Chapter 71: Lightning and Frost

As the group rode beneath the vast northern sky, Dorian pulled his cloak tighter, the crisp air carrying the scent of pine and frost. Regis trotted steadily beneath him, his feathered hooves barely making a sound against the dirt road.

Dorian glanced at Selyse. "So… when exactly are we getting to the Northern Duchy? I need a timeframe so I can mentally prepare myself for whatever frozen wasteland awaits."

Selyse chuckled, flicking her reins. "If we want to get there quickly, we take the road to Moncloud City. It's one of the bigger cities before Sigvard, run by Count Mooncloude."

Dorian raised a brow. "Mooncloude? I swear, northern nobles really like their dramatic names."

Tache laughed. "Right? I once met a knight named Valtros Blackfrost. The man had a name that screamed 'mysterious warrior,' but he tripped over his own damn cape when we sparred."

Selyse ignored their banter, keeping her eyes forward. "Once we reach Moncloud, it'll be a straight path to the Grand Duchy of Sigvard."

Dorian tapped his chin. "So if we go that way, we only have one more major transit before Sigvard?"

Tache shook his head. "Not exactly. There's another route—one that goes through two smaller baron cities."

"And why aren't we taking that?"

Selyse rolled her eyes. "Because it's longer, slower, and a complete waste of time."

Tache sighed dramatically. "But safer. Less wild beasts, fewer unpredictable dangers."

Dorian let out a mock gasp. "Are you actually suggesting we take the safer route, Tache? I thought you were all about the thrill of battle."

Tache grinned. "Oh, I am. But I also enjoy not freezing my ass off while getting mauled by a frost troll."

Dorian turned to Selyse. "So, we're definitely going to Moncloud then?"

She nodded. "It's the best option. But Tache is right about one thing—the further north we go, the more beasts we'll encounter. So don't let your guard down, bard."

Dorian sighed, leaning back slightly in his saddle. "Great. Cold, monsters, and dramatic noble names. The north really has it all."

Tache patted his shoulder. "Welcome to the real journey, bard."

As they continued toward Moncloud, the sky above them darkened slightly, the wind carrying an eerie silence. It was the quiet before something stirred.

Night loomed over the northern road, a pale moon casting silver streaks across the dense forest. The group pressed on, their horses moving at a steady pace, but Dorian was noticeably tense.

He gripped Regis's reins tighter, his head on a swivel. Every gust of wind, every rustling leaf, every distant howl sent a shudder down his spine.

Tache smirked, noticing Dorian's unease. "Steel your nerves, bard. This is what it truly feels like to travel north."

Dorian groaned, shifting in his saddle. "Why did my statue point north? I'm starting to regret my rash decision to follow the damn thing."

Tache laughed, clapping him on the back. "Relax, you've got magic, and you've got us. We've taken this route hundreds of times. It's nothing we can't handle."

Dorian stared at him in disbelief. "Did you really just say that? Have you never heard a tale before? You just jinxed us!"

As if fate itself mocked him, the forest grew eerily silent—the wind stilled, and the usual chirping of insects vanished.

Then, dozens of glowing white eyes emerged from the tree line.

Low growls rumbled through the air. The pack of massive white wolves slinked into view, their fur like fresh snow, their breath visible in the cold night air.

Ralnor, ever the vigilant one, shouted first. "AMBUSH!"

In an instant, Selyse, Tache, and Ralnor reacted on instinct. Their horses shifted as they formed a tight defensive circle around Dorian.

Dorian took a breath, steadying himself. His magic thrummed at his fingertips as he reached for his flute. "Alright, I've had an idea—let's try this."

He lifted the flute to his lips and played.

The melody crackled through the air—not just sound, but power. Ripples of blue-white electricity coursed outward, snaking through the cold air like living veins of lightning. The energy latched onto Tache's dual blades, Selyse's lance, and Ralnor's massive shield.

The metal hummed with newfound power, crackling with electric arcs.

Dorian grinned. "There. I just imbued your weapons—now go wild!"

The first wolf lunged.

Ralnor intercepted instantly, raising his towering shield. The impact shook the earth, but the moment the wolf touched Ralnor's shield, the electric charge discharged violently—a bright blue shockwave sent the beast sprawling backward, twitching as sparks danced across its fur.

Tache twisted to the side, both blades ignited with lightning, then slashed downward in a perfect arc. The wolf's flesh split open, the electricity cooking the wound as the beast howled in agony.

Selyse charged forward. Her lance, now crackling with power, struck the ground first—the sheer force sent bolts of lightning shooting outward like a web of deadly tendrils.

The wolves recoiled. Some managed to dodge, but others got caught in the current, their bodies convulsing violently before falling limp.

A lone wolf, seemingly the alpha, lunged straight for Dorian.

Dorian barely had time to react—he yanked Regis's reins, pulling his horse to the side. The wolf's fangs snapped shut just inches from his leg.

Tache moved like a storm.

He flipped off his horse, landing directly between Dorian and the attacking wolf, his blades meeting the beast's throat in a brutal cross-slash.

The wolf staggered but didn't fall.

Tache narrowed his eyes. "Persistent bastard."

Then Ralnor slammed his shield into its side like a battering ram, sending the alpha sprawling across the dirt. The beast didn't rise again.

The remaining wolves hesitated, their ears flattening, their predatory instincts warring with their newfound fear.

Then, they turned tail and fled back into the forest.

Tache exhaled. "And that, bard, is why you trust us."

Dorian, still catching his breath, was about to respond when—

A deep, guttural roar shattered the night.

The ground shook beneath them.

From the shadows of the trees, something massive emerged.

A frost troll.

Standing at nearly twelve feet tall, its skin was a mixture of blue and ice, its breath forming clouds of mist in the frigid air. Its yellow eyes burned with mindless hunger.

Tache's expression twisted. "Fuck."

Selyse yanked her reins hard. "RUN!"

Without hesitation, they mounted up and took off, their horses kicking up frost-covered dirt as the troll let out a deafening roar, barreling after them like an avalanche of flesh and rage.