The First Heavy Snowfall Blanketed Emberhold
The first heavy snowfall blanketed Emberhold, turning dirt roads into icy pathways and making work slower, harder. The settlement had grown rapidly in the last few months, but now winter would test whether it could endure. The air was sharp with cold, and each breath came out in wisps of white as workers trudged through the thickening snow, their tasks now twice as difficult. The sound of hammers striking wood was muffled, distant under the weight of the season. For the first time since Emberhold's expansion began, progress was slowing, and the strain was beginning to show.
The First Signs of Hardship
Owen stood near the unfinished housing district, shaking his head as workers struggled to move timber through the frost. Some used crude sleds to drag supplies, while others hacked away at frozen wood, their axes slowed by the ice. "We need more hands," he muttered as Alexander approached, his breath fogging the air. "The cold's slowing everything down. If we don't finish these buildings soon, we'll have people sleeping in storage sheds." The housing shortage had been manageable in the fall, but now, with temperatures dropping rapidly, even a single night without proper shelter could mean illness—or worse.
Alexander nodded. "Pull men from other projects. Construction takes priority until the housing issue is resolved." The walls, the forges, the supply networks—everything else would have to wait. If the people didn't have shelter, the settlement's strength wouldn't matter. Owen exhaled, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "That'll help, but we're also burning through firewood faster than expected. We've had to double collection efforts just to keep up." He gestured toward the massive woodpiles near the center of Emberhold. What had once seemed like an overabundance of firewood was now rapidly dwindling.
Silas, standing nearby, added, "Food is holding for now, but if we get a longer winter than usual, we'll be cutting it close. Trade shipments are still coming in, but fewer merchants are traveling in this weather." He tossed a piece of parchment onto the table in the war tent, a list of supply shipments marked with red ink. "We've already had two merchants turn back because of the cold."
Alexander wasn't surprised. This was the cost of growth—more people meant more resources were needed to sustain them. But the biggest test was yet to come. Winter had just begun, and already, they were feeling its weight. If supplies ran too low, if food shipments stopped entirely, then survival would become just as much of a battle as any war.
A Winter Trade Gamble
Roland Varis, the ambitious merchant who had proposed the winter trade network, sat across from Alexander and Silas, going over plans. His fingers tapped the surface of the wooden table, his excitement barely contained despite the cold. "If we set up small trade hubs in the surrounding villages, we could make Emberhold the center of winter commerce," Roland explained. "Most noble-controlled routes are freezing over. If we can keep ours open, we'll draw in more merchants than ever before."
Silas was skeptical. "That's assuming Vale doesn't move against us. The moment he sees his profits drop, he'll react."
Roland grinned, adjusting his heavy coat. "He might try. But if we establish control over trade before he acts, then attacking us means attacking the economy. That's dangerous, even for a noble." His confidence was admirable, but Alexander knew better than to underestimate Vale's reach.
Alexander listened carefully, considering the risk. This was more than just a business move. If Emberhold became a central trade hub during the winter, it would gain more than just wealth—it would gain influence, control over the flow of goods. And if Vale wanted to stop them, he would have to reveal his intentions far earlier than he planned.
"Start small," Alexander finally said. "Use trusted merchants, keep routes guarded, and watch for Vale's spies. If we see an opportunity to expand, we take it. But no reckless moves."
Roland nodded, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You won't regret this."
Silas remained cautious, but there was no denying the opportunity. If they played this right, Emberhold wouldn't just survive the winter—it would emerge stronger than before.
The Tenebrium Mystery Deepens
Gareth had another report on the black metal. "We've noticed something new," he said, placing a chunk of Tenebrium on the table. The metal was smooth, dark, with an unnatural sheen under the candlelight. "Weapons made from it… don't dull as quickly as normal steel. Even after repeated combat, the edge stays sharp."
Elias, who had been testing one of the Tenebrium swords, smirked, running his thumb along the flat of the blade. "That's an advantage we could use."
"But the effects on the environment are getting worse," Gareth continued, his expression darkening. "The forge area? It's completely dead now. No plant life, no insects, nothing. The land itself feels… drained."
Silas frowned, crossing his arms. "That doesn't sound natural."
"It's not," Gareth said firmly. "And we still don't know its long-term effects on people handling it."
Alexander leaned back, his mind working through the implications. The metal was powerful, far superior to anything they had worked with before—but at what cost? Was it worth using if it meant destroying the land around them? And what if the effects weren't limited to the forge?
"Keep studying it," he finally said. "We'll keep using it for now, but if we see any changes in the people working with it, we stop."
Gareth nodded, though his concern remained evident. The black metal had given Emberhold an edge, but every advantage came with a price. The question was whether they were willing to pay it.
An Ominous Message
As Emberhold adjusted to the winter, a captured spy was brought before Alexander. The man was frozen, barely alive from exposure, his lips cracked and hands shaking as he was dragged into the war tent. His once-proud bearing had been broken by the cold, and he slumped near the fire, seeking warmth as his breath came in ragged gasps.
Silas crouched beside him, holding out a cup of heated broth. "Speak," he said, voice calm but firm. "Tell us why you're here."
The spy hesitated, his frostbitten fingers clutching the cup weakly. Then, with a shuddering breath, he muttered, "Vale… is watching. He waits for spring. When the snows melt, so does your peace."
Silence filled the tent.
Alexander's expression remained unreadable. He had suspected Vale would strike once winter had passed, but hearing it confirmed only solidified what he already knew. The Viscount was patient, biding his time, preparing for the moment when the roads cleared, and war could begin anew.
Good.
That meant Emberhold had time to prepare.
He rose from his chair, glancing at Silas and Elias. "Make sure our forces are ready. We have until spring. We use every day wisely."
Elias grinned. "So we're not waiting for him to come to us?"
Alexander's gaze was cold, determined. "No. When spring comes, we move first."
The fire crackled, the only sound in the room as the weight of the words settled. Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing Emberhold in white. The war had not ended. It had only paused. And when the thaw came, so would the storm.