The Legends of Altera Vita

The group moved silently through the Passes, each step calculated, each movement precise. Belisarius found his mind racing, processing everything they'd witnessed. The Iceforged convoy had confirmed some of his suspicions while raising entirely new questions.

He'd studied the northern tribes before, back when such knowledge was merely academic. The Iceforged were known for their fierce independence, their territorial disputes with each other as common as their raids on southern lands. Yet what they'd just witnessed spoke of coordination, of unity, of purpose.

Kira caught his thoughtful expression. "You're analyzing," she whispered as they navigated a particularly treacherous section of the pass.

"The mining equipment," he responded quietly. "It's not just about expanding territory. They're building infrastructure before moving their main force. That suggests..."

"A longer campaign," she finished his thought. "Not a raid. Not a seasonal war."

"They're preparing to stay," he concluded.

The implications turned over in his mind as they moved. His own journey north had been driven by a quest, by the cryptic message that had led him to seek out Gordon Reeber, and then the Crimson Blades. But now, watching the Iceforged preparations, he wondered if he'd stumbled into something far larger than a mercenary contract.

The snow crunched softly under their feet as they traversed a narrow ledge. Ahead, Zazz and Gearwind were taking readings with their modified equipment, measuring distances and marking potential observation points. Belisarius watched their methodical work.

His own companions had spread out among the unit, each adapting to their assigned roles with varying degrees of success. Targeld's massive frame somehow managed to move with surprising stealth, while Kael seemed to have found a kindred spirit in Thenn, idly chatting as they walked.

A subtle signal from Kira brought them to another halt. This time, not for danger, but for observation. Below them stretched a valley, partially obscured by falling snow. But even through the white haze, they could see the signs of recent activity—packed snow from multiple crossings, abandoned campfire sites, marks of sled runners in the deeper drifts.

"They're not hiding their movements," Belisarius noted.

"They don't need to," Kira replied. "Not here. This is their territory. Or at least, they believe it is now."

He studied the valley below, his eyes sweeping over everything. According to Kael, the scholar of the group, the campfire sites were arranged in a pattern he recognized from his studies—not random stopping points, but deliberate positions that spoke of military discipline. The Iceforged weren't just moving supplies; they were establishing patrol routes, creating a network of safe points for future movements.

Belisarius' thoughts drifted to the maps he'd seen in Commander Alessandra's tent. The Northern Passes had always been considered a buffer zone—too harsh for permanent settlement, too vast to properly control. But the Iceforged weren't trying to control the Passes in the traditional sense. They were transforming them into a supply line, a highway for their forces.

"What are you thinking?" Kira asked, noticing his intense focus on the valley.

"About how we've all underestimated them," he replied. "We think of the Iceforged as raiders, as tribal warriors. But this..." he gestured to the valley, "this is sophisticated military strategy. This is the work of a race who understands not just war, but conquest."

The word hung in the air between them. Conquest. The systematic acquisition and holding of territory.

A light snow had begun to fall again, adding another layer of white to the already blanketed landscape. Belisarius watched the flakes drift down, each one a tiny mirror reflecting the grey sky above. Somewhere in the distance, a snow hawk cried—a real one this time, its voice carrying naturally across the vastness of the Passes.

-----

The shortened winter day was already fading when Kira signaled for the unit to make camp. They'd covered significant ground, moving deeper into the Passes than they had expected in the first day, and the intelligence gathered needed to be properly documented before continuing.

The camp, if it could be called that, was little more than a series of sheltered positions in a defensible alcove. No fires would be lit this deep in Iceforged territory. Instead, the Viperkin relied on specialized gear designed for cold weather survival—insulated sleeping rolls, heated stones wrapped in thick furs, and carefully rationed portions of dense, high-energy food that required no preparation.

As the unit settled into their positions, Belisarius found himself next to Kira as she reviewed their mapped progress.

"Seven days," she said quietly, marking their current position. "That's all we have to push forward, gather what we can, and make it back to Arendale." Her finger traced their planned route. "We're already deeper than expected, thanks to the lack of resistance."

"They're not watching their own territory," Belisarius observed. "They're focused on something else."

"Exactly." Kira's voice was grim. "Their attention is occupied. Whatever they're building, it's consuming all their resources."

Around them, the rest of the unit had fallen into their nighttime routine. Pairs of scouts took up watch positions while others prepared for rest. The Viperkin veterans moved with practiced efficiency, but Belisarius noticed how they'd integrated his companions into their rotation.

Zazz was working with Gearwind, the two of them hunched over their equipment, comparing notes in whispers. Their technical expertise had proven valuable already, spotting details in the Iceforged equipment that others might have missed.

Targeld had been paired with Rockfist for the first watch, their massive frames providing surprisingly effective cover in the growing darkness. They'd developed an unspoken understanding throughout the day, communicating through subtle gestures and nods.

Daeva and Shadow had disappeared into the darkness, taking up hidden positions that covered the group's most vulnerable approaches. Their paranoia, as some might call it, was exactly what was needed in these hostile territories.

Corporal Horse and Stillwater were methodically checking the equipment, with Stillwater doing the checking and Corporal Horse doing the talking. Their military precision complemented each other perfectly.

Kael worked with Thenn, updating their maps with the day's observations. The amount of detail they'd gathered was impressive—not just geographical features, but signs of Iceforged activity, patrol patterns, and potential choke points.

And Ikit... Belisarius couldn't quite spot him, but occasional soft sounds from above suggested the rat was nearby.

"One week isn't much," Belisarius mused, accepting a portion of the night's rations—dried meat, hard cheese, and what the Viperkin called "ice bread," a dense, nutrient-rich loaf that never seemed to freeze completely.

"It's all we can risk," Kira replied. "Any longer and we chance discovery. Besides," she added, her voice dropping even lower, "Commander Alessandra needs this intelligence quickly. Arendale can't plan their response without knowing what they're responding to."

Belisarius nodded, understanding the urgency. They'd already seen enough to confirm their worst fears—the Iceforged weren't just gathering for war, they were preparing for a sustained campaign. The mining equipment, the supply lines, the coordinated movements... it all pointed to something bigger than anyone had anticipated.

As night settled fully over the Passes, the cold deepened. The temperature difference between day and night was stark, but the Viperkin were prepared. Their gear was designed for exactly these conditions, and their rotation of watches ensured no one stayed still long enough for the cold to become dangerous.

Belisarius settled into his sleeping position, his mind still processing everything they'd seen. Their mission was clear—seven days to push as deep as they safely could, gather every piece of intelligence possible, and make it back to Arendale. But something told him that what they'd discover in the coming days would change everything they thought they knew about the threat from the north.

The sound of wind through the Passes created an eerie whistle, a constant reminder of their precarious position in this hostile territory. Somewhere nearby, the Iceforged were building something.

In a couple days, they would have to turn back, whether they had all the answers or not. But for now, they rested, wrapped in cold and darkness, waiting for another day of discovery in the frozen wastes.

Dawn crept over the frozen landscape, bathing the northern wastes in a pale, ethereal light that offered more illumination than warmth. Belisarius watched his companions as they prepared for another day in the Wastelands, each member's equipment telling its own story.

Daeva's armor was a masterwork of draconic craftsmanship - plate fashioned from his own shed scales, a deep crimson that seemed to embody fire itself. Veins of what appeared to be magma ran through the plates, creating patterns of frozen lightning across the surface. Though the armor included an ornately worked dagger sheath at his hip, Belisarius noted how Daeva kept the sheath itself perpetually in hand, its dark blade rarely leaving the scabbard. The way the dragon-born moved in the armor suggested it was as light as leather to him, despite its imposing appearance.

Kael's golden blonde hair fluttered as he adorned his equipment. The armor was a masterpiece of function and elegance - layers of enchanted silk and supple leather dyed a forest green so deep it almost appeared black in shadow, with silver accents that caught the morning light like dewdrops. Strategic points were reinforced with whisper-thin plates of elven steel, providing protection while maintaining his fluid movement. His warm brown boots and gloves were clearly well-worn but impeccably maintained, and his silver rapier hung at his hip in a tooled leather scabbard, its elegant hilt marking it as a weapon of both beauty and deadly purpose.

In stark contrast to what one would think, Targeld had eschewed traditional plate armor in favor of a white over shirt, similar to a kimono. A massive white wolf pelt covered him from broad shoulders to boots. The thick fur, probably from one of the massive snow hounds that roamed the northern wastes, provided both warmth and remarkable camouflage in the snowy terrain. The pelt's pristine white matched his hair perfectly, making his meticulously maintained black beard stand out like a slash of ink on parchment. His weapons rested beside him - a massive battle axe with a terrifying edge, and a smaller, equally well-crafted hand axe that looked as though it could split stone.

Zazz's appearance was hard to describe, his form - if it could be called that - was a shell of metallic glass crafted specifically for its Novaki operator. The construct resembled a small child in size but moved with an unsettling precision that immediately betrayed its artificial nature. Its surface caught the morning light in strange ways, reflecting light to those who looked at him. Rather than carrying conventional weapons, Zazz seemed perpetually surrounded by an array of mysterious devices and tools, most of which were carefully stored in packs attached to Corporal Horse.

The massive destrier himself stood patiently as the morning preparations continued, his chestnut coat gleaming from what had clearly been a thorough grooming by Zazz. The warhorse carried their supplies in specially designed saddlebags that distributed weight evenly across his powerful frame, though he seemed more interested in the sparse vegetation he could find littering the bushes around camp.

Ikit remained elusive, though occasionally Belisarius caught glimpses of movement. An Artifact as Targeld had identified it, a cloak of such powerful enchantment that it seemed to bend light and shadow around its wearer. The ratman's actual equipment remained a mystery, which was likely exactly how he preferred it.

Finally, Belisarius checked his own equipment. A sleek short sword of black steel hung at his side, the blade seemed to devour light rather than reflect it, its surface as dark as a starless night. The weapon's perfect balance made it feel like an extension of his arm, equally suited for lightning-fast strikes or precise defensive maneuvers. His left hand bore a wicked gauntlet of articulated black metal, each finger tipped with claws sharp enough to tear through flesh. The combination of sword and claw gave him versatility in close combat, allowing him to attack and defend from multiple angles simultaneously.

His light armor was unlike anything seen in the northern territories—plates of metal so black they seemed to create depths rather than surfaces, each edge trimmed with gold that caught the pale morning light. The craftsmanship was extraordinary—every joint and seam was engineered for silent, fluid movement, allowing him to strike with a serpent's speed or move as quietly as a shadow when needed. The armor hugged his form like a second skin, the plates overlapping in complex patterns that protected vital areas while maintaining complete freedom of movement. Despite its light weight, the metal seemed incredibly resilient.

With their equipment checks complete and camp dismantled, the scout party prepared to resume their pursuit of the convoy. The pale morning light filtered through the sparse canopy of snow-laden branches, creating shifting patterns on the white ground below.

As the group advanced, time seemed to slow as Belisarius's mind wandered to the fragments of memory and mystery that haunted him. His own identity was a mystery, he could glimpse fragments, but they refused to form a complete picture. His combat skills, tactical knowledge, understanding of the world around him, all these remained intact, yet his personal history was a void. Who he was, where he came from, why he was here—remained unanswered, questions in his mind.

Then there was Zazz. Daeva had told him that there was something off about the Novaki, something in the way he kept his distance from the rest of them, but still kept their best interests in mind. And that pin—the one he'd been given before meeting Commander Alessandra, must have had deep implications, and yet he knew nothing about it. So why did Zazz?

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the frozen landscape, painting the world in shades of pale blue and silver. Here in the northern reaches, even the brightest part of day held little warmth. The sun hung low on the horizon, as if reluctant to climb too high above the ice-crowned mountains that dominated the distance. Snow-laden pines creaked under their frozen burden, and the wind carried the sharp, clean scent of ice and stone. The very air seemed to crystallize with each breath, and yet it was surprisingly peaceful.

But something was wrong. Belisarius caught it first—something off in the ambient sounds of the wilderness. Small discrepancies that raised the hairs on the back of his neck: the unnatural silence of birds, branches moving against the wind's direction, the soft crunch of snow under unseen feet. Before he could signal the others, Daeva materialized beside him, his crimson armor catching the dawn light as he moved.

"Be quiet, boss," Daeva whispered, barely audible. "There's something out there." His scaled hand tightened on his dagger sheath, eyes scanning the treeline with predatory focus.

By then the entire scout party was alert, weapons appeared in hands without a sound— Kael's rapier sliding free with a whisper of steel, Targeld's massive axe at the ready. The sounds grew more distinct now, multiple sets of heavy paws crushing snow, low growls barely audible over the wind, the snap of branches under powerful bodies. They were being surrounded.

The group formed up with practiced precision—a defensive circle with Zazz, Whisper, Shadow, Stillwater, Corporal Horse, protected in the center. The warriors formed a defensive ring around them—Kira taking point with her twin short swords already drawn, Belisarius and Daeva flanking her, while Targeld and Rockfist's massive frames anchored the rear. Kael and Thenn took opposite sides, their lighter weapons ready for quick strikes, as Gearwind readied his crossbow for support.

The attack came from all sides at once. Snow hounds, massive beasts bred by the barbarian tribes for warfare and scouting burst from the underbrush. Their white fur made them nearly invisible against the snow, their bulk belying their incredible speed. Each beast was easily the size of a small horse, with jaws that could crush armor and claws designed for tearing through ice.

Kira moved with the precision of a veteran commander, her twin blades creating a deadly web of steel that caught the first two hounds in mid-lunge. "Hold formation!" Her command cut through the chaos with authority born of countless battles, ordering the Viperkin not paired with Altera Vita to stand their ground. The hounds that had thought to find easy prey in her instead found swift ends, her blades opening their throats in smooth, practiced motions that spoke of years of combat experience.

Belisarius worked with Daeva in lethal tandem, their different fighting styles complementing each other perfectly. What Belisarius had initially mistaken for a simple dagger in Daeva's hands revealed itself as an engineering marvel, a telescoping spear that could transform from the length of a dagger to a full halberd through an intricate system of extending segments. Daeva wielded this versatile weapon with devastating effect, the spear's reach allowing him to strike at vital points while maintaining distance. Daeva's spear found vulnerable points with assassin's precision while Belisarius's black blade and clawed gauntlet created a zone of death around him, ensuring no hounds could flank him.

The rear of their formation became a killing field under the combined might of Targeld and Rockfist. Targeld's axes sang through the air, their heavy heads describing brutal arcs that ended in sprays of crimson against the white snow. Beside him, Rockfist's maul crushed anything that came within range, the powerful weapon reducing tough bone and muscle to pulp. Together, they formed an impenetrable barrier of raw strength.

Kael and Thenn operated like lightning strikes, their light weapons allowing them to dart between allies and reinforce any point that showed signs of weakness. Kael's rapier found vulnerable points with surgical precision—eyes, throats, and other vital areas that the hounds' thick fur couldn't protect. Thenn's curved blade complemented this approach, opening long, debilitating wounds that quickly sapped the beasts' strength and mobility.

From somewhere in the chaos, hounds began dropping with crossbow bolts protruding from their skulls—Gearwind's work, though the small man remained unseen, hidden within the defensive circle. The precision of his shots was remarkable, each one finding a vital point despite the frenzied combat. 

And there, at the edges of the combat, Belisarius caught glimpses of Ikit's handiwork. A dead hound lying some distance from the clash, its throat opened with surgical precision. The ratman's stealth and blade work were as effective as ever, proving that even those beasts that thought themselves safe away from the fight weren't beyond his reach.

Daeva moved like an incarnate of death, his dagger-spear extending and retracting with hypnotic precision. A snow hound lunged at his throat only to find the weapon piercing its own, the telescoping blade extending through flesh and bone in a spray of blood, coating the terrain in red. The beast's momentum carried its dying body past him, but Daeva was already moving. Two more hounds converged on him, thinking to overwhelm him with numbers. Instead, they found themselves engaged in a lethal dance as Daeva's weapon shifted between forms, now a spear keeping one at bay, now a dagger slipping between ribs, his scaled armor flashing in the morning light as he wove between their attacks with serpentine grace.

Targeld's battle cry shook snow from nearby branches, a roar that spoke of his northern heritage. A massive hound leaped for his throat, thinking to find easy prey in the screaming berserker. Instead, it met his great axe in mid-flight, the weapon's arc perfectly timed to catch the beast at the apex of its jump. The blade bit deep, the raw power behind the swing nearly splitting the creature in two. Without pause, Targeld used the momentum of his first strike to carry himself through into a reverse swing with his hand axe, the smaller weapon finding its mark in another hound's skull with a sickening crunch. Blood stained his white furs crimson as he roared a challenge to any other hound that dared matchup against him.

Kael moved with the grace of an elf, his fighting style a stark contrast to the brutal efficiency around him, and to his usually timid nature. His rapier caught the suns light like captured lightning, each movement precise and deliberate. A hound's snapping jaws were met with a perfectly timed parry that left the beast's throat exposed for a killing thrust. Another creature tried to circle behind him, only to lose an eye to a lightning-fast riposte. The elven steel seemed to sing as it found gaps in thick fur and muscle, each strike targeting vulnerabilities with surgical accuracy. Every movement flowed into the next, turning combat into a deadly dance.

Belisarius didn't exactly know what he was doing, his mind felt distant, foggy, yet his body moved with lethal memory. His black blade carved arcs through the air, each swing ending in a spray of blood or a death yelp. A hound lunged for his sword arm only to have its face torn open by his clawed gauntlet. Another tried to knock him down from behind but found only empty air as he pivoted, his obsidian blade opening its flank from shoulder to hip. His armor deflected raking claws with musical rings of steel on steel, each failed attack against him met with lethal counterstrikes.

Zazz, though positioned in the protective center, contributed to the defense by deploying small devices that emitted high-pitched sounds. Confused beasts stumbled into killing blows they might have otherwise avoided. When one particularly large hound broke through the perimeter, Corporal Horse proved he was far more than a simple pack animal. His war-trained hooves lashed out with devastating force, crushing the beast's skull with a single powerful strike.

The battle reached its crescendo as the largest hound—clearly the pack alpha, charged directly at Kira and Belisarius. The beast was a monstrosity, its shoulders reaching chest height on a man, with scars across its muzzle speaking to countless victories. 

Its massive form crashed through the combat like an avalanche, heading straight for Kira. She had just deflected a vicious attack from another hound, the force of the blow sending numbing vibrations up her arms. In that critical moment of vulnerability, the alpha saw its opportunity.

Belisarius moved without thinking, pure instinct driving him between Kira and certain death. The alpha's jaws, capable of crushing plate armor, snapped shut on empty air as Belisarius ducked beneath its attack into a slide. His black blade drove upward with mechanical precision, finding the soft flesh beneath the jaw and punching through into the brain. Simultaneously, his clawed gauntlet ripped through fur and muscle to rend the creature's heart.

The alpha's momentum carried it forward three more steps before it realized it was dead, then it crashed to the snow with an earth shaking impact. The remaining hounds, seeing their leader fallen, lost all coordination. The pack's survivors scattered into the wilderness, leaving behind a battlefield transformed from serene snow into crimson chaos.

The sudden silence seemed deafening after such violence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the warriors and the soft drip of blood on snow. The late afternoon sun cast down on them. Each member of the party knew that while they had won this fight, the real threat still lay ahead. Snow hounds were never far from their masters, and as Belisarius gazed into the treeline, an Iceforged was gazing back.