Gray stone walls reaching as high as the naked eye could see; spires, with long wooden spikes from which there hung blood-red banners, were the only aberrant factors in the otherwise gray and white landscape. That, and the large stone doors, made up the gate to the city of Frostborg.

Not sure I like the look of this one, Ash mumbled.

Zennereth sighed, Im not sure this town is meant to be liked by outsiders. He pointed to one of the many spike-covered spires. A corpse was dangling from a rope fastened around one of the many spikes.

Seems youre right.

Ash glanced at Hans, who was driving the oxen onward. He didnt look particularly shaken by the harsh nature of the surroundings.

A difference in culture, I suppose, the elf thought to himself.

He couldnt help but respect the young Northerners stoic mindset. The necromancer had always thought that Hans reminded him a bit of the people of Kanburrougha little too soft at times.

Seems Ive been too quick to judge, again.

Hans howre things looking? Are they opening their gates for us? Zennereth asked, when they were almost at the gates.

Yup, the young man replied. Or well, kind of. Theyre sending someone out.

And just as the Nordmaend said, the gates opened and a few guards came running out, carrying long axes and shields. Just when Ash thought the last man had passed through the gates, someone else slowly came following; a person, clad in a scarlet cloak.

Ash leaned so he could whisper to Hans, Is that the countess? He was pointing toward the figure whod left Frostborg last.

No, I dont think so, came a whispering reply. Thats a shaman, if Im not mistaken. Since Nefar

worships Nefaria, this shaman should be a woman.

The supposed shaman was wearing a long, red cloak, with the hood drawn over their face. If not for Hans, Ash would probably not have guessed it was a woman; at least not from where he was sitting.

The Great Shaman, Voelv, approaches. Kneel, or we shall spill your blood upon this sacred soil, the guardsmen shouted in unison, forming two lines to flank the shaman as she approached the strangers.

Zennereth looked like he was about to say something spiteful to the men who were blatantly disrespecting his master, but he didnt as he had to follow Ash, who had promptly jumped out of the carriage.

Ah, a priest! he shouted and started running towards the shaman they had called Voelv. The guardsmen formed a wall in front of their spiritual idol, not masking their displeasure of his actions in trying to get closer to her. Or shamanwhateversame thing.

The young elf laid a hand on the nearest guards shoulder, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear, I hope you dont mind me not bending the knee. Theyre a little sore.

He was firmly struck in the head with the back end of one of the neighboring guards axes, effectively brought to his knees. The attack was quick and hard; completely unexpected to the young elf who was used to people fearing the mere presence of his person. However, it wasnt that hed been attacked which surprised him; the strength of the blow had also taken him aback. Since meeting Evitagen, Ash had never known another guard that was able to knock him down.

Next thing the young elf knew, his head was being pressed down into the snow before the shaman.

Frost Bolt! came Zennereths cold voice, followed by a thud when it buried itself in the snow somewhere behind Ashprobably very close to the guardsmans feet. Youre being disrespectful to your guest You will show him respect, or I will eradicate you, like the vermin you are.

Let him go.

The shaman finally spoke, and was promptly obeyed by her subordinates.

Ash spat out a bit of blood. He had bit his tongue quite badly when the guard hit him. He got to his feet and looked at the cloaked woman. He was certain she was a woman now, her voice gave it away.

Nice to meet you, too, the young elf said. He could only barely see the woman over the shoulders of the guards, who had formed a neat line-formation in front of her. Now, I know its rude to demand things right awayhe elbowed the guard behind himbut Id love for you to take me to the Countess, on whose invitation I am here.

Ah, so youre the settler she was talking about, replied the shaman. Well, I see no problem letting you in, but can you prove that you are who you say you are? Currently, your tall friend over there seems to fit the bill; not you.

Bitch,

The necromancer clicked his tongue, cracked his knuckles and motioned for Zennereth to come to him.

Uh, Zennereth, my friend. Spar with me real quick.

Must I?

Yes, Ash said, and punched the lich in the gut, only to feel his fingers breaking against the lichs bony structure.

The dark-robed man was quick to retaliate.

Glacial Shroud, he whispered and made freezing cold vapor erupt from the palm of his hand. The spell made breathing feel like regurgitating concrete from the depths of a decrepit old mans lungs for everyone around him.

Ash drew his trusty knife and slashed at his opponent, who hadnt had the chance to draw his sword yet. Zennereth had to take multiple steps back, to avoid the deadly onslaught.

A few more slashes and stabs were sent in the direction of the lich, while icy spells were being thrown at the elf in return.

There wasnt a clear victor in sight; the two of them were in a deadlock.

Well, I might as well try it, Ash thought to himself.

He jumped away from his undead opponent, and closed his eyes. He envisioned the way he had obliterated the ice troll; trying to recreate the scenario in his mind.

Then he opened his eyes to the sight of his servant charging toward him. Hed drawn his sword, ready to cleave his master in half. Ash pointed his index finger at Zennereth, and directed every bad thoughtevery hateful ideaat the lich. Blamed Zennereth for all of it.

Negative Surge, he whispered in his mind, and saw the very same spell explode from his fingertip and engulf the lich. However, the dark ray wasnt as the young elf had seen it in his head.

It was a violent, twisting torrentten times the size of what the necromancer had hoped for. Another unusual element was the fact that the spell didnt stop on its own. Initially, that worried himhe wasnt trying to kill his servantbut then he thought to himself, If I conjured the spell, I should be able to stop it, right?

So, he closed his eyes, and reversed the process of conjuration. He gagged the stream of hatred, flowing from his mind through his body, and felt the spell end. A strange sensation of peace, previously unbeknownst to the elf, suddenly coursed through his veins. It was a sense of release he hadnt felt before. He didnt entirely dislike itthis feeling of letting go. It was like a high.

But, as all highs do, it ended; and left the elf towering above his servant on the ground, feeling emptier than ever.

II suppose that proves it, rright? Ash asked, through wheezing breaths.

The cloaked woman nodded.

Follow me, she said, uncaringly, and walked towards the walled city again. Shortly after, her guards followed suit.

No-one seemed particularly shaken by the spell, which for Ash had been an unfathomable display of powerby his standards. It was almost as if they deemed it trivial by their own standards.

Hans, load Zennereth on the cart and park it somewhere inside. Ill go after this shaman, he said, sneering the word shaman.

After making sure that the Northerner was taking good care of the lich, the young elf hurried after the procession of guards.

What fucking right does she have to treat me like this? Im a guest, not a prisoner, for fucks sake! Treat me like one.

With angry thoughts circling his mind, like really pissed-off vultures, he reached Frostborgs stone gates. They reminded him of the gates of Elcrada, not only because of their sizethey were absolutely massive, thoughbut because of the almost identical engravings on the gates themselves. Engravings recounting encounters with horrible creatures of all shapes and sizes. There was, however, one element to them that set them completely apart from those of the adventurers town.

The stories in Elcrada told of heroic bands of adventurers slaying monsters with the strength in numbers and bonds of powerful friendships. The stories told by these massive stone tablets showed epic battles between giant monsters and men, but there were no parties involved. These gates clearly showed Ash that this city was one filled with strong warriors, powerful in their own right. Powerful enough to never have to rely on others.

The young elf let his pale hands slide over the engravings. He could feel the heart put into each of the scenes; the soul of the battle was flowing into himfilled him with the emotions of people who had fought for their lives, and lived to tell the tale.

I wonder whos making these

With one final glance on the gates, Ash entered the city of Frostborg.

It was like nothing hed ever seen before. The tall outer walls had completely concealed it, but Frostborg was a massive city, filled with buildings as tall as the tallest in Roughensburg. They were mostly made of yellow clay bricks with black shale tiles for roofs. The part which was most alien to Ash, however, were the tower-like structures with bridges connecting them and other buildings around town. People appeared to be using the bridges for transport by foot, while the lower level of the city seemed to be reserved for carriages and the like.

Ash could see the shaman and her guards walk towards the nearest tower, so he decided to follow suit. He wasnt fond of heights, but he welcomed any chance to see more of the town.

After a fair bit of running, he finally reached the shamans side. She motioned for the guards following her to stop doing so, and then stepped onto a lift attached to the tower.

Come on, she said, and offered the young elf her hand.

Ash refused the helping hand before stepping onto the lift, himself. Seconds later, the lift started moving upwards, toward the nearest, crowded bridge.

As they were being carried to the skies, the young elf finally got a good, hard look at the woman next to him. Her cloak covered her from head to toe, except for her hands, which were white with a slight tan, suggesting that she wasnt originally from The North.

So, how long have you been living here? the young elf asked, trying his best to strike up a conversation.

She turned her head slightly.

Save your words for the Countess.

Ash would be lying if he said hed expected anything else. Even though the young elf didnt exactly know her, he could tell she wasnt exactly the talkative type.

Silence reigned supreme for the remainder of the ascendance, only broken by gasps of awe from Ash, at the view from the top. The shaman, most likely didnt say much because she didnt like Ash that much, Ash, however, remained awestruck by the amazing view of Frostborg. The city was like nothing he had ever seen before.

There werent just a few skybridges. There were probably a hundred, all leading to a citadel that towered in the very center of town, surrounded by what appeared to be a marketplace.

This is wow, was all he could bring himself to say.

However, he seemed to be the only one, out of the hundreds of people on the bridge with him, who was hanging over the railing to admire the astonishing view of the area. Being a foreigner, he was probably the only one to whom the apparent splendor of Frostborg was alien. Everyones eyes were reserved for Voelv, the shaman, who kept walking in the direction of the citadel, with no qualms about leaving Ash behind to admire panorama view.

Well, shit, he mumbled, and followed her to the end of the bridge, where a couple of guards in matching attire greeted themor well, greeted Voelv, and nodded stiffly to Ash.

The small group got on a lift, and were taken to the marketplace below. Here, Ash was greeted with a myriad of sights and smells. People were selling spices, herbs, weapons, and even feral beasts from abroad. Like everything else in Frostborg, it was like nothing the young elf had ever seen before. Except for one thing, that was exactly the same as in Kanburrough.

Slaves.

They were everywhere, helping out in marketplace stands, tending to the needs of their masters, picking up trash, and even feeding the various monsters for sale. Not all of them were elves, thoughsome were human and others were goblins, but the vast majority of slaves remained elves.

That explains their disdain towards me. Fuckers.

Ash walked on, trying his absolute best to avoid looking at the slaves, fully aware that they were all looking to him with expressions of wonder. Why not us? were probably their most immediate reaction. To that, however, Ash had an answer.

He forced himself to look at the nearest slave, a young elven male. The necromancers expression was not one of compassion, but one radiating the same disdain as those worn by the humans. His eyes were as cold as the snow, as a smirk formed on his lips.

Youre all weak.

That was what set them apart from him. And with that in mind, the young elf entered the citadel, eyes fixated on the same, wide-eyed elven boy, who stared back with a look in his eyes that pissed Ash off immensely. It was one of helplessness, and one that he knew he had once had himself.

Youre nothing like me, you hear?! he screamed at the boy, while he watched the doors to the citadel close before him.

The young elf took a few seconds to calm himself, before turning around. The shaman was in front of him, but she wasnt standing tall and proud as usual.

She was kneeling before a blonde girl, who looked a little bit older than Ash. He didnt know why, but something about her almost made him kneel as well. It wasnt her unparalleled beauty, nor was it the grace with which she carried herself with, as she approached the necromancer. It wasnt the tenderness of her cold, pearly skin, as she touched Ash, either.

It was something completely differentsomething the necromancer had sold body and soul for, still without achieving it.

Authority.

Greetings, Emissary. I am Countess Eerika of Nefar. Welcome to my capital.