The salty sea breeze leading my caravel along turned to a chilling wind as I drew closer to the iceberg island. A cold almost familiar to me from my home, yet so distant as well. The seas seemed calmer than normal for the War Seas, though the waters were still rough like the day before, slamming into the hull of the boat. If I hadn’t gotten it repaired before I don’t know if it would have made the trip.
As I continued to sail I took another look at the sails of that order from before. Despite all of the time I had spent before, I had never heard of this group. I would have thought this would be something I’d have heard of in my travels. I looked back to the bow of the boat to see I’ve nearly reached my destination.
Frostmill Island, the town built on an iceberg. It still to this day baffles me how they can live off of here with the chunk of ice being suspended in the sea. Chunks of floating ice surrounded the glacier making it difficult for larger ships to get in and out but served as ice fishing platforms for those daring enough to try it. The houses of the town are built of wood that quite clearly had to be exported in and the rooftops are covered in snow.
At the dockyards I saw a few ships, three of which stood out. A red and grey sailboat that bombastically contrasted the rest of the ships. another sailboat, this one of redwake craftsmanship. Lastly a familiar rowboat propped up onto the docks themselves, likely the one Baltazar took over here. I’m glad to know he’s still here. I might be able to ask him for any information he found.
I pulled my ship up to the docks and raised the sails. The cold winds blowing through the snowy lands blew through my beard landing flakes of snow in it. The shipyard looked busier than normal, notably with a man shouting over everyone else of becoming the greatest pirate of the seas. A strange thing to hear in a small place like this but a real pirate wouldn’t parade it like that to my knowledge. Disregarding that, upon looking not far past the docks I found the Redwake scout I was told of.
He stood in the snow by the fence, overlooking the seas towards the Jaws. He wore an animal pelt cloak and hood over usual cold weather attire with the Redwake symbol on the shoulders. He held his hands in his pockets and seemed a bit cold. He had a full thick beard with short hair, though the beard was not braided like mine. Finally, someone who didn’t make me feel unoriginal for my choice in hair style. He had a bit of a tan like he’d been to a warmer climate prior to this. I walked along the path and approached him.
“Hello there.” I said to him politely. “Are you Hallfrid?”
“Ah, hello.” Hallfrid said as he turned to me. “Yes, that’s me, do I know you?”
“Stanford Magnusson.” I introduced myself to him, extending a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Stanford.” he shook my hand. “Anything I can help you with?”
“I was wondering, have you heard of any strange activity around anywhere you’ve been lately?” I asked him.
“Hmm… Strange activity…” he thought to himself. “Well there is something I’ve heard from around Frostmill here.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Supposedly there’s some type of curse on the island here. The iceberg is supposedly melting. But I haven’t heard much else of it. I think they’re trying to keep their mouth shut about it though.” he explained
“Hm? Why would that be?” I asked him.
“Might be because I’m around, given Redwake is part of the Sameria claim, and Frostmill is a part of the Ravenna realm, it only makes sense they’d want to keep this quiet.” he said. “Maybe the mayor will open up a bit more to you though.”
“That makes sense to me.” I said, thinking out loud.
“Either way though, I don’t think I’m gonna be learning a whole lot more from staying here, and I’m bloody cold. So I’m going to head back.” he told me as he tried to rub his hands together for warmth.
“Makes sense. Thank you, and see you around.” I told him as he left.
“May the winds guide your sails, friend.” he responded.
Frostmill? Melting? The possibility never crossed my mind as Frostmill is known for floating through colder waters in areas where the weather is freezing. So the island melting should be out of the question. Something’s not quite right around here, might be that strange group again.
I walked into town proper. Spears of ice clung to the overhang of the houses, piles of snow pushed to the edge of the roads revealing the cobblestone paths beneath. The people of the town seemed to be going on as normal but it was abundantly clear there was an air of tension looming as if something was amiss.
I asked around to see if anybody knew where the mayor was, and was pointed towards a part of the town overlooking the seas. There stood an older man with messy white hair, a full beard and neatly maintained moustache that had seen better days. He wore a white jacket and bulky black pants leading down to leather boots. He seemed almost lost in thought looking over at the seas.
“Excuse me, would you happen to be the mayor of this town?” I asked him as I walked up.
“Ah, yes. That would be me. What do you need?” he answered, seemingly snapping back to reality.
“I heard of some sort of curse over the town, something about it melting away.” I asked.
“Yes... or at least that's what the villagers believe. I don't think it's true, but there is certainly something strange happening here... About a few days ago, the island started melting much faster, and it hasn’t been as cold.” he explained.
“Huh, Do you think it’s because the iceberg has drifted into warmer waters?” I asked.
“Hmm... I've heard that Redwake has recently been having a similar issue with its ships, but no. Frostmill is melting from the top down, according to Enizor. He's our alchemist, one of the greatest in the world, and knows a lot about this island.” he explained further.
“I see… Is there anything I could do to help out?” I asked him again, looking to lend a hand.
“Hmm… That’s a good question. There’s a camp of brigands up there but I doubt they’d know anything, nevermind tell you without you prying it from their dying breath…” He thought to himself. “Though I do recall another person going up there not too long ago. He arrived in a rowboat and after asking around a bit he just walked up to the same peaks. He hasn’t returned but if he hasn’t frozen to death yet, maybe he would know something or other.”
“Alright, I’ll go see what he knows.” I agreed, I’m not completely sure but I’d assume that’s Baltazar.
“You’re serious? Well if you’re going up there be warned that it’s really bloody cold.” He cautioned me.
“Not to worry, I know a thing or two about the cold.” I said, thinking back to the cold snowy days back in Jotunheim. Blizzards and harsh winds blowing through the streets, snow blockading our doors holding us into our houses. Only thing keeping me warm was the fireplace at home, and the forge back at the smith.
“Ah, I see,” he said. “You should be alright then.”
“I’ll go check to see what he knows and be back before sundown.” I answered.
“Great, many thanks to you, traveller.” he thanked me. “I’m unsure if he’ll know anything ”
He waved me off as I followed the path towards the cliffside. The icy peaks loomed overhead, a tall and slippery climb. Piles of snow covered each lip of the ice making it difficult to tell where I could grasp onto. A cold wind rushed by blowing bits of snow off of the wall. A daunting test given the circumstances.
I stepped back from the wall and began to channel my magic, two magic circles appeared around my hands as I focused, creating an unmolded ball of metal in each. Concentrating on the idea I had in mind, the magic energy swirled around the metallic sphere. Chips of the metal torn off into the essence and reattached elsewhere, forming together to create two small metal spikes that fit into a hand each. I caught my breath a bit winded from the spell, it was a little outside of my skills as a mage. I approached the wall, spikes in hand. I struck one into the wall to create a point of contact and worked my way up the icy wall.
Reaching the top of the wall, I dispelled the copper pitons as I observed my surroundings. The peaks were frigid, a bone chilling wind blew past. Snow covered the ground, yet was frozen solid enough to stand on. Large higher spikes of ice continued to climb to greater heights. In the distance around the higher cliffs I saw a grouping of igloos surrounding a campfire, something tells me that’s the brigand camp. Trying to avoid conflict I made note to mind my business.
Passing a large spike of ice in the iceberg was what looked to be buried houses, a whole village of them in fact. Mounds of snow entombing the wood beneath the surface, makes a guy wonder why the people of Frostmill haven’t gone and dug this up yet, before quickly remembering the blizzards. Not far past the ruins however was a familiar man in a full suit of leather armor and gloves and the same drained hair from before, Baltazar was standing by the icy cliffside.
As I approached him, it seemed as if he was struggling to concentrate on something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. As I was getting closer he suddenly began channeling his magic, a weak ashen cloud swirled around him. He suddenly shouted.
“Damn it all!” as he swung his arm out to the side ending the channeling.
“Is something the matter?” I asked him.
He practically jumped, turning around quickly and drawing his blade from before.
“Who goes there- Oh…” he sheathed his sword “It’s you again, I figured you were one of those bandits.”
“Not a problem.” I said, “Happens more often than you’d think.”
“Any luck over at that town amidst the giant stone spikes?” he asked.
“You mean Redwake? No, unfortunately. I was told to find a scout here and that led me up to you.” I told him.
“Well that makes two of us.” he said, a bit disappointed. “The people here didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge aside from some rumor about the iceberg melting.”
He paused briefly as he seemed to think. I was still curious as to what he was trying to do though.
“If you don’t mind me asking, When I arrived you were pretty frustrated with something. What’s exactly the problem?” I asked.
“Ah, that…” he muttered, seemingly thinking to himself. “Well, given you’ve been through the same thing back at the prison, I’ll tell you.”
He stood back and began channeling his magic again, the same ash cloud formed around him as he spoke again.
“You see this ash magic?” he said.
“Yeah, you had it back at the prison as well if I recall correctly.” I recalled.
“Well, ever since before that hellhole of a prison, I’ve always been an ice mage, not an ash mage. I have no idea what’s going on, but whatever they did at that prison seems to have messed with my ability to channel my magic.” he explained as I continued to listen. “I was thinking if I went to the coldest place possible it may help me attune to it again. But it doesn’t seem to be helping.”
Well that was a lot to take in. That order from before was able to de-attune him from his magic? Was that what they tried to do to me? But then why did I react so violently to it? This just makes me even more confused, though I may have an idea of how to help.
“You don’t think it has something to do with that rumor going around town?” I suggested to him, “If the issue is trying to use the cold to re-attune then the island melting away probably isn’t helping.”
He thought for a bit, in my mind it made sense. Trying to focus on the cold while it's warm out isn’t going to make a whole lot of sense.
“Well that might do it…” he said before asking, “Do you know what may be causing it?”
“Not particularly. I came up here to see if you might’ve known.” I answered.
“Hmm, well I do remember seeing some redhead come here not long after I arrived. She was headed past the ruined village and I haven’t seen her since, maybe she might know?” he suggested.
“It’s worth a shot.” I responded.
“Alright, If I remember right she walked past the buried town, then between those peaks.” he pointed in the general direction. “I’ll lead the way.”
“Alright.” I answered.
We walked in silence through the buried village, roofing collapsed under the sheer weight of the snow. Remnants of the walls piercing the frozen wastes as we walked what we could only assume to have been buried walkways. Neither of us really had a whole lot to say. He also never really struck me as the talking type since I’ve met him. Still though, I wonder what his deal is. He’s always been cold towards me and even the others back on the island we hid out at.
After our quiet trudge through the snowy plateau, I felt something was off. I looked at Baltazar and he looked at me too.
“You feel that too?” he asked.
“Yeah, the air feels… warmer?” I answered.
“It does, we must be close.” he responded.
Up ahead I noticed a light glowing from up ahead between two of the glacial peaks, almost like a fire.
“If what my gut is telling me is right, then our culprit is just up ahead.” I told Baltazar, pointing toward the glow before us.
“Something’s telling me you’re right.” He agreed, let’s check it out.
I nodded and we ran towards the glow between the icy cliffs. Towards the edge of the iceberg we saw what looked to be a torrent of fire with a person standing within. As we approached them I saw less and less snow as we drew closer to the source. The cliff sides lost their rigidity and became more smooth and rounded on the edges, as if the cliff sides had melted away. Eventually we got close enough to see what, or more so who, was causing it.
The person causing it was what looked to be a woman of Ravennean descent. She wore a brown winter coat, and black leather pants. She had long red hair and green eyes with freckles on her scowled face. Clearly she wasn’t too happy about something. She looked at us with a fury as fiery and shouted.
“You finally found me-” she started to shout before pausing in confusion. “Wait a second. You two aren’t from Ravenna.”
“No, we’re just a couple of travellers coming through. The folks at Frostmill Town were getting concerned about the melting iceberg.” I explained. “They believe it to be a curse.”
“Yeah, that’d be me.” she said bluntly.
“Explain yourself then.” Baltazar commanded.
“Why should I explain myself to you two?” she snapped at us.
Baltazar went to confront her but I put my arm out in front of him. As I reached into my bag. I pulled out my old navy captain’s hat and held it out to her.
“I was formerly a captain of the Grand Navy, during my time there I’ve learned most crime doesn’t just come from a sudden urge. If there’s any specific reason why you’re committing terrorism towards a poor cargo town living off of an iceberg I’d like to pass a message to the Navy to lend you a hand .” I explained to her.
She looked like she wanted to protest, but then stopped and thought to herself. Baltazar also looked surprised by the revelation but didn’t comment. The woman then spoke up.
“Alright, that explains you, but what about your pal?” she asked.
“He’s with me.” I told him, to the further surprise of Baltazar.
She thought for a minute, then sighed before speaking up.
“Fine… I’ll talk.” she said. “But I’m keeping it short, I still don’t trust him.”
She pointed at Baltazar, to which he just nodded.
“Works for me,” he said.
“Long story short, I’m Iris. I used to live in Ravenna with my father until about a few weeks ago, then the soldiers arrested him. They wouldn’t tell me why, so I came here to sabotage the Ravenna Realm anyway I can.”
Ah, Ravenna. A larger savannah island known almost as well for its pasta dishes as it is for the famed Mt. Caesar in the middle of it. Ever since the rise of King Calvus III the island had seemed to prosper in ways the previous king hadn’t been able to push forward. Though with the kidnapping of people like Amena and now the detainment of this girl’s father, just what is going on over there? Still, I can’t let her melt these folks into the ocean.
“I see, doesn’t that sound a bit rash?” I asked. “This doesn’t seem to be a place akin to Fort Talos, you could harm a lot of innocent folks.”
“I didn’t come here for a lecture, gramps.” Iris spat.
“Right,” I sighed. “Anyway, If that’s the case I could push the case forward to the Grand Navy but I’m unsure what discretion they would have over the Bronze Legion on Ravenna.”
She sighed before declining.
“I appreciate the offer. But the Navy will just arrest me for the damage I’ve caused. Admittedly this wasn’t the best plan I’ve had.” Iris conceded.
“Well, if you aren’t going to melt the iceberg what are you going to do now?” Baltazar asked.
“I don’t know, bury myself in the snow and wallow in my sorrows?” she said sarcastically. “No, I'm going to find out why they captured him! Duh.”
Baltazar looked like he regretted speaking up.
“Well if you want to go, I won’t stop you.” I told her. “But leave the poor folks here out of it. Your gripes are with the Bronze Legion, not them.”
She grunted and just stormed past us, leaving me and Baltazar in momentary silence.
“Well that’s that.” Baltazar spoke up suddenly. “I’m going to go back to channeling my magic. Thanks for the help in handling her.”
“Sounds good to me.” I responded, before we both turned back towards the snowstorms atop the iceberg, returning whence we came.
This encounter still only leads to more questions than answers. Ravenna is apprehending its own citizens? Why? Ravenna being the diplomat keeping Keraxe in line, it doesn’t make sense to weaken its own population like this. What is going on in the Bronze Sea?
Going to Frostmill has nearly put me back to square one, with now knowing new information about Ravenna. Thinking to myself on the way back down the cliffside about the questions at hand I still just can’t get my head around it. Without much in the way of answers, it might just be time to sail across to the south-east down to Palo Town to ask the folks there what they may know.