Chapter 12 - The Frost-Bound Envoy
The following morning, the great gates of the citadel were thrown open to receive an unexpected delegation.
Word had spread across the continent that Eldoria’s royal line had been restored, but few foreign powers had dared to test the new regime so soon after the Valorian rout. That changed with the arrival of the Frost-Bound Envoy from the northernmost peaks.
King Alden stood upon the high steps of the throne room, flanked by General Vesper and Captain Rowan, as the heavy doors groaned open.
A dozen tall, lean figures walked into the hall. They were clad in heavy furs woven with white-silver threads that shimmered like ice crystals in the morning light. Their faces were carved with stoic, weathered lines, and their eyes were a piercing, crystalline blue. They did not bow as traditional diplomats did; instead, they placed a clenched fist over their hearts in an ancient salute of equality.
Leading them was Lord Kaelen of the Northern Reach, a man whose silver hair fell in heavy braids over his broad shoulders.
“King Alden,” Kaelen spoke, his voice sounding like cracking glacier ice. “We bring neither war nor tribute. We bring a warning.”
Alden stepped down from the dais, his expression guarded but respectful. “A warning from the north? The Wastes have been closed to Eldoria for decades, Lord Kaelen. What could concern us now?”
Kaelen unrolled a heavy animal-skin parchment and laid it upon the stone floor. Ethed into the hide was a glowing symbol identical to the one Lucas had seen in the library map the night before.
“The seal of the First Nest has fractured,” Kaelen said grimly. “When the traitor Malachor shattered the lower vault’s anchor stones, the magical shockwave bled into the northern leylines. It awoke something that should have stayed frozen for a thousand years: the Frost-Wyrm Vanguard.”
A collective murmur broke out among the royal councilmen standing behind the king.
Lucas, standing quietly near the pillars, felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. The dragon-scar flared with a cold, piercing intensity. He stepped forward, his small boots echoing clearly across the hall.
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“They aren't just awake,” Lucas said, his voice cutting through the whispers. “They’re coming here.”
Kaelen turned his icy blue eyes down toward the boy, a flicker of deep recognition passing across his weathered face. “Indeed, young prince. And they do not come to negotiate. They come to reclaim what was lost when your ancestors built this city upon their sacred ground.”
