For a normal adventuring party, the journey to Frostveil would take a month.
And that was assuming nothing went wrong.
The northern mountain roads were infamous—narrow paths carved into cliff faces, blind turns hugging sheer drops, avalanches that could swallow caravans whole. Snowfall could bury trails overnight. Winds howled through passes with enough force to push wagons sideways.
Animals needed rest.
People needed sleep.
Supplies ran low.
Fear set in.
But Jax and the Vixens did not travel like a normal party.
The Grimsteeds did not tire.
They did not eat.
They did not complain.
Grim and Steed pulled the improved caravan at a relentless, controlled pace—hooves striking stone without slipping, breath steaming in rhythmic bursts of shadowed mist.
Inside, life was comfortable.
The dimensional space hummed softly with warmth. The kitchen produced hot meals daily. The Vixens rotated between training, lounging, teasing Jax, and watching snowfall through illusion screens he had installed for atmosphere.
No campfires.
No night watches.
No roadside ambushes.
The caravan hovered slightly above uneven ground thanks to Jax's structural reinforcement modifications, gliding more than rolling.
Ten days.
That was all it took.
Arrival at Frostveil
The Grimsteeds signaled as instructed.
A subtle pulse through Jax's system.
Arrival detected.
He stepped out first.
The cold air kissed his skin sharply—but his armor adjusted instantly. The crystalline veins woven into the Dragon-scale plating glowed faintly white, regulating temperature.
His black trench coat shifted in the mountain breeze.
Eclipse Requiem rested inverted at his sides.
The Vixens followed.
Llandra's cloak shimmered silver against snowlight.
Zee adjusted her scarf calmly.
Bunny bounced lightly in excitement.
Nyxian stretched dramatically as if the journey had been exhausting.
Ahead stood Frostveil.
A city built into a mountain plateau, encircled by towering stone walls reinforced with ice-carved runes. Massive ironbound gates protected the entrance.
Above them, banners fluttered—deep blue cloth marked with a silver mountain crest.
Guards lined the ramparts.
One of them called down.
"We were informed of your acceptance of the mission—but we did not expect you for several weeks."
Jax smiled lightly.
"Roads were clear."
The guards' eyes drifted downward.
To the Grimsteeds.
Two A-Rank beasts.
Domesticated.
Harnessed.
Obedient.
One guard muttered, "Those are… Grimsteeds."
Another whispered, "And alive."
The gates opened.
Slow.
Heavy.
Respectful.
Frostveil Proper
Rather than retreating into their dimensional comfort, they chose to ride visibly into the city.
Let people see them.
Frostveil was stunning.
Snow blanketed rooftops in soft curves, but streets were lined with dark volcanic stone—lava rock imported from southern trade routes, enchanted to retain warmth. The roads were clear of ice.
Steam rose faintly from heated grates.
Buildings were thick-walled, timber-reinforced, with sloped roofs to prevent snow buildup. Carved stone gargoyles channeled melted runoff into irrigation troughs.
Many of the locals were goat-kin—broad-shouldered, sure-footed mountain folk with curling horns and heavy wool coats.
Others were bundled humans, dwarves, and a few elves wrapped tightly in fur-lined cloaks.
The air was cold.
But not biting.
The surrounding mountain walls blocked most wind, and the sunlight reflecting off the snow gave the entire plateau a brilliant, almost blinding glow.
Jax breathed in deeply.
"Ski resort energy," he murmured to himself.
Nyxian looked at him. "You're doing that thing again where you reference something none of us know."
"What's a Ski Resort?" Zee inquired.
"A place where people visit and attach two sticks to their feet and glide down mountains for recreational fun."
"Oooh, that does sound fun," Bunny chimed in.
Frostveil Adventurers Guild
The guild hall was smaller than Solmere's—but sturdy.
Built of reinforced stone and timber beams thicker than tree trunks.
Inside, it was warm.
A hearth roared at the center.
Tables were filled with hardened mountain adventurers—fur cloaks thrown over chair backs, axes and frost-spears leaned against walls.
Behind the reception counter stood the Guild Master himself.
Tall.
Lean.
An older goat-kin man with spiraling horns and a narrow, disciplined beard flowing from his chin.
His eyes were sharp, intelligent.
This was not a ceremonial leader.
This was a veteran.
"Guild Master Willvard Stonehorn," he introduced himself. "But folks here call me Billy."
"We did not expect you so soon."
Jax extended his hand. The irony of his name was not lost on him.
"Jax. And the Vixens."
Billy gripped his forearm firmly.
His gaze lingered slightly on the inverted holsters.
Then on the Grimsteeds outside.
Then on Jax's eyes.
There it is, Billy thought.
The same presence Kaelor described in his courier report.
Frostveil's Story
Over warm mountain ale, Willvard spoke.
"Frostveil began as a mining settlement. Ice crystals. Rare frost metals. We trade heavily in preservation enchantments, cooling systems, and winter crops."
He gestured toward the eastern ridge.
"Our goat-kin farmers grow frostgrain—resistant to snow. Mountain berries used in medicinal tonics. Fur trade thrives here."
He paused.
"But we are not immune to danger."
The Frost Giant.
Seen near the eastern harvest terraces.
Massive.
Blue-white skin like carved glacier stone.
Destroyed a field of frostgrain.
And vanished back toward the high ridge.
"The ridge borders the newly discovered raid cave," Tharvald continued. "We suspect it emerged from there."
Jax leaned back slightly.
"Escaped dungeon entity."
Tharvald nodded grimly.
"Such things happen when mana concentrations destabilize."
Nyxian perked up. "So we're dealing with a territorial giant with possible dungeon reinforcement?"
"Correct."
Zee scribbled notes automatically.
Llandra asked, "Any sightings since the field incident?"
"None," Tharvald said. "Which worries me more."
The Plan
Jax stood.
"We'll take two days."
Tharvald raised an eyebrow.
"Acclimating?"
"Observing," Jax corrected. "Mapping. Talking to locals. Understanding terrain."
Tharvald's eyes approved silently.
Too many parties rush.
Too many die.
"Take what time you need," he said. "We would rather you return successful than return quickly."
The Vixens smiled.
They already felt the difference.
This guild master thought like Kaelor.
Measured.
Strategic.
Leaving the Hall
As they exited, murmurs followed them.
"That's the record-breakers."
"Those beasts are A-Rank."
"They got here in ten days…"
Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily in the afternoon light.
Bunny turned in a slow circle.
"It's beautiful."
Nyxian grinned.
"And cold."
Zee adjusted her coat.
"I like it."
Jax looked toward the eastern ridge.
The mountain beyond shimmered faintly.
Somewhere beyond it—
A Frost Giant.
And a raid cave that had not yet been conquered.
He smiled slightly.
"Two days," he said.
"Then we hunt."
And above Frostveil, clouds rolled quietly across the mountain peaks.
Waiting.