The morning air bit at my cheeks as we rode toward the first village, the wind whipping dust and broken leaves across the cracked roads. Frostmarch was waking reluctantly, every step echoing across fields stripped bare of life. The farmers came slowly to the road, wary eyes tracking our approach. They were thin, hollow-cheeked, and suspicious, as though expecting a lord to bring only punishment.
Elizabeth rode beside me, her posture immaculate, her eyes calm, scanning the village layout as if she could already see through the ruined buildings into what they might become. Ice curled faintly around her gloves, not enough to freeze, just enough to steady her hands as she held the reins. She was meticulous, calculating—an administrator before she was a princess, before she was my partner.
The first house we entered sagged at the walls, the roof nearly collapsed. Smoke drifted weakly from a hearth, and the smell of rot mixed with the lingering chill. Children huddled by the fire, eyes wide. Their mothers and fathers looked at me, then at Elizabeth, and back again, as though unsure whether the sun had brought salvation or judgment.
I dismounted. My boots crunched on frost-hardened earth. "How long since the last harvest?" I asked, voice low but carrying.
A man, his ribs faintly visible beneath a threadbare tunic, spoke first. "Three seasons… three winters, my lord. The frost comes early, the rains fail, the roads are broken… the merchants do not come. Gold and silver are no more than tales."
I nodded, absorbing the words. Not enough to strike despair, only enough to plan. Frostmarch did not reward ignorance. I could feel lightning dancing faintly along my forearms, responding to my impatience, water pooling in subtle waves beneath my skin. I did not raise it. Not yet. Survival first. Strategy first.
Elizabeth stepped forward, examining the ledgers the villagers had kept. Many were incomplete, torn, water-damaged, and fading. She did not flinch at the disorder. She did not panic at the missing records. "We will start with what we have," she said. "Old taxes will be suspended immediately. You will not pay for seasons you could not harvest. You will work for coin instead. Five copper per day, per able adult, until the stores are replenished and the land is repaired. All work accounted for in writing, overseen by scribes I will provide."
There was a murmur from the villagers. Some relief, some suspicion. The human mind does not trust easily when it has learned that kings and princes often take without giving.
A woman stepped forward, small and wary. "And if the Black Banner men come?" she asked. Her voice was trembling, though she tried to hide it. "They… they have taken my husband once. They will take him again."
I stiffened. The name struck like a hammer. The Black Banner Consortium. Bandits, exiled knights, rogue mages—criminals who had fled the empire and used Frostmarch as a breeding ground for lawlessness. They were more organized than any mere raider. They had structure, codes, leaders. And now, they were here.
Elizabeth placed a hand lightly on my arm. "We will meet them," she said, voice calm. "But not today. Today, we rebuild."
I looked at her, nodding. She understood the principle: control what you can, delay what you cannot, and prepare for the inevitable confrontation.
I walked among the villagers, inspecting the fields. Broken fences, uprooted crops, and twisted carts littered the mud. Some of the animals were alive but emaciated; others lay frozen in the frost. It was chaos, yes, but it was not hopelessness. Not yet.
"Organize the labor rotations," I instructed the steward, who had accompanied us. "We will repair roads first. Then fences. Then water channels. Each able-bodied adult will contribute, paid in copper coins. No exceptions. Those who cannot work will receive rations, also accounted for."
Elizabeth scribbled rapidly, her ice magic subtly reinforcing her handwriting, pressing neat, unyielding lines into the parchment. "I will oversee the distribution," she said. "And I will verify every coin issued. Mistakes will be corrected immediately."
I spoke to the farmers directly. "Frostmarch will no longer take without giving. You will receive coin for labor, protection for your families, and guidance for your lands. You will survive. And if anyone challenges this rule, they will find lightning and water at the ready."
The words had weight. The farmers understood the promise. I could feel it in their gaze—the flicker of hope, faint but present. A dangerous emotion, perhaps. Hope in Frostmarch was fragile, and fragile things broke easily.
The day wore on as we inspected the next village. Roads were worse here, mud and frost congealed into treacherous paths. The village well had dried. Cattle had fled or been stolen. And the people… they were thinner, older, harder to read. Yet even here, the system began to take root. Work was organized. Coins were issued. Records kept. Mistakes corrected. Slowly, the foundations for trust were laid.
As the sun sank, I allowed myself to consider the threats beyond these villages. The Black Banner Consortium was more than rumor. Scouts had reported movements, small groups appearing and disappearing, almost invisible in their coordination. Bandit camps were hidden along the northern forest edges, near rivers that should have been patrolled, but were left empty. Rogue mages were among them—imperfect, untrained, dangerous.
Elizabeth did not panic at the reports. She sat in the wagon while I mapped patrol routes, her eyes tracing the ink on the maps as if she could see past the lines into the future. "We will require scouts, disciplined patrols, and an intelligence network," she said. "Copper will be allocated for bribes, for trade, for information. Gold reserved for larger contracts. We cannot fight what we do not know."
I nodded. Intelligence first, violence second. Frostmarch demanded pragmatism over bravado.
By the time we returned to the keep, I felt the first genuine weight of responsibility pressing on my shoulders. I had begun to count the living, the dead, the weak, the strong. Frostmarch was no longer merely a border. It was a crucible.
Elizabeth moved silently, arranging the newly issued coins, updating records, and reviewing labor assignments. Her calm precision grounded the chaos, and I could not imagine how I would survive without her mind as a counterbalance to mine.
Evening fell, and I walked once more along the battlements. The villages were visible in the dying light, faint fires marking life and struggle. Somewhere in the forests to the north, shadows moved—organized, purposeful. The Black Banner Consortium would not ignore our presence. They would test us, probe, and perhaps strike. But I did not fear them yet. Frostmarch had teeth, yes. But so did I.
Lightning and water whispered beneath my skin, responding to every shift in the wind, every ripple across the fields, every distant shadow. I would meet these outlaws when the time came. And when I did, they would understand that Frostmarch no longer belonged to anyone but me.
Elizabeth joined me again at the wall. "They will come," she said simply. "But we are ready. They cannot touch what we prepare in daylight, and at night, they will find nothing but vigilance and traps."
I nodded. Frostmarch was a land that punished weakness. The Black Banner Consortium might think they could intimidate, plunder, and vanish. But Frostmarch had chosen a new lord. And I had chosen that it would not consume me, nor Elizabeth, nor the people who dared to work under us.
That night, I slept poorly, boots still beside the bed, magic humming faintly beneath my skin. I did not need nightmares. The day's inspection had been enough. Frostmarch was harsh, unyielding, and full of dangers. But it was alive. And for the first time, I knew that surviving here was not enough. To survive was to begin, to shape, to bend the land itself to our will.
Tomorrow, the labor rotations would begin. Roads would be repaired. Fields would be cleared. Patrols would move along the northern passes. And somewhere in the shadowed forests, the Black Banner Consortium would watch, wondering how much longer Frostmarch could be challenged.
I smiled faintly to myself. Let them watch. Let them wait. Frostmarch had teeth, and I had fire, lightning, and water beneath my skin. And Elizabeth had ice. Together, we would forge life from ruin, order from chaos, and strength from despair.
The first steps were taken. The true challenge had yet to arrive.