Activities were becoming increasingly hostile in the North, and rumors began to spread some of the duchies were showing signs of unrest, even if the nobles were being loyal to the cause. Though some questions were stirring around the duchy of Turgall, he would address Duke Harmond's actions on his return. For now, he was heading North, into Hellvion.
The Duke of Hellvion was normally amicable, but his wife- something no man could tame. Duchess Melora was famous for this, and now it was time for him to save face before them. The Duchess was writhing mad when she found out mages were destroying her roads in attempts at a boycott so that goods from her land could not get in or out. Letters, she claimed, were not enough action from the Grand Duke so he sent one last letter informing her he would arrive personally to deal with his manner and help assess the situation on her own home front. Allar, the Grand Duke's home duchy, was not much different than Hellvion in terrain, though coastal trade was near impossible for Hellvion, due to the wicked mountains that separated Hellvion from the sea.
Things seemed to quiet down after that as Grand Duke Allarrick began his preparations for the long journey North. Winter was on it's way, the temperature dropping near freezing by the time his caravan began to leave the capital, and already there was about two feet of snow on the ground once he passed the duchy of Turgall and was making his way westwardly through Wulfbauer. But the winds were picking up, and the snow was unrelenting.
It was a blinding force, but Calent was adamant they stick to course. Even through the rocky and uneven, cliff-side roads of Hellvion as they iced over.
"You are well aware of the famous temper of Duchess Melora. We should do our best not to trifle with her. I would hate to see any favor of the duchies bend because they fear my actions are inadequate." And his men left it at that. But as the carriage lurched forward, and the horses, slipping on the road, his men called for a break.
Even an hour break cast nearly another foot of snow on his trail, and the temperature was growing colder by the minute. It seemed a bit early for such weather, though summer ended early, and most assumed to be ready for a longer, colder winter this year.
They were not wrong.
As snow flooded the trail, they made camp against the hillside, and a fire was made to keep everyone warm. Though the Grand Duke was used to much more cozy accommodations, it could not be said for certain how close they were to the next town. But this break was limited, or so he thought, but as they snow's continued, it seemed even the horses were becoming buried.
"We can not stay here or we'll freeze. We could move along on foot," Calent had suggested, but Zannrick, ever his right hand man, gave a scoff.
"And risk your life? You know these mage rebels could be tailing us and waiting for a weak moment."
"Then let them try to fight in the snow." Calent challenged, and Zannrick immediately quieted. Keeping his hand to the pummel of his sword, the mordecai bowed his head before the Grand Duke.
"If my liege wishes to press onward, we could break up the party and continue on foot. It would be another five days travel north, perhaps six, with the incoming weather, but we could push onward much more successfully that way to get to the castle."
Though as Calent agreed, Zannrick had to wonder why he'd risk the trek. They could all freeze to death if the weather became more violent. And Connlaoth needed it's ruler. He was a firm believer in what his duke preached, so he would not question his game of politics, but it seemed preposterous to risk ones life to appease the silly wife of a Duke.
But Calent knew better. Hellvion was very important in this political game. Fall out of favor with her, and most duchies of the west would join. There were already accounts on their being some doubt, and he wished to stomp that out. There would be unity in his reign, this much he'd make for certain.
So the party continued on foot- those with the horses turning back and more rations and supplies were given to the remaining men. Snow shoes were now worn in order to make the travel all the lighter, but two days of snow soon turned into two more days of ice.
Travel was impossible, and Calent found himself and his men needing to make more frequent stops to make camp, and now with another mountainous road set before them- they were making camp yet again.
It was maddening and the snow mixed with the ice made the terrain all the more uncertain and treacherous. And as he sat up late that night, the winds howling all around him, the Grand Duke found himself unable to sleep- though he rarely did, and when he did sleep.... the nightmares would always come.
This night was nothing any different, as the shadows of his mind danced across his vision in vivacious details. Curved and dark and dangerous- and full of blood. And the murder was replayed in his mind- and each time it felt far more real than the last.
He awoke in a sweat, though the fire had long gone out. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, and his breath came out in a puff of white. Pushing his tent side open he stumbled to a halt as he was pelted with both win, snow and uncomfortable icy rain.
But he had to piss, and he had to get out of that tent, lest his own mind consume him, and fervently he rushed through the quiet snow towards a hill side to relieve himself though he did not stop there. No, to quell his mind he began a long trek from camp- finding himself desiring the solitude- no, needing it. Though as he came to the edge of a path he found himself foolishly lost for as he turned around- he had no idea which way he had gone. The path had become more dangerous and the snow falling so fast his tracks were well covered up. Had he not been so distracted with that dream...
but that was neither here nor there, for he was already lost on this long cold road, and the temperature was dropping fast.
Considering the path followed along the cliff side, he figured there was only one way left to go- but one wrong stepped proved him wrong, and his journey back soon ended there as the ice beneath him gave out and he fell through a ditch unseen- for the snow had covered it well and he had offered just the right amount of weight to break it-
and down the hillside he wet, crashing through rough ice and snow and rocks in a painful tumble until somewhere, near the endless bottom- he settled into an unmoving heap.