Gray Marsh Warlord Kaziden Ceceryan galloped onwards towards the first real sign of civilization since they had come to this land. This was at no small part of luck or misfortune- the White Tundra tracker he had brought with them had been told, very clearly, that they were going to have to avoid all civilization, up until they meet the Northern authority here. And the first White Tundra tracker had been beheaded, because he lead them nearly right into a village of considerable size- enough to warrant a couple dozen watchmen, most simply farmers or teenagers who wanted to brag about facing down nonexistent wolves.

Skanda, beneath him, shuddered again, his hide vibrating back and forth in a way usually meant to fend off insects. He didn't like the cold weather, and neither did Kaz- it was unnatural, it was the opposite of what he had grown up in. Oh, the days were boiling hot and the nights cold enough to lightly freeze water, in the winter, but it was never so persistent as this. Day after day after day of constant cold weather, a week and a half of traveling in weather so unlike his own he was sure White Tundra shamans had conjured it up to punish him for the souls he held in his blade. It was needless to say that all but the White Tundra clansmen suffered from the cold, and he was looking forward to warmth- and he'll have it, through welcomed words or bared sword.

His horse slipped, catching himself before anything could happen, on the icy rocks that were common in this country. He muttered a curse under his breath, blaming his father and his White Tundra clansmen for this fool trip. They should've just built ships, and sailed overseas to this land, rather than try and cross by foot or horseback. His thoughts quickly changed, however, when the castle that was supposedly the seat of this land appeared ahead of him. Where he was, there was no need for large, towering walls, or great big keeps of stone blocks- they had lower, domed buildings, walls only a little higher than a cavalryman's head, with the largest buildings only three stories tall, maximum. The castle showed itself to be much, much more impregnable than even the Gray Marsh's capital.

So why not ride straight up to the riders leaving the castle's gates, a dozen armed men.