A full 7 days had passed since the 10 transport ships sailed out of the smoky harbor of City Titan.

"Damnit... I can’t even feel my fucking fingers." Halig groaned, blowing hot air into his leather gloves.

He stomped his boots against the icy wooden deck of the flagship. "You promised me this was a holiday, Erik."

"Stop whining." Erik laughed, though his own breath came out as a white cloud.

He pulled his bear-fur cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Just think about the warm fires and the soft women waiting for us when we return to England."

Though Erik put on a brave and cocky face for his men, he was cursing the freezing weather himself.

The ocean water was so cold that a man who fell overboard would be dead in less than 3 minutes.

Small chunks of white ice were already floating in the dark water around them, bumping against the hulls of the ships.

Erik reached into his coat and pulled out the small box. He flipped the brass latch open and looked at the compass. The little painted needle was still pointing perfectly straight.

"This needle is the only thing keeping us from getting lost in this white fo.," Erik muttered, tapping the glass.

Suddenly, a loud cawing sound echoed from high above the ship’s mast.

Erik and Halig looked up, squinting against the bright, overcast sky.

Circling above the main mast, fighting against the freezing wind, were 3 large black ravens.

"Look!" Halig pointed, a grin breaking across his frozen face. "Ravens! They are flying in from the north and circling our ships."

As such, the mood on the deck instantly changed. A cheer erupted from the nearby soldiers who were huddled together for warmth.

In the harsh world of the open sea, seeing wild land birds meant only one thing.

"We are close..." Erik smiled, carefully tucking the compass back into his coat. "The island is just over the horizon. Tell the men to get ready."

Torstein, the serious commander of the musketeers, walked up from the lower deck. His brown beard was covered in white frost, making him look like an old man, but his eyes were sharp.

"King Erik." Torstein said, "...we have a slight problem. The extreme cold is starting to seep into the lower cargo holds. If the temperature drops any further, the condensation could ruin the black powder pouches."

If the black powder gets damp from sea fog or melting ice, it will not ignite. To fix this, the soldiers must wrap the powder barrels in layers of dry wool and animal fat, keeping the moisture out at all costs.

After hearing such words, Erik frowned. "Make sure your men do whatever it takes to keep that powder completely dry, Torstein. Wrap it in your own blankets if you have to."

"Already done, my King." Torstein nodded. "But we need to make landfall soon. The ice in the water is getting thicker. Even with the iron plates on the ships, if we get caught in a solid freeze, we will be trapped out here until spring."

"Don’t worry..." Erik said, pointing toward the ravens still circling above. "Land is less than a few hours away."

Afterward, they spent the next few hours pushing through the freezing mist.

Every man on board was tense, their hands resting on the steel of their new maces or the wooden stocks of their muskets.

The white fog was so thick that they couldn’t see more than 50 paces ahead of the ship.

Then, Halig suddenly grabbed Erik’s arm, his grip tight enough to bruise.

"Erik... do you see that?" Halig whispered, his eyes wide as he pointed straight ahead into the fog.

Erik squinted. At first, he just saw the endless gray mist. But then, a faint, flickering orange glow appeared in the distance.

It was weak at first, but as the ship slowly pushed forward, the glow grew brighter and larger.

"Fire!" a soldier shouted from the crow’s nest high above. "Fire straight ahead!"

"Is it a volcano?" Torstein asked, stepping up to the wooden railing and narrowing his eyes. "Lord Leofric said Iceland is covered in volcanic sulfur."

"No..." Erik said, "That is a bonfire. A massive one."

Though Erik tried to remain calm, his heart started to beat a little faster.

"Maybe it’s the 200 scouts!" Halig said, "Maybe their ships crashed, and they built a giant fire to signal us! They knew we would come looking for them!"

"Or maybe the farmers are waiting for us." Torstein muttered.

"Only one way to find out!" Erik grinned. The familiar thrill of battle finally warmed his frozen blood. "Tell the men to load their weapons! If it’s the scouts, we bring them home. If it’s the farmers, we crush their skulls and take their sulfur!"

The sound of 1,500 muskets being loaded echoed across the 10 ships.

The transport ships finally broke through the last layer of the thick white fog. The rocky shores of Iceland appeared right in front of them, covered in a blanket of pristine white snow.

Sitting right on the edge of the freezing beach was the source of the fire.

It wasn’t a signal bonfire made of gathered wood. It was a ship.

Specifically, it was one of the Iron Kingdom’s scouting ships that had vanished a month ago. The wooden hull was engulfed in roaring orange flames, sending black smoke up into the gray sky.

"..."

"That is one of our scouting ships. Why is it burning now? It has been a whole month."

"Look at the beach!" Halig gasped, leaning over the railing.

As such, Erik looked past the burning ship. The snowy beach was completely empty.

But scattered all across the white snow, leading away from the burning ship and heading deep into the dark pine forest... were dozens of black iron weapons, dropped in the snow as if the men holding them had simply vanished.

Erik narrowed his eyes. He saw a trail of expensive Iron Kingdom muskets and heavy coats scattered across the beach, leading straight into the pine trees.

"It is simple..." Erik said, pointing a finger toward the dark tree line. "It was a trap from the people in here for our warriors. They used the heavy snow and the dark night to surround the camp. They might have killed them all before our boys even had a chance to wake up."

Torstein frowned, "...that makes no sense. If the farmers ambushed them, why are all the weapons just lying there in the snow?"

Erik let out a low chuckle. "Because they were afraid."

After hearing such words, Torstein’s shoulders finally relaxed. "Those dirty cowards... they attacked our scouts in their sleep!"

Erik turned his back to the island and looked down at the 10 transport ships bobbing in the freezing water. "Drop the ramps! I want all 1,500 musketeers on that beach right now! Keep your powder dry and your maces ready!"

Despite the biting cold, they marched down the ramps in straight lines, their boots crunching loudly onto the icy beach.

As such, the empty, silent beach was quickly transformed into a military staging ground.

The soldiers formed up into their 5 battalions.

Erik jumped down from the flagship. Halig and Torstein walked right behind him.

"Form up the lines!" Torstein yelled to the 1,500 men, "Fix your bayonets and check your powder! We march into the tree line!"

The soldiers unhooked the steel maces from their belts, letting them hang loosely by their sides for easy access in close combat.

"Listen to me, boys!" Erik shouted, walking up and down the front line of the army. "Show no mercy!"

"For the Iron Father!" the 1,500 soldiers roared back.

Afterward, Erik drew his mace and pointed it straight at the dense pine forest. "Forward!"

The massive army began to march. They followed the trail of dropped weapons, moving away from the safety of the beach and entering the shadows of the tall pine trees.

As they walked deeper into the forest, the temperature seemed to drop even further. The air was so cold it burned their lungs.

"Keep your eyes open." Torstein whispered, holding his musket tightly against his chest. "If they ambushed the scouts, they might try to ambush us."

They marched for what felt like an hour, following a narrow, snowy path between the giant trees. Erik checked the magnetic compass he had placed in his pocket. It still pointed straight North.

They were heading directly toward the center of the island, right where the volcanic sulfur deposits were supposed to be.

Suddenly, Erik stopped. He raised his left fist into the air, the universal signal to halt.

Behind him, the 1,500 men instantly stopped marching.

"What is it?" Halig whispered, stepping up next to Erik.

Erik narrowed his eyes, staring at a snow-covered pine tree about 50 paces ahead of them.

Tied around the wooden trunk of the tree was a large piece of dirty, frozen cloth.

Erik slowly walked forward, keeping his mace raised.

Pinned to the center of the coat, driven deep into the wood of the tree, was a heavy iron hunting knife. And carved into the bark of the tree, right above the pinned coat, were old, jagged Norse runes.

Torstein and Halig hurried up to stand next to Erik.

"What does it say?" Torstein asked, his breath misting in the freezing air as he looked at the jagged carvings.

Erik stared at the runes, a strange feeling settling in his stomach.

"Erik... what does the fucking tree say?" Halig pushed.

Erik slowly turned his head to look at his friends, his confident grin completely gone.

"It says..." Erik whispered, his grip tightening on his mace until his knuckles turned white. "If you brought the cursed fire with you... why did you forget to look up?"