The Defense Line Collapses and the Grayblood Bone Pillar

By the middle of the Blood Moon Season, White Fang Fief had been transformed, from its fortifications to the fighting strength of its soldiers.

Layers of old and fresh blood had congealed into a blackened crust on the outer Bluestone Wall.

Trenches extended outward from the foot of the wall, forming three main defensive lines.

Recruits who had first been sent to the front three months ago now leaned behind the barricades.

Each held a sharpened Silver-Plated Iron Spear in one hand. Their leather gloves were stained with black blood that would not wash out.

Low growls came from beyond the wall, but no one inside the defenses ran about in panic.

Otto, the nominal lord of White Fang Fief, walked the frozen ground as he inspected the inner communication trench.

Mud stained the hem of his heavy velvet cloak, which bore his family crest. His eyes were bloodshot, and unwashed grit sat in the creases of his forehead.

The real authority over the defenses had passed to Hughes, the Administrative Supervisor sent by Blackpine Fief, the day Otto signed the Covenant.

But Otto still made his rounds every day, wandering here and there.

He did it to give himself something to do and to find a little reassurance, like an odd landlord who had handed over the keys but still came by daily to see how the house was doing.

The far end of the communication trench connected to a corpse-burning ditch.

A purification soldier scooped Sacred Ash mixture from a coarse sack and spread it evenly along the ditch's edge.

Otto stopped and examined the depth of the layer at the bottom. "That's thick. Can supplies keep up? Did Hughes order this?"

The soldier lowered his shovel, stood straight, and saluted. "My lord, this is standard procedure from