The wind of the Northern Frontier had never been gentle. The moment it swept across their cheeks, it cut with merciless sharpness.
Magewood's Insect Corpse investigation team had been trekking across these ice plains for nearly two months.
Yet their journey seemed almost entirely futile.
"Another day with nothing to show for it." Someone crouched on the ground and, after a long while, let out a low sigh.
"I'm starting to wonder... was there only ever one Brood Hive? Are we just going in circles for nothing?" The voice sounded exhausted to the point of numbness.
Another mage chimed in from beside him. "You have a point. Blundering around like headless chickens isn't getting us anywhere."
No one argued.
The mood among the mages had begun to grow... dispirited.
Archmage Flora stood on higher ground, her expression composed, though it held a trace of weariness even she had not noticed.
"I don't believe there's only one Brood Hive." Flora's voice was quiet, but everyone could hear her.
"But we certainly shouldn't keep searching blindly. We'll give it a few more days. If we still find nothing, we'll return and change our strategy."
Her tone sounded less like an order than a reluctant compromise.
Even the mage who had complained finally fell silent.
Everyone knew this was no one's fault. They had simply been unlucky.
And time, resources, and morale all had their limits.
It was not until two days later that they finally encountered something "unusual."
"...Look over there." The scout at the front alerted them with a brief magical message, a hint of uncertain tension in the voice.
They looked in the direction indicated.
At the woodland's edge, heavy marching footsteps were crushing the snow.
An army was sweeping through a shallow valley between the trees. Its banners