Chapter 3 - Little Winter
The Capital of the Iron Reign rose from the wasteland like a fortress built to challenge the end of the world itself.
Miles of black steel walls surrounded the city. Massive artillery cannons lined the outer defences. Endless factory districts breathed smoke into the darkening sky while armoured trains thundered through elevated rail systems overhead.
But above all else
stood the Three Towers.
Gigantic obsidian-black structures pierced the heavens at the centre of the capital, illuminated by crimson industrial lights and rotating defence arrays. They were visible from almost anywhere within the United Wasteland.
Symbols of power.
Symbols of survival.
Symbols that humanity still endured.
The tallest tower belonged to the High Command of the Iron Reign.
And tonight
its highest chamber remained silent.
Massive windows overlooked the endless city below while storm clouds gathered in the distance beyond the wasteland horizon.
Inside the chamber, General August Winter stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
Even among Steelborn, General Winter was intimidating.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His dark military coat hung heavily over reinforced officer armor marked with silver rank sigils. Short gray-black hair framed a hard weathered face lined by old scars and sleepless years.
His pale cybernetic eye glowed faintly red in the dim chamber light.
A warrior.
A ruler.
A survivor of thirty years of endless war.
And yet
at this moment
he stood respectfully silent before a child.
Einar Winter sat calmly beside the massive window overlooking the city.
Small hands folded neatly across his lap.
Silver-white hair.
Pale flawless skin.
Piercing blue eyes older than nations.
The vampire child wore elegant black aristocratic clothing beneath a fur-lined cloak designed to shield him from sunlight. Frost slowly spread across the floor beneath his boots without his awareness.
The air around him felt colder than winter itself.
Ancient.
Still.
Dangerous.
General Winter finally spoke.
“The eastern surveillance fleets confirmed another Baalanian incursion near the Valdoran routes.”
Einar continued staring silently at the city below.
“The southern deserts?”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
General Winter nodded once.
“The cults are spreading faster now.”
Silence lingered.
Far below, countless city lights flickered beneath the gathering storm.
Then Einar smiled faintly.
“You sound worried, little Winter.”
The massive Steelborn general exhaled slowly through his nose.
Only Einar called him that.
Only Einar could survive doing so.
General Winter walked toward the window.
“You’ve seen the reports.”
“Yes.”
“Entire kingdoms collapsing in Elyria. Ports vanishing in Valdora. Refugee fleets disappearing near the western oceans.”
Einar’s expression faded slightly.
“The infection spreads.”
The room became colder.
Even the armored guards near the chamber doors shifted uncomfortably.
General Winter folded his arms.
“The Great Wall of Ryujin still holds in Azura.”
“For now,” Einar replied quietly.
Far across the world, the Great Wall of Ryujin divided eastern Azura from the horrors beyond.
An impossible structure stretching across mountains, oceans, forests, and deserts like a colossal serpent forged by ancient dragon gods.
The final barrier between civilization
and Baalania.
But even legends cracked eventually.
General Winter’s voice lowered.
“The northern kingdoms of Elyria are already preparing for war.”
Einar finally looked toward him.
“Elyria always prepares for war.”
Ancient forests.
Vampire courts.
Snow-covered castles.
Ruined kingdoms haunted by old bloodlines and older monsters.
Elyria survived because it never stopped fighting.
General Winter continued.
“Valdora’s sea routes are collapsing. Nharos closed its western borders last month.”
Einar nodded slowly.
“Nharos understands something humanity keeps forgetting.”
“What’s that?”
The vampire child’s blue eyes darkened slightly.
“Monsters do not stop simply because walls exist.”
Silence followed again.
Then
soft footsteps echoed through the chamber.
Two men dressed entirely in black entered the room.
Twins.
Identical black hair.
Identical pale skin.
Sharp identical features.
Both appeared young, calm, and unnervingly graceful.
One carried twin black pistols holstered beneath a long combat coat.
The other wore a dark curved sword across his back.
Neither looked like Steelborn.
They were smaller.
Leaner.
Faster.
Predators built differently.
The pistol wielder bowed slightly.
“The outer security patrols report increased atmospheric interference.”
The swordsman calmly approached Einar’s side.
“Something is approaching the capital.”
General Winter frowned immediately.
“Aircraft?”
“No.”
The twins exchanged glances.
Then the swordsman answered quietly.
“Falling objects.”
Einar became still.
Outside the tower windows
lightning flashed across distant storm clouds.
The vampire child slowly stood from his seat.
Frost immediately crawled farther across the black steel floor.
General Winter noticed the shift in his expression.
And that unsettled him more than any battlefield ever had.
“You recognize this?”
Einar walked slowly toward the window overlooking the massive city below.
For the first time that evening
the ancient being looked uncertain.
“No,” Einar admitted quietly.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the storm.
Then
far above the clouds
something burned across the heavens.
A streak of crimson fire.
Then another.
And another.
Three total.
Like falling stars descending toward the United Wasteland.
General Winter’s cybernetic eye immediately brightened.
“Impact trajectories?”
The twin with the pistols activated a holographic tactical display.
Three flashing red markers appeared.
One near the outer military districts.
One approaching the capital itself.
And one
far beyond the eastern industrial cities.
General Winter’s expression hardened instantly.
“Mobilize the Iron Oath.”
Alarms began echoing faintly throughout the tower.
Far below, the capital city started reacting.
Defense cannons rotated skyward.
Aircraft launched from armored hangars.
Emergency sirens awakened the night.
The three burning objects continued descending through the atmosphere.
Too controlled to be meteors.
Too deliberate to be accidents.
Einar stared upward silently.
His pale expression unreadable.
Then quietly
almost to himself
he whispered:
“They’re here.”
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