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Ah, yes. The first chapter of the Frontier prequel no one asked for. I'm exited, I think this'll come out good.

Alright... In the distant past, Atreia was in the clutches of a long, bloody race war between the three dominant sub-species of Atriean. In the town of Frostblight, the canines live and work under the rule of the felines, producing weapons for their army. The Regent is nice enough, but he is recalled to the capitol, and a new Regent takes over...

---

The valley was always bathed in shadow early in the afternoon, the village of Frostblight descending into darkness hours earlier than the rest of the continent. Even through the earlier nights, the ever prevalent bang of hammers could be heard well into the night. Frostblight, however small and nestled away, was famed for the finest weaponry around, thanks to the high standard the head blacksmith held for his iron and workers. Many knew of this place, and its strategic significance in the war. This is why the fort was erected. It sat on the top of one of the valley’s slopes, squat and wide, housing an entire feline garrison. The Regent looked over the valley from the top of the tower, watching as it once again was cast into shadows. He felt as any other feline in the building felt about the canines toiling below. A sense of superiority. Perhaps that was why the fort was built above the valley, so the suns could shine on it a whole couple hours more, once again solidifying the feline’s mindset. A small fennec fox hurried in and bowed to the regent. He wore clothes made of a type of cloth woven from a vine-like plant. It had the texture of burlap and was very cheap to produce. “Regent, Zhoe has arrived.”
In stark contrast to the fennec’s clothes, the Regent wore leather harvested from great laxarr beasts that roamed the ice plains. Furnished with many insect shells, it looked very stunning. He turned around and waved his paw, the fennec standing up. “Let me give you a word of advice.”
He motioned to a table, and the fennec sat without hesitation. The Regent sat too, his long, snow leopard tail flowing across the floor. “You know you are my favorite servant, correct?”
“Yes, Regent.”
He sighed and looked out once again over the snow covered hills and rooftops. “I am aware this place is hell to you. Cold all the time, and without proper insulation, I see you shiver most nights.”
The fennec, as if on que, shivered as an icy wind blew through the open rooftop. “Y-yes Regent. I long for the sands of Gontha.”
“The new Regent of Frostblight is a bitter man. He hates your kind with a burning passion, and won’t hesitate to use any weakness as an angle for some sick game. Do not shiver.”
The fennec nodded. “Bring Zhoe in, then. I will formally give up my post to him.”
The fennec stood and hurried off the cold rooftop. Soon a lion strode up the stairs, wearing clothes that somehow looked more impressive than the Regent’s. “Ah! Lar! My good friend. How has life been treating you?”
“Well enough, Zhoe. This place has been the least eventful assignment I’ve ever had.”
Zhoe sat down at the table and began devouring the roasted insect carcass that lay there. “Mmmf… Finely prepared…”
He slurped down some wine and looked at the Regent, grinning. “You always liked peace, Lar. Of course they’d put you in charge here. Well, it seems they don’t like peaceful: you aren’t producing enough weapons. We need more swords, Lar! You can’t make them by petting your way through a rule; you need to bring out your claws.”
He stabbed a piece of meat with his claw and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m going to change things here. I noticed you don’t keep many slaves. No leverage! I also noticed there are no concubines in the fort. They make the best… incentive to work. I know some of the blacksmiths have quite lovely daughters… for canines.”
“I have little time for that. Besides-”
“Besides nothing! We need results, not kindness! I will be turning out twice the output you had.”
Zhoe leaned forward. “We must. The fourth army just fell at Kitmar. Those dogs are moving very close to here. We’ve set up a defense, but they’re battle weary, and low on supplies. We need weapons!”
Lar sighed. “Do what you must. I give up my position to you, Zhoe. I will depart in a few days for the capitol.”
“Have you pushing papers, eh?”
“Something like that.”
Lar stood, bowed, and took his leave. Zhoe grinned and stalked towards the edge of the roof. He gazed over the shadows that he now controlled. “This is going to be… fun.”

~~~

Marten brought the hammer down again. He yelped as a spark landed on his nose. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The other blacksmiths hammered away at the circle, each with their own blade to work on. The smithy was very large, with a long, flat iron surface for all six blacksmiths to simultaneously work. A huge pit nearby held a natural lava fountain that supplied the heat necessary to fold the iron, and buckets of water were set out in convenient spots. A fox who was working next to him nudged his arm. “Hey. Don’t stop. Fray is nearby.”
Marten looked behind him at the tiger prowling in the background, watching over his blacksmiths as they worked. Marten wiped his brow and returned to hammering. He was a wolf, average height but very well built from his work as a blacksmith. His fur was black as night all over, and his eyes were a piercing grey. His paws were hard and calloused, and his tail was disfigured, burned off until about halfway up from an accident. He looked at the blade, satisfied it was adequately worked, he used a pair of tongs to grab it and carry it over to a bucket of water. He placed it inside and stood back as the steam rose, burning his arms slightly. He laid out the blade and looked at it. “Hmm…”
The head blacksmith peered over his shoulder and patted him on the back. “Good work, Marten! Another fine blade.”
“I’m not satisfied with this edge, Fray, it might need a couple more folds.”
Fray sighed. “It looks decent to me… you demand too much perfection from yourself.”
Marten sighed and placed the blade on a cloth, folding the cloth in half and placing it in a rack to be fitted with a hilt. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Haha! You’re too good for this place. Maybe the new Regent will recommend you to the capitol blacksmith’s guild.”
“I doubt a wolf could work there.”
Fray sighed and shook his head. “Alas, you are right. No matter, that was the last blade for tonight, go home, Marten.”
He threw his apron onto a hook and nodded, joining the trickle of other workers finishing their tasks. “See you tomorrow, Fray.”
“Aye. Tell Myri she looks lovely today.”
Marten chuckled. “She didn’t even visit! And you’ve been here all day, how could you possibly know she looks lovely?”
Fray pushed him out the door good naturedly. “She looks lovely every day.”
“Yes, well, you’re right.”
Marten pulled on his boots and walked out across the snow, waving once to Fray as he chuckled to himself. His house was only a short walk from the smithy. On the walk home, he wondered what the new Regent would be like. Despite the fact that the town was practically a work camp, they were fed well enough and weren’t mistreated, thanks to the kind nature of the Regent Lar. He hoped the new Regent would be nothing like the stories her heard from the west. He pushed open the door to his small abode, shutting it against the cold wind as he spoke. “Myri, how did it…”
He looked around at the empty house. He sighed and grabbed a couple of sparking rocks, starting a fire in the makeshift hearth. “She’s probably chatting with Helen and Troy. I’m starting to think weaving is less the thread and more the chatter.”
Soon he had a soup boiling on the fire, and he sat down at the table, reaching down into a chest he kept all his belongings in. He rummaged around, pushing aside bark parchment, writing twigs and other baubles until his paw hit a sword. He chuckled and took it out. It was one of the same swords made for the feline armies, curved, single edged and heavy, the brass hilt was small and fitted for feline paws. He drew it from its plain wooden scabbard and held it. It was heavy, and bit into his paw slightly. He shook his head at the baffling design of the sword. Meant for slashing, it had no counterweight and was very poorly balanced, meant primarily for beast riders. He heard the door open, and he quickly put the sword back into the chest. If one of the felines caught him with it, he would be punished. To his relief, it was Myri. She was bubbling about something or other as she hurried over and kissed his cheek. “Father! I made possibly the warmest blanket today, Troy tried it on, and had to take it off because she said she was too hot!”
“Good job, Myri. Though you should have been home a half hour ago, what was it this time?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just walking home and a sugar mole ran up to me and…”
He smiled and listened to her story as she unlaced her boots. She was tall for a canine, a mix of wolf and fox, with dark reddish fur and a fluffy tail for her wolf-like features. She was indeed, very lovely, her features and physique were well proportioned, and Marten was very proud of her. “That’s nice, Myri.”
“Oh, you weren’t listening, father!”
“Sorry. Fray says you look lovely today, what do you want me to tell him?”
She scoffed and sat down in front of the fire, careful not to get her homemade dress too close to it. “Tell him I think he can’t make a blade straight but an acefly can.”
Marten laughed. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? How’s the soup coming?”
“It’s almost ready. It’s not too harsh, he thinks I’m exotic. He likes exotic things, did you notice?”
“Oh, I have. Strange for a feline.”
“Well, if he thinks he’s going to add me to his collection, he’s going to get some exotic mud, straight to his face!”
They laughed, and Myri tasted the soup. “Hmm… Needs more salt. Grab the bowls.”
Marten tapped himself on the head. “Yes! That’s what I was getting out of the chest. Hang on a second…”
He continued rummaging, until he found two wooden bowls. He tossed one to Myri and she scooped up a portion of soup, sipping it right from the bowl. “When are we going to get spoons?”
Marten leaned over and acquired his own portion, grinning. “Do we really need them?”
Myri sighed in frustration as a chunk of meat fell from the bowl as she was drinking. “Yes!”
“Alright! I’ll fashion some tomorrow before I go to the smithy.”
“Thanks.”
After they had finished their soup, Marten cleaned up the bowls and Myri continued sitting by the fire, reading one of their only books. He sighed, smiling slightly. “I love you, my daughter.”
“Oh, I know, father. I love you too.”
Marten was no longer in his prime, and soon the gentle crackle of the fire, it’s warmth, and the sight of the one thing he cherished the most sitting by the fire reading contently lulled him to sleep.
Marten always had very grand dreams. The only problem was he could never remember what they were by the time he awoke, only the feeling remaining. That morning he awoke feeling very strange. Perhaps it was the fact he was waking up in his chair and not his bed, or perhaps it was an omen, he didn’t know. He stood, stretched, and grabbed some cold soup for breakfast. ‘Myri must have gone.’ He thought to himself.
He grabbed a cob of wood and a knife, and began to whittle it into a spoon.

~~~

Myri strolled through the town, glad for her fur on the cold winter morning. Atriea was almost always shrouded in winter, due to some cosmic coincidence. Only the equator had deserts, and the only two seasons were winter and spring. As she approached the market, where she would acquire her and Marten’s daily allotment of food, she noticed something was going on. A crowd had gathered, and a few feline soldiers could be seen standing around. She joined the crowd, not knowing what was going on. Through the crowd, she could see a lion in fine clothes watching the crowd. She growled to herself. It was the new Regent. One of his higher ranking officers stepped forward and announced to the crowd. “Canines of Frostblight! Gaze upon the majesty of your new Regent!”
There was mumbling from the crowd, and Myri scoffed, turning around to return home in spite of Zhoe. One of the guards stopped her from leaving the area. “Where do you think you’re going? Oooh, the Regent’ll want you for sure…”
She glared at him in defiance. “What are you going on about? Let me by!”
“Get back in the circle!”
He pushed her back into the crowd, just as the Regent passed her by. He stopped, looked at her, and addressed the crowd. “Why are you all here? Does it say something, that fact? It does. It tells us who’s clearly superior. Just as Laroja decrees, nature accepts and makes reality. Down with Drifrasa!”
There was surprisingly little backlash from the crowd. They had heard it all before. He looked around at the hardened, downcast faces of the assembly and chuckled. “I am not like Lar. He was weak, and didn’t treat you properly. I will treat you as you should be treated. When I say work, you work. When I say die, you die. And when I say please me…”
He caressed Myri’s chin, and she almost bit his finger off, but resisted the urge. “… You will please me.”
Once again he looked out at the crowd, this time pointing at some of the canines. “Him, him, her, him, her, her and… her.”
He indicated Myri last, and took her arm. “I have heard the rumors, and would like to test them on you…”
Soldiers came up from behind the crowd and took the indicated individuals away. Some people cried out as their loved one’s were taken away, but most of the crowd averted their eyes and tried to ignore what was happening. Most looked at Myri with pity as she struggled against the Regent’s grasp. “Hey! I’m the daughter of a blacksmith! You can’t do this! Let me go you fat worm- AHHH!”
The crowd gave a collective flinch as Zhoe raked his claws across her arm, tearing some of her dress and flesh. He pulled her close to his face, holding her by the neck. “Do not speak to me. That is not your purpose.”
She glared at him with hate filled eyes, so full of fire he had to look away and loosen his grip. He watched as members of the crowd were brought forth.

~~~

Marten put the finishing touches on the spoon, admiring it in the light from the window. As he was, someone ran by, looking very distraught. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He ran out of the hut and ran after the person, recognizing them as Troy’s mother. “Tojenka! What’s going on?”
“Marten! Oh, God, they’re taking Troy away!” She sobbed.
Being the faster runner, he ran past her towards the market, noticing the crowd. Myri was there. He pushed through the crowds, and burst out into the buffer zone between the people and the Regent’s men. He glanced around at the scene, seeing his beloved daughter being held by the Regent and lunging towards him without a second thought. “You son of a-”
Two soldiers grabbed him, but not before he got a claw around the Regent’s arm. So savage was his grip, Zhoe gasped and yelled out in pain as Marten’s claws dug into him, and he felt the blood being squeezed out of his arm, capillaries bursting from the vice like grip. “AHH! Get him off me! Get him off me!”
Marten’s face was like the vary thing he worked with every day. The soldiers tore him from the Regent’s arm, bits of fur and a tattered bloody rag sticking to Marten’s claws. The Regent quickly made his retreat, Myri having the good sense Marten didn’t have at that moment and not attempting an escape. “Rrrg… Take him to his hut and lock him there… I need him working tomorrow. Bring the rest to the pen, give them more fitting clothes. Not those two. Put them in the guest chamber, under guard.”
He indicated Myri and Troy, who was a lightly colored fox. They hurried off towards the fort, Zhoe’s herald fussing over his arm. Marten wrestled with the two felines, managing to break free momentarily and run towards the retreating Regent. “Don’t you touch her! You hear me!? YOU WILL SUFFER!”
He felt a crack over his head as the spear butt of one of the soldiers slammed into him. As he lost consciousness , he saw Myri one last time, calling out to him. “Father! I’ll be fine!”
“Myri…”
“Shut up, you dog! Come on, let’s drag him to his hut…”

~~~

Myri and Troy were brought to the well decorated room and left there. The two sat on the bench in the middle of the room, Troy weeping bitterly. Myri hugged and comforted her. “Don’t cry, Troy. You don’t know my father. Once his blind anger subsides, there isn’t a thing on heaven or Atriea that can stop him from finding us.”
Although Myri embellished the entire sentence, it seemed to calm Troy enough to speak. “Oh, Myri… What will Halen think? He’ll be heartbroken…” She broke out in sobs again.
“Shh… Shh…”
“W-what will they do to us?” She asked, looking up into Myri’s face.
Myri gulped. “I don’t know.”
Troy buried her face in Myri’s arm and continued crying. Myri knew exactly why they were there, but knew that Troy wouldn’t react well to it. She unconsciously tightened her grip around Troy as she thought about her captors. What kind of a teaching encourages this kind of behavior? They were interrupted when Zhoe himself walked into the room. He pointed to Troy. “What is your name?”
“T-Troy…”
He motioned for her to stand. Both her and Myri did. A small servant was standing next to him, the fennec had somehow been partially shaved, and he stared shamefully down onto the stone floor as the Regent stepped into the room. “Troy. Follow Redrick to the kitchens. There is work to be done.”
She stood stock still, and only moved because Redrick beckoned slightly, with a look of warning on his face. “This way, please.”
Troy glanced back at Myri as she disappeared around the corner. The Regent stepped up to her and sighed. “Look at that. Your dress it all ripped. Bring in a new one!”
Two servants whisked in a rather plain looking dress. It was still leaps and bounds better looking and made than her current garment, and her eyes widened at the sight of it. “Put it on.”
The servants left as fast as they had come in, but no one else in the room moved. Myri spoke with a voice dripping with contempt. “I like my dress.”
The Regent stepped closer and grabbed her by the clothes she was wearing. He ripped the front right off in one motion and sneered. “I insist.”
Myri quickly spun around and growled. “You beast!”
“Careful. I’ll let you decide which dress is preferable. Either way suits you just fine.”
He swept out of the room, chuckling to himself. Myri examined her now completely ruined dress, and looked at the new dress in the room. She determined it was better than being half naked, even if the Regent wanted her to wear it. She shuttered at the thought of him, and what he might do to her as she quickly changed into the dress.
Later that day, the Regent sat in his room, writing furiously with an ink spattered twig. Endless orders for more weapons came to him daily, and he had to give the limited supply he had away to the neediest. He sighed and put the twig down, calling to his aid. “Redrick! I’ve changed my mind about that traitorous blacksmith. I’m in a bad mood, and I need cheering up, and I have just the thing for it…”

~~~

Marten paced the room faster and faster each time he completed a circuit. The place was completely destroyed. Furniture and wall hangings were torn down, the contents of his chest was strew across the ground, and most of them had received a kick from his angry cyclone of pacing. His mind raced with images of the Regent, doing terrible things to his daughter, and he kicked another item across the room, growling. He longed to have his hands around that fat neck of his… A soft voice interrupted him. “Marten. Marten, it’s me, Fray.”
He frowned. The guards at his door wouldn’t allow any visitors. “Fray? How did you…”
The door came unlocked and Fray stepped through, closing it quickly behind him under the sound of snoring soldiers. They spoke in hushed tones. “They’re going to execute you at dawn, you need to leave, now!”
“What? I’m not leaving Myri! They’re going to rape her!”
“You can’t stay here, Marten. Run, save yourself! It’s too late for Myri-”
“No! Why would you say something like that?! This is my Myri we’re talking about!”
“They’ll kill you! Run!”
He saw the urgency in Fray’s face, and didn’t doubt what he was saying. He sat down and clutched his head, sobbing. “Oh, why have you done this, Drifrasa?!”
He sat there for a few minutes, then looked up at Fray. “I’m coming back.”
Fray simply nodded, knowing it was true. Marten rummaged through what was on the floor from his chest, throwing on a cloak Myri had made for him and strapping the rider’s sword to his belt. Fray pushed a parcel into his paws. “Food for three days. Go over the east hill, and flee. You might be able to reach the canine army advancing this way if you keep hidden.”
Marten stuffed the parcel into his cloak pocket, clasped Fray’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I wish more felines could be like you, Fray. If you can… Make sure Myri stays safe.”
“I will. Now, fly!”
Marten dashed past the dozing guards and ran towards the east hill, looking at the sun as it rose over the mountain and shone into the valley. The snow flew from his paws as he scrambled up the valley, laying low as he reached the top, the view giving way to endless spiraling treetops. He looked back at the fort. “I will return, Myri.”

~~~

Myri looked out at the east hill, a pit of fear in her stomach. “Father…”