Frost gradually made his way towards the money pit where Borris' shop was located.
Many soldiers, adventurers and citizens respectively nodded his way as he passed, grateful for his aid during the war. Peace and regular life was swiftly returning to the large town. Smiles, occasional laughter and bright expressions were abundant through his eyes.
Of course there was also the strictness of the reinforcing soldiers, the still lingering scent of blood and iron as well as those who were not so joyful. Those who lost dear ones in the war and or suffered devasting injuries, leaving them broken and crippled. The orphanages gained more than a few more members by the end, painting both the good and bad images of the war.
However now that Adam was no longer in control of the territory Cassandra and Douglas made damn sure that their hopes and dreams for the territory were put back on track. The orphanages in particular were sanctuaries full of life and love. Children who lost their guardians would be nurtured with great love and care within their walls.
The only want they'd have would be for parents, a wish that was more often than not granted in the Furano territory. Those who were unfortunate enough to not be adopted however would not lack in any way. The orphanage would raise and educate them to the same level as any other child with parents and the businesses in the territory would open their doors to them without prejudice.
Frost witnessed several crying children being encased in the arms of a sister from the orphanage, his heart strings tugging as the image brought to mind Loki and Nanna.
In another instance he saw a man who had barely any light left in his eyes staring dead ahead. A bowl of soup was on the table before him yet he could not eat it as he was without arms. His wife or close family member sat by his side doing her best to encourage his will to live.
Where there was joy, celebration and even eagerness there was also loss, pain and despair.
"Haaaaaaa, hopefully time will heal their wounds." Frost sighed and muttered under his breath as he looked away from the listless man. Seeing him brought up the memories of those who died in the war, Halgrave, Bagua and so many others.
Thankfully the reinforcements arrived early otherwise the death toll would have been so much higher. His gaze turned towards the northern wall. There the reinforcements stood watch, guarding the town from any fractured waves. The crown prince, General Warik and General Anya were all there to give a sense of solidarity and invincibility to the ones sheltering behind the wall.
Frost thought for sure that the crown prince would be staying in the Furano mansion given that he was the prince of the empire, and they were the ruling lords of the territory but instead he chose to rest with his soldiers at the barracks. Of course his quarters were far more luxurious given his status, but it helped build up his image among the populace.
Something he needed to do to further his agenda. His activities during the final battle were rather lacklustre in comparison to the generals and Frost who was praised as the ultimate hero of the war. He needed to do all he could to garner support.
Though Frost saw through the man's intentions he didn't think ill of him in fact he supported the prince's decision as it meant that he didn't have to deal with him back in the manor. Regardless however he was grateful for the prince's swift arrival.
Frost started to get rather peckish as he walked so he first visited a restaurant on the way to Borris' store. Nothing fancy like the phoenix fledgling restaurant but tasty none the less. He paid less than 3 silvers to fill his stomach and put a satisfied smile on his face. The act of visiting a recently reopened restaurant that was filled with enthusiasm after a hard worn war calmed his heart.
He was almost forced use it on a few occasions but none of them even remotely compared to his current threat. Thankfully it seemed as though the one who attacked him didn't think he was much of a threat as he didn't immediately chase after him when his ambush failed, a very big mistake on his part.
The assassin who attacked Frost stood in the street garbed in black robes. A gnarly looking dagger was in the person's right hand. They were inspecting the tip with a questioning look in their eyes -the only part of their face that was revealed.
"How peculiar, my reaping dagger not only failed to pierce him he even sensed me and moved to protect himself...no wonder he wants rid of him." The assassin had a male voice that was grating to the ears and elicited a fearful chill to those who heard it. He was surprised at his initial failure but didn't dwell too much on the problem as Frost was too weak to be of any sort of threat.
"Shame you have to suffer, I prefer killing my victims with a single blow, less painful that way and far easier to clean up." The assassin looked at the trembling Frost with pity before twirling his dagger and becoming like a shadow.
"You can blame your own talent for your pain." After saying his final words the assassin prepared for his next killing blow, Frost would not be able to avoid it this time.
"Hmph! And you can blame your ignorance for yours!" Frost roared back as he tore apart the talisman in his hands, causing a burst of powerful energy to escape and warp the space before him.
The assassin halted in place as he felt an immeasurable pressure from the talisman.
'What the hell is that!' He roared internally as fear filled his heart. 'Afraid me?' He questioned his own instincts before fury took hold of him, angered by his own reaction. He wantonly ignored the sense of danger and unknown power emanating from the torn talisman and restarted his attack. Whatever it was, taking out Frost first seemed like a safe bet.
The assassin once again turned into a shadow and moved towards Frost with his dagger aimed at his throat, his speed at the very limits of Frost's perception. The sense of death once again filled Frost's heart and his body felt as though it was wrapped in ethereal chains preventing even the slightest movement.
The assassin, no longer taking any chances used his aura to pin him in place, shame it was too late.
As the gnarly dagger come upon Frost's neck a dainty white hand stretched out from the void and grabbed it, holding it in place like a vice. The assassin didn't even have enough time to react before the weak looking hand tensed into a fist and shattered his prized dagger as if it was harmless scrap.
The next moment he felt a pair of eyes lock onto him from the warped space, large, imposing and full of unbridled wrath.
The white hand proceeded to slam into his chest causing a horrible crunching sound to fill the air before he was smashed against the ground, leaving a deep trail in his wake. His armour was practically dissolved and his rib cage was inundated with cracks. His heart was even ruptured in multiple places. If he didn't take a high level potion or reach a skilled healer soon he'd be dead.
A level of fear he couldn't even comprehend wrapped around his body as the owner of the white hand stepped out of the void, revealing herself to the world.