PUBLIC APOLOGY
Before anything else, to those who have been expecting further updates regarding my first novel, By Ice Be Shattered, I would like to ask for your deepest considerations for failing to post the succeeding parts. It is due to some personal pursuits that I urgently need to consider, in addition to my very hectic collegiate schedule. Also, as I browse the rest of its content, it's very disappointing to note that I have posted a product of rushed creativity for any valid reasons of my own, making it a total breakdown on my perspective.
In the mean time, I will no longer be posting new chapters of "By Ice Be Shattered" until such time I figured out what to do with it. From this day and beyond, my attention would be now focusing on a new work of fiction and hopefully I will be able to place my fullest concentration in building and improving my work so please do not hesitate to leave your reviews. It greatly helps build up my progression not only as a writer, but also as a student.
Thanks a lot and I do wish you'd be able to bear with my current condition. Have a blessed day ahead everyone.
FOREWORDS
This is a complete remake of "By Ice Be Shattered"; not a different story and most likely, not a sequel.
There will be apparent modifications regarding the names of the OC's and the story line. However, neither of the plot, the conclusion nor your prospects (if you were on track since the first tale) will be adjusted, meaning that the author would strictly stick to the supposed scheme of "By Ice Be Shattered". I do not require the viewers to read my previous work before proceeding to this story, but for some who were curious about the fact of posting a total remake, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. Feel free to examine its contents since I do not have the control over the reader's minds.
And now, without further ado, I proudly present Frozen: Scorched Earth and Shattered Ice.
DISCLAIMER
Only Disney is the rightful owner of Frozen…
The illusion we see is just the veil what should actually be seen…
The Norwegian heavens glowed orange, tinting a bit of blood red in the twilight hue, as the great sphere made its majestic decent toward the western horizon, submerging the entire lands under its remarkable golden rays. A small visible patch of spreading darkness emerged far from beyond the eastern coasts of kingdom, more like a black fog that devoured everything it touched as it stretched along the blank floating spaces. The first of the glittering crystals appeared on the clear skies, adding faint illuminations on the gloomy sheets that hover upon the soon to be sleeping kingdom of Solberg.
Nightfall didn't always signify the turning point of every positive, at other instances, miserable chapters on life of the common townsfolk. But then, witnessing the peaceful shades drifting across the evergreen mountain ranges made it possible for most of the citizens to finally put leisure to the exhaustion they are currently having. As far as they're concerned, bed rest might be the best option after all.
For practical reasons or whatsoever, Solberg has long been considered as a precarious orb resting along the coastal boarders of Norway. The dim moonlight made it glimmer alongside the scattered brightness of a thousand sparkling diamonds that hung freely over the night sky, reflected by the crystal clear waters of the fjord. Together with the cool Scandinavian wind howling from the northern seas, the Solbergian lands seemed to have revealed its picture of utmost simplicity and tranquility from a distance.
Several structures burned, collapsed upon the brick stone walkways like useless paper, thrashed and crumpled on a study desk, unworthy of being reused. Other edifices, if not fallen, were inscribed with soot and burn marks along its walls as if a storm of whirling flames had struck the place, leaving only few traces of sturdy built foundations sitting uncharcoaled in place. Most of the residents fled, casted themselves upon the distant highlands far from the premises of the town square, hoping to find a better place to dwell on, far from chaos and, above all, insanity.
A pair of guards approached the spot beholding much of the crumbled structures; they were on patrol for suspicious personnel roaming within the shades beyond appointed curfew hours. The first sight of ruins gaped them in awe as if they were pretty oblivious to turbulence that took place.
Well, actually, they were.
"Whoa! Look at this mess Bob," the younger one exclaimed; a look of mixed confusion and amazement crept up his face. "What d'ya think caused this disaster?"
"I don't know," the other replied, not showing the merest interest on the issue albeit he had little details of what took place earlier. It's just a matter of multiple explanations when a proper response was given to the newly recruited member of the security council. He chose to remain silent.
"How many you casualties ya think?"
"I don't know."
The lad's still young, possibly seventeen to nineteen years of age. He was smart, eager to learn by throwing a million questions at a single given topic, yet, he still possesses the ideal description of innocence-a trait that Bob hoped to remain.
"D'ya think that this would be the last of it?
"I don't know."
"Ooo...k. Whattaya say 'bout this, how 'bout ought ourselves outta this crazed lunacy and look for some other good place to stay? Huh? Huh? You better say somethin' 'bout this cause I'm runnin' out of words for corn's sake!"
"I don't know," Bob replied, shrugging his broad shoulders.
"Oh, for crying out loud! Come on Bob. Stay with me!" the youngster said as he grew practically impatient toward the older man's response. "Can't you say anything besides 'I dunno'?"
Bob twisted his head, stared at the young guard with narrowing eyes and wrinkling forehead. He turned back and took a deep sigh before uttering one last statement to his comrade...
"I don't know."
There was no light left to ease the blackness that enveloped the hallways, save for the soft lunar glow penetrating through a few uncleaned glass panes, scattering along the polished floors to create a mild gleaming effect on the dark corridor.
A man with fair gray hair lowered himself upon the remaining turns of the dark hall, taking heavy footsteps that were quite audible in shades. His forehead was relieved from dryness, plastering some the ash-colored locks that barely kissed his thin brows. Though he had pulled his naval coat off, the black undershirt he wore succeeded in generating a perturb sensation to go with the depleted state he is having. It felt like glue, sticking on every spot of his muscular torso. But he ignored it- completely subsiding the entire thought to comply with the agenda he is tasked to accomplish.
The near ends of the hallway was pitch black, reasoned by the failure of the moonlight to extend up to the last few edges, constraining the formation of any clear and subtle visuals of the path ahead.
He halted his pace, opted to forge a mental image instead of using the designated torch sticks poking on the cold walls. He continued walking.
In front of his eyes, a grand doorway lay undisturbed at the end of the corridor. A soft glowing sigil of fire painted in blue, red and orange was contained on the center of the double wooden panels that made the barrier between him and the presence inside. The man pulled a short piece of lean cloth from the pocket of his trousers and wiped the wetness off his exhausted pale face, sending small puffs of his breath to leave his lips as he took a deep sigh with every stroke of the cloth along his forehead. Finally, he stood up unmoving on his position, ready to address the important person residing within the chamber. Again, he took a deep sigh before letting his numb knuckles meet the wooden barrier.
The room was also dark, faintly illuminated by a small chandelier swaying from the ceiling above. The windows were widely opened, allowing much of the cold night air to pierce through every corner, yet it didn't cause the temperature to drop even a few degrees; it was still hot inside, precisely hotter than the hallway. On the balcony, few feet from the entrance, a black feminine silhouette stood, facing the crystal clear waters that glitter under the dull moonlight. Her pale red locks were neatly compressed in a single braid that hung loosely on her left shoulder. The train of her yellow sparkling outfit danced alongside the slow breathing of nature, like a flame.
"My Queen," he curtsied. "You summoned me. Is there something wrong?"
She remained on her position, eyes fixed on the unfrozen fjord and feet firmly planted on the marble flooring. Though she heard the familiar voice, silence was her response.
"Your Majesty..."
"Updates Marqus! I need updates!" her voice echoed throughout the room like thunder. It brought a clear feedback to Marqus, causing him to reach for a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Absolutely My Queen," Marqus said while unfolding the parchment. "May I ask which one?"
She faced the gray haired man with eyes shining in blood red hue. Her hair was aflame, glowing a hundred times brighter than the chandelier could emit. Temperature began to rise.
"What do you mean 'which one'," her face seemed blank. "I have assigned you several tasks since daylight and you are obliged to present me ample updates regarding the progress of each by the time night falls. I wanted every detail of your report muttered out loud in front of me every time I called for your presence. Am I making sense out of me Admiral?"
"Yes. Yes Your Majesty. I apolo..."
"I don't need your apologies! I want your report," she demanded.
"Yes My Queen," Marq uttered between sets of clattering teeth and shaking limbs. More perspiration came rushing down his entire features.
"First of all, we have the figures from the rebellion this late afternoon," Marq began as he tried to look dignified in front of the Queen. "At most three of them were counted as casualties. Six were injured in which two are of in serious concerns. They're now in the infirmary, being prepped for the interrogation I assigned this morning if they ever awake. Though they have the chance of survival, it's their decision to either cooperate with us or breathe their last," he paused. "The remaining four will be sent in the dungeons along with four others and will be considered as hostiles. In the mean time, we will be waiting for your word to execute them..."
"No," the Queen butted in the midst of her attentive listening. "Let them be. They might be useful on some other parts of the plan. Continue."
"It is noted. Continuing, half of the market place was totally damaged..."
"Hold it right there Admiral Marqus. You do not need to fully emphasize that portion since I am the one responsible for its downfall. Now, if it is of any concern in you, I, myself, will do the assessment on that area and decide whether to re-establish the lost half or construct a secondary stronghold. But I am still making thoughts on the first one since there are still people here."
"You might need my men for assistance then."
"No need for a battalion to come. Just present me two of your big men and I will be starting by daybreak. By the way, I've noticed that the small group you sent was out gone for almost two weeks. Any news about them so far?"
Marq stood frozen, half expecting the topic to come up so soon. His heart came pounding a thousand beats a minute. His breath tightened as if being chocked by an unseen force. He couldn't feel his trembling legs.
"Well?"
The admiral gathered all his remaining composure as he searched his abyss of thoughts for the correct word to mumble. In its broadest sense, there was absolutely no appropriate excuse to let go. However, he had managed to let a few words escape his numb lips.
"I've just received a word earlier," Marq replied as he pressed his lips, forming a thin red line. "An alliance from the Southern Isles told me that they never reached the kingdom."
"What do you mean 'they never reached the kingdom'?" the young monarch asked as her rage, once more, started to pile up, reflected by the sudden shifting of the room's condition. "You told me that you sent five of your best men to put that kingdom under 24/7 surveillance, yet here you are, reporting me that they haven't set a foot on its shorelines? That land didn't even had an idea on what is going on in this place, unless..."
"No! No Your Majesty! I assure you that no one except the two of us has the clear vision of what will happen before long."
"Then explain this nonsense!"
A fresh stream of sweat oozed from behind his back, instantly setting his shirt, again, into wetness. The Solbergian admiral inched himself toward the slightly closed door facing his back. His mind flashed a million pictures, seeing himself toasted into gray ashes, gently being lift up by the breeze toward the infinite horizon. He knew well of not making unreasonable excuses for it may intensify the queen's outburst and he is not in good shape to witness such upheaval. If ever things began to get out of hand, the door will be his only passage in case he bolts out.
"Storms!" he exclaimed.
"What?"
"While sailing northwest from the docks of Southern Isles, a rogue storm occurred a few miles before they set anchor on that kingdom's harbor. It so happen that it came to them by surprise, meeting them unimpervious at sea."
"Are you certain about your accounts admiral?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. The room's temperature began to cool down a bit. It was a good sign.
"No... I mean Yes! Yes I'm sure. It was my good friend from the Southern Isles who told me about the incident. And believe me Your Majesty, he still acquires outside infos even though he's in jail!"
"Then how sure are you that your little 'jailbird' is worthy enough to be accredited of our trust?"
Marq smirked, concealing a sinister laughter from inside.
"He wants to take his sweet revenge on that land's queen and sibling," Marq explained. "He also believes that negotiating with us might help him earn a crown on his head and a seat on the throne."
"What's his name?" the Queen once again asked, showing a slight pang of interest in the man's background.
"Oh. I'm sorry my Queen," Marq apologized mockingly. "He demands to keep his identity hidden until he sees the right opportunity to become recognized. But, I do know one thing about him as mentioned by a few rumors," he finished.
"And what is that?"
Admiral Marqus chuckled, as if another plan went maneuvering his own train of thought. He exhaled in relief as he held his response toward the Queen's interrogation.
"He is now disgraced..."
A few more errands were to be prepared by the Queen of Solberg before daylight breaks the nocturnal silence. Though she preferred not to get over-stressed by the worst conditions she ought to handle, it's barely possible to drift into slumber without even upsetting the possibilities that your subjects failed to carry out the prerequisites before putting the main plot at work. Mentioning it into simpler senses, she's stuck at a heap of duties.
She had awoken herself up few more hours before dawn. Her red eyes were set frozen on a neat piece of parchment lying on the oak desk. It was a note, dedicated to one of their remaining alliances considering for some minor provisions for the reconstruction of the marketplace. Affixing the royal seal and the signature of her trained penmanship marked the end of her first morning responsibility. At first thought, she was free, not until her mind evoked the one-on-one conference she held with the newly appointed admiral, Marqus Donwell, notifying him of her plans for the scorched lands within the kingdom's bounds. Of course, how could she forget inspecting the place. After all, her mind had been already set for the needed repairs.
She rose from her seat, letting the soles of her orange high-heeled slipper lead her to the opened oriel by the balcony. From where she stood, the image of the soft ginger glow was viewed slowly shedding the black heavens and hiding the blinking crystals of the night. It was still dark though, yet, it pictured the absolute beauty that Solberg has to offer; it was enough to permit minimal easiness to her inundated mind.
The room shone bright as she held her palms wide open with such considerable distance from her face. She allowed a flickering flame to aloft, halting in midair just above her locks. A single spin of her head caught the sight of an unfinished board game resting on a small counter in the corner of the chamber. But what actually got her fullest attention was a single piece that clearly reflected her orange flame in pure white light. As she lessen the gap between her and the game, it became vivid that the piece that her mental perspective was referring to was a transparent glass queen from the opposing side.
It took her time to completely register that it was the chess game she had been engaged with a passing chamberlain earlier yesterday. Her mind was focused on the resting board, trying to delve everything in retrospect. Much for her dismay, thick hazy clouds of dutiful notions succeeded in concealing her shallow thoughts; one of which includes the game.
For as long as she could recall, she was technically on the winning side. Having two surviving bishops, a rook and queen was so far the advantage of the red tinted glass pieces over the transparent ones. But, as some of her blurred memory clarifies, the sense of putting on a victory was far from possible as the opponent deliberately takes most of her significant elements as captives and simultaneously regaining its most powerful piece: the queen.
The young monarch stared blankly at the unfinished board game, assuming of any possible blunders to take back the momentum or just play a possible draw. With the red queen caged between a pair of nights, threatened by a diagonal column consisting of pawns, a bishop and the king, her chances are slim, thus, accepting defeat to the male chamberlain. She had to admit, he won not because of a few good remaining chess pieces but rather because of his dedication to win at all costs, even if that means conquering against a losing battle. Indeed, he was good.
She wore a grin, not because of unexpected outcome but rather of sudden realization on how a single powerful element could manipulate the outputs of certain circumstances. She laughed at this thought-from a chuckle to a loud burst of sinister guffaw that resonated throughout the room like a roaring thunder. The crystal clear chess piece on her palms revealed a fracture on its side, slowly spreading across its ever delicate glass surface. In a matter of seconds, it exploded-shattering itself in a million red hot fragments-and ceased to exist. Her hands, as well as her hair and eyes, were ignited in bluish-white tinted flame, setting the room into near hundred degrees scorching limit, surpassing the cold early morning breeze howling from the Norwegian fjord.
Her laughter continuous.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
To avoid confusion between the two "queens" mentioned near the end part of the chapter, the one written with a capital letter signifies the queen as the reigning monarch/ruler of Solberg.
More chapters coming up. Stay updated.
Thank You and have a prosperous day ahead...