Chapter 99: Frost Station Seven Stands
The dead came with the storm.
From atop Frost Station Seven's walls, Commander Harl watched the endless sea of blue eyes emerge from the snow.
Thousands.
No.
Far more than thousands.
The frozen valley below seemed alive.
A moving ocean of corpses stretching beyond visibility.
Even after all his training, even after years of preparation, the sight sent a chill through his bones.
Beside him, one of the younger soldiers swallowed hard.
"Gods..."
Harl laughed.
"First time seeing an army?"
The younger man nodded.
Harl grinned.
"Ugly bastards, aren't they?"
Several soldiers laughed.
The tension eased slightly.
Only slightly.
Because everyone knew what stood before them.
Death.
The radio beside Harl crackled.
"My King."
Jon's voice answered immediately.
"Harl."
For a brief moment neither spoke.
Then Harl smiled.
"King Jon."
He glanced at the approaching army.
"I truly apologize."
The communication center of Winter's Heaven fell silent.
Everyone listened.
"I refused your order."
Jon remained quiet.
Harl continued.
"But I swear to you."
His hand tightened around the handle of his Valyrian steel katana.
"We will hold this station."
Another soldier stepped beside him.
Then another.
Then another.
Twenty men.
One giant.
Two direwolves.
All waiting.
All listening.
"We will buy time."
Harl's voice grew firmer.
"We will give Winter's Heaven time to mobilize."
"We will give Tormund time to gather the army."
"We will give the kingdom time to prepare."
Silence followed.
Then Jon answered.
"Understood."
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Yet every soldier smiled.
Because they understood.
Their king respected their choice.
Hundreds of kilometers away, Winter's Heaven exploded into motion.
War bells rang.
Factories halted civilian production.
Military trains received priority.
Radio towers spread orders across the kingdom.
Tormund personally took command.
Fifteen thousand soldiers were already mobilizing.
Thousands more prepared to follow.
Steam trains thundered northward.
Entire divisions boarded in minutes.
The kingdom was waking up.
But it would take time.
And time was exactly what Frost Station Seven intended to buy.
The first undead reached bow range.
"Archers!"
The soldiers moved instantly.
No hesitation.
No panic.
Years of training took over.
"Loose!"
Dragon glass arrows darkened the sky.
The first ranks of the dead collapsed.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
More arrows followed.
Another volley.
Another.
The valley filled with shattered corpses.
Yet the dead continued advancing.
Stepping over their fallen.
Uncaring.
Unstoppable.
"Cannons!"
Tom's creations roared.
Three heavy ship cannons mounted atop the station walls erupted.
Thunder rolled across the frozen valley.
Entire sections of the undead army disappeared.
Bodies flew.
Ice shattered.
The soldiers cheered.
Then they reloaded.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Every shot carved bloody paths through the enemy.
But the gaps closed immediately.
There were simply too many.
Hours passed.
The dead kept coming.
The soldiers kept fighting.
Arrow after arrow.
Cannon after cannon.
The giant hurled massive boulders into the advancing hordes.
Each impact crushed dozens.
The two direwolves launched themselves beyond the walls whenever small groups managed to approach.
Tearing.
Ripping.
Killing.
The battlefield became a graveyard.
Yet the enemy never slowed.
Eventually the arrows ran out.
Then the cannon ammunition.
The dead reached the walls.
And everyone knew what came next.
Harl smiled.
Finally.
The real battle.
"Open the gates."
Several soldiers blinked.
One laughed.
"About time."
The gates opened.
Twenty warriors stepped forward.
Valyrian steel gleaming.
Breathing techniques activated.
Steam escaped their mouths.
The snow beneath their feet cracked.
Then they charged.
The impact was devastating.
The first ranks of the dead exploded apart.
Heads flew.
Limbs scattered.
Bodies collapsed.
Valyrian steel flashed through the blizzard.
The soldiers became demons.
Every movement precise.
Every strike lethal.
Years of training.
Years inside the God's Training Dimension.
Years preparing for this exact enemy.
Finally unleashed.
One soldier cut down three wights in a single motion.
Another leaped into a crowd and emerged surrounded by corpses.
The giant smashed through entire formations.
The direwolves became white blurs of death.
The dead could not match them individually.
Not even close.
But numbers did not care about skill.
Numbers did not tire.
Numbers did not fear.
Numbers simply kept coming.
One soldier fell.
Dragged down beneath dozens of corpses.
His final scream echoed across the battlefield.
Another lost an arm.
Yet continued fighting one-handed.
A third collapsed after exhaustion finally caught him.
The dead swarmed him instantly.
Still they fought.
Minute after minute.
Hour after hour.
Every second mattered.
Every second meant more trains arriving.
More soldiers mobilizing.
More defenses being prepared.
The radio continued broadcasting everything.
Winter's Heaven listened.
Factories listened.
Soldiers on trains listened.
Families listened.
An entire kingdom listened.
And nobody forgot a single name.
Eventually Harl realized the truth.
The station would not survive.
But then he looked north.
Toward the distant railway lines.
Toward the kingdom beyond.
And he smiled.
Because the sacrifice had worked.
The dead had been delayed.
The army was coming.
Winter's Heaven would be ready.
Blood covered his armor.
His breathing had become ragged.
Only a handful of defenders remained standing.
The giant still fought.
One direwolf still lived.
The others had already fallen.
Yet none retreated.
Not one.
Harl raised his sword.
The radio still clipped to his armor.
"My King."
Far away, Jon answered instantly.
"Harl."
The commander looked toward the endless dead.
Then smiled.
"We bought you time."
Silence followed.
Then Jon replied.
"You did."
The simplest answer.
Yet it meant everything.
Harl laughed.
Then turned toward the enemy.
"One more charge."
The remaining soldiers grinned.
Valyrian steel rose.
And together they charged into the sea of death.
For Winter's Heaven.
For their King.
For the future they had helped build.
And for the precious hours their sacrifice had purchased.
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Author's Note:
Thank you all for reading and supporting my stories!
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