Icegaard

One river separates Icegaard from occupied Rovengaard. Most winters it freezes solid, and for three months the border is a road. Camp escapees cross it at night with the F still raw on their arms. Icegaard traders cross the other way with grain and lamp oil. Every spring the Arcadian garrison counts who is missing.

Icegaard is half Frysian by blood and it has never stopped saying so. Brothers is the word, an old one from before the Betrayal. No official in Vryehelm will repeat it and no Icegaard official will withdraw it. Britannia noticed. The crossing is watched from towers now and the towers are new.

The other half of Icegaard is Ulvkin. Few in number, but enough that the nation's old duty still stands. Keep the northern packs north. Icegaard's own Ulvkin patrol the tree line and they are the ones who report that the packs from Frostbreath are drifting closer every year.

Icegaard has spent two hundred years as a wall. Frysians see a gate. The packs see a gate. Britannia is deciding which reading to enforce.