Frostmere Ford

Frostmere Ford is black water, broken towers, rival toll marks, and banks that have heard too many last words. The Northward Road narrows there until armies, refugees, judges, smugglers, and claimants must all become honest about needing the same crossing. Ice makes the ford beautiful at sunrise, a hard glitter under pale sky, but beauty there has drowned horses and hidden bodies. The mud smells of rust, river weed, wet leather, and old blood when thaw comes. Every major Varric quarrel seems to leave something at Frostmere: a seal, a banner scrap, a witness, or a corpse the river refuses.