Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

The Frozen North remained unchanged beneath the veil of night.

Endless plains of white stretched toward the horizon, buried beneath layers of ancient snow that had accumulated over countless winters.

Normally, the heavens above would be illuminated by vast ribbons of emerald, sapphire, violet, and silver auroras dancing across the sky like celestial rivers.

Tonight, however, those lights remained hidden as a blizzard raged across the land...

Snow descended in relentless sheets, carried by fierce winds that howled across the tundra like wandering beasts searching for prey.

Countless flakes swirled through the darkness, reducing visibility to little more than a pale haze. The storm battered everything in its path, erasing roads, landmarks, and tracks beneath fresh layers of snow.

From afar, the entire world appeared swallowed by an endless ocean of white. Yet amidst that froze wilderness stood a solitary inn...

Its lanternlit windows glowed warmly against the stone, resembling a beacon amidst the darkness.

Golden light spilled onto snow-covered ground while smoke drifted lazily from stone chimneys before vanishing into the blizzard.

Inside the uppermost floor, Goldric Valehart stood beside a broad window overlooking the storm outside.

The room was quite befitting for a man of his stature.

Polished timber panels lined the walls, their rich amber hue contrasting sharply against the cold world beyond the glass. Thick rugs woven from the pelts of northern Frostbeasts covered much of the floor, providing warmth beneath one’s feet.

A massive four-poster bed occupied one side of the chamber, draped with dark blue curtains embroidered with silver thread that shimmered beneath its lamplight.

Opposite it stood a finely crafted trolley layered with delicacies. Roasted meats, fresh fruits preserved through Aetheric methods, aged cheese, and pastries dusted with sugar rested upon the silver trays.

The spread alon was enough to make the mouth of a common man water.

Near the fireplace rested ttow cushioned armchairs surrounding a low frostwood table carved with intricate patterns of snowflakes and mountain peaks.

Crystal lamps hung from the ceiling, their gentle glow illuminating the room with a comforting warmth. Also, the scent of cedarwood lingered pleasantly in the air...

After the ambush by the Shadow Shard operatives the previous night, Goldric had ordered the convoy to seek temporary refuge. Fortunately, this inn had been located only a short distance from their position.

Also, his decision had proven wise because shortly after their arrival, the blizzard begun. Had they continued travelling, the storm alone might have proven more troublesome than the assassins.

The room remained quiet save for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Flames danced within the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

Goldric held a steaming cup of tea in one hand while gazing through the frosted glass. Tonight, he appeared far removed from the imposing image most associated with the head of House Valehart’s northern branch.

He wore a loose midnight-blue tunic woven from soft silk, and its collar embroidered with subtle silver patterns resembling snowflakes. Over it rested an ivory robe secured around his waist by a simple sash.

The attire was elegant without being extravagant, appearing more confident rather than too informal.

For several moments, he remained silent as he ruminated over the events of the previous night.

The attack itself was not what troubled him as assassination attempts were hardly uncommon for someone in his position. Instead, it was the timing, location, and precision with which it was handled...

Goldric took another sip of tea from the cup... Outwardly, his expression remained calm but his thoughts were far from settled.

A faint squeak suddenly interrupted his contemplation as the door to the chamber slowly opened.

Goldric didn’t even need to turn around to know who had entered.

A moment later, Maverick Valehart stepped into the room...

Unlike his appearance the previous day, the Young Lord had shed the heavy mantle of fur he often wore while travelling through the Frozen North. Somehow, without it, he appeared considerably younger and more approachable.

He wore a charcoal-gray tunic beneath silver robe trimmed with dark blue embroidery. The attire was simple compared to noble fashion, yet it carried an effortless elegance that suited him perfectly.

His golden hair hung loosely around his shoulders and as always, he had that same relaxed and complacent smile on his face.

He looked at the broad back of his father for a second before breaking the silence with his voice.

”I just returned from Commander Dren...” He announced.

Goldric finally turned away from the window. The older man crossed the room with long strides before lowering himself at the edge of the bed. Then, he gestured for his son to continue.

Maverick stepped forward before speaking further.

”He informed me that reinforcement are on their way. But unfortunately, the storm has slowed their advance and they won’t be able to reach us tonight.”

Goldric nodded slowly.

That was hardly surprising as he had seen enough winters in the Frozen North to understand what a blizzard like this could do. Even experienced knights struggled against such weather...

His voice was measured as he asked. ”What about the men? How are they?”

Maverick folded his arms before replying. ”They’re holding up well. The wounded have already received treatment and the healers are confident that most of them will recover without issue.”

”That’s good...” Goldric nodded seriously.

The loss of trained knights was never insignificant, especially during dangerous times as this.

Then, Maverick glanced toward the window before commenting. ”It seems like the storm is getting worse...”

Goldric followed his son’s gaze...

Beyond the frosted glass, snow continued to swirl furiously through the darkness.

”It is. The storm this year arrived even earlier than expected...”

Maverick shrugged his shoulders. ”Winter is approaching and with it comes the Tide season. So terrible weather is practically tradition by now.”

Goldric’s expression remained schooled as his golden eyes settled on his son once more.

”If the storm continues for several days, we may not reach Valor until the next week.”

This statement caused Maverick’s expression to change as he sighed audibly.

”I suppose I won’t be able to convince you to delay or stop the journey, would I?”

The older man looked at him briefly before turning back to the frozen windows.

”No.” He said firmly.

”I figured...”

Outside, the storm continued to rage as the wind slammed against the walls of the inn with enough force to make the structure creak...

Inside, father and son simply sat in silence for a brief moment. This was the sort of quietness shared only between people who understood one another well enough not to fill every moment with words.

Eventually, Goldric set down his empty teacup and spoke once more.

”The night is growing late. You should get some sleep.”

Maverick nodded as he understood that the conversation had already ended with that statement.

Slowly, he stood before inclining his head toward Goldric.

”Good night, father.”

The older man nodded in acknowledgement and with that, the Young Lord turned and walked toward the door.

A moment later, the sound of his footsteps disappeared into the hallway as the door closed softly behind him.

Goldric remained in the silence that followed for several seconds. Then, he rose and returned to the window.

The blizzard still dominated the landscape as snowflakes danced through the darkness relentlessly.

His reflection stared back at him from the frosted glass and for a brief moment, he simply watched the storm. Then, he released a quiet sigh...

”Winter is coming...”

Those words were spoken as little more than a murmur and yet within the Frozen North, fewer statements carried greater weight than that...

Because those words were more like the harbinger of something catastrophic...