Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

The aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread drifted through the second floor of the inn, intertwining with the comforting warmth radiating from the large stone hearth blazing at the center of the hall.

Beyond the frosted windows, snow continued its endless descent, cloaking the world in white silence. Yet inside, the inn pulsed with life; laughter, animated conversation, and the gentle clinking of goblets weaving together an atmosphere of rare, fleeting comfort.

By one of the broad windows overlooking the snow-covered expanse, two men sat whose mere presence spoke of noble stature and authority.

Goldric looked every bit the Lord he was.

Gone were the simple night garments from the previous evening. In their place, he now wore a dark sapphire woolen tunic embroidered with intricate silver thread along the collar and cuffs.

A thick white fur mantle rested across his broad shoulders, fastened by an ornate silver clasp shaped like a snowflake. His golden hair fell neatly past his shoulders, framing a face carved by years of command and conflict. Though dressed in refined luxury, there remained an unmistakable ruggedness about him; a warrior’s edge that no fabric or finery could ever conceal.

Opposite him sat his son, Maverick.

Compared to his father’s imposing splendor, the young noble’s attire was far more restrained, though no less expensive.

He wore a charcoal-gray winter coat tailored to his frame, lined with soft white fur that guarded against the northern cold. Beneath it lay a simple black tunic cinched neatly by a leather belt, paired with dark trousers tucked into sturdy snow boots.

His shoulder-length golden hair was loosely tied back, allowing a few strands to frame his composed face. His golden eyes carried a quiet sharpness, ever calm, like a smiling serpent watching the world with patient intent.

Between father and son rested a feast large enough for a full household.

Thick slices of roasted elk glistened under herb butter. A steaming bowl of creamy potato stew sat at the center, surrounded by freshly baked rye bread, smoked river fish, roasted winter vegetables, honey-glazed roots, cured sausages, and wedges of pale northern cheese. Beside each plate, goblets of hot berry cider released soft spirals of fragrant steam into the air.

The two were in the midst of discussing the worsening storm outside when a gentle feminine voice suddenly broke through their conversation.

”Young Lord Maverick...”

Maverick turned at once.

A young woman stood only a few steps away from their table.

For a brief moment, surprise flickered across his otherwise composed expression before it melted into a courteous smile.

”Young Lady Eirlys Frostborne,” he greeted smoothly.

The white-haired woman returned the greeting with an elegant curtsy.

”At first,” she said softly, her refined voice carrying the measured cadence of northern nobility, ”I wondered if I had mistaken someone else for the heir of House Valehart. But seeing you here confirms I was correct after all.”

Maverick rose politely from his seat.

”It has been some time,” he replied. ”I did not expect to encounter you here of all places.”

Eirlys smiled gently. ”Nor did I expect it myself. I was about to retire to my room when I happened to notice you from the corridor, so I decided to greet you properly.”

Her gaze then shifted toward the man seated across from Maverick. Instantly, her expression turned more respectful as she lowered herself into another graceful curtsy.

”Lord Goldric. It has been many years.”

Goldric offered a warm, measured smile.

”So it has, Lady Eirlys. The last time I saw you, you were scarcely tall enough to reach this table. Now look at you—time has shaped you into a fine young lady.”

A faint blush touched her cheeks.

”You honor me with your praise, my lord.”

Goldric chuckled softly. ”It is no empty praise. I am certain your grandfather must be immensely proud.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes thoughtful.

”Speaking of him, it has been nearly six years since I last visited House Frostborne. How fares the old man?”

Eirlys’ expression softened at once.

”He is in good health, my lord. In fact, he still moves as though he were in his prime. It is almost... frustrating, at times.”

Goldric’s smile deepened. ”That sounds exactly like him.”

A brief, comfortable silence settled over the table before Maverick gestured to an empty chair.

”Would you care to join us for a while, Lady Eirlys?”

Her blue eyes brightened slightly.

”If you would permit it, I would gladly accept.”

”By all means,” Maverick said.

”Thank you.”

Eirlys gracefully took her seat, while her four maidservants bowed and positioned themselves a short distance away.

Maverick resumed his meal casually. ”So, what brings you to this inn?”

Eirlys folded her hands neatly. ”We were on our way to Valor when the storm forced us to seek shelter here.”

Maverick nodded. ”Coincidentally, we are also bound for Valor. The storm delayed our departure as well.”

”A coincidence indeed,” she replied with a soft smile.

After a brief pause, Maverick added, ”May I ask what business takes you to the capital? Traveling there at such a time suggests something important.”

Eirlys hesitated for only a moment before answering.

”The Sanctums are holding their examinations in Valor. I intend to participate.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Maverick’s face.

”So you are already an Awakener. Congratulations.”

A faint blush returned to her cheeks.

”Thank you, Young Lord.”

She was about to continue when one of her maidservants leaned in to whisper something into her ear.

Eirlys nodded once, then stood gracefully.

”I am afraid I must take my leave.”

She offered another elegant curtsy.

”It was a pleasure meeting you again, Young Lord Maverick.”

Maverick inclined his head. ”Likewise.”

She turned to Goldric.

”Lord Goldric, thank you for your company.”

”The pleasure was mine,” he replied calmly. ”We are likely to see more of each other, given that we are staying in the same inn.”

Eirlys gave a small, polite smile.

”Then I look forward to it.”

With one final graceful nod, she turned and departed the dining hall. Her four maidservants followed in quiet formation, their footsteps fading into the corridor beyond.

And just like that, the warmth of the moment lingered behind her, like the fading echo of a snowfall passing through light...