Raven awoke to the soft warmth surrounding him, the gentle hum of the runecraft heater embedded in the stone wall filling the room with a steady heat. His eyes adjusted to the dim morning light filtering through a small, fortified window. He blinked a few times, stretching his sore limbs, before finally sitting up.

  His room was modest yet sturdy, built with polished stone walls accented by warm wooden beams and a wooden floor. His bed, solid and reliable, was draped in a thick cover made from the pelt of a bearwolf, offering a comforting weight. On the wall, a white flag adorned with the sigil of Stormhold—a kite shield with a hammer emblazoned in its center—hung proudly.

  His gaze drifted toward the window, where a view of Wintermane Forest awaited him. A few wolves were playing in the snow, their forms darting through the frost-covered trees with effortless grace. Below the window, a simple desk and chair sat neatly in place. Resting atop the desk, Shadebinder lay within her sheath, her presence as ever-watchful as the fortress itself.

  Good morning, my brave knight.

  The sword’s voice echoed cheerfully in his mind.

  Raven rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let out a small yawn. "Good morning," he murmured sheepishly.

  He took his time getting dressed, selecting a simple yet well-crafted tunic, trousers, boots, and a cape from the wardrobe. After washing up, he secured Shadebinder to his belt. The sword hummed once more.

  Now, let’s find the most beautiful flower in the garden.

  Raven stepped out into the hall, the chill of the stone corridor quickly countered by the warmth of the runecraft-heated air. He and Shadebinder had agreed to visit the nearby garden—a marvel in this frozen land.

  The garden was a stunning sight. Heated by carefully placed rune stones, it thrived despite the relentless winter outside. A mix of tulips, roses, lilies, and other vibrant flowers flourished in organized rows, their colors bright against the backdrop of snow-covered walls. The space was designed for conversations, a rare pocket of warmth and life within Everfrost Fortress.

  Among the visitors in the garden was Mary, waiting patiently amidst the floral display.

  Neither Raven nor Mary had lessons with Lilia that day, so they had planned to meet here before heading to the mess hall for breakfast.

  Raven approached her, offering a casual greeting, which she returned with a smile.

  Such a nice use of magic, creating a warm, colorful garden in a frozen land.

  Shadebinder mused.

  The two of them found a bench and sat, taking a moment to admire the tranquil space before heading off to eat.

  As they sit on the bench, the warmth of the garden settling around them, Shadebinder’s softly and teasingly hums in Raven’s mind.

  The flowers are beautiful, but none quite as striking as the one beside you.

  Raven hesitates, glancing at Mary’s dress—deep winter blue, embroidered with silver filigree like frost on glass. "Your dress... it suits you. The color reminds me of the sky before snowfall."

  Mary glances at him, surprised for a moment before offering a quiet smile.

  The warmth of the garden lingered as Raven and Mary sat in comfortable silence. A breeze, faint but crisp, carried the scent of earth and blossoms, a reminder of the winter beyond these walls.

  Mary glanced toward the hallway leading back inside "We should head to the mess hall before breakfast is gone."

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  Raven nods, standing and offering a hand "Yeah."

  Mary hesitated for half a second before taking it, her fingers cool against his palm. It was only a moment—fleeting, unspoken—before she released him and stepped ahead.

  The fortress air was noticeably cooler here, despite the rune-heated halls. Their footsteps echoed softly against polished stone as they made their way toward the main stairwell.

  As they approached the gatehouse, the northern gate was opening. The structure itself was heavily guarded, yet the knights stationed there carried themselves with a relaxed demeanor—until the cold wind swept in.

  A group of knights and their wolves entered the fortress, dragging behind them a sleigh carrying at least one bearwolf carcass. Their armor was in rough shape—dented, torn, and missing pieces in some places. One knight and their wolf were noticeably injured, transported on a separate sleigh.

  Raven's eyes locked onto the injured knight’s helmet. He had seen it before, though only in his feverish state. The design was unique—covering the entire head, with dull glass protecting the eyes. The mouthpiece appeared detachable.

  Most of the wolves in the returning party were ordinary, but a few stood out—shadowy, ethereal beasts summoned by the Wolfking himself. These spectral wolves moved with purpose, seemingly filling in for the tired and injured ones. The last person to enter was riding one of them.

  As she removed her helmet, her golden eyes and dark hair stood out amongst the red, blonde, and silver-haired knights. Aira.

  She looked exhausted and disappointed. Her cape was in tatters, and her clothes were covered in blood—though none of it appeared to be hers. As the gate closed behind them, her summoned wolves vanished into the air.

  Mary hurriedly approached Aira, worry in her voice as they spoke in their foreign tongue. The others began attending to the injured, leading the wolves toward Wintermane Forest.

  As the northern gate sealed shut, the southern gate began to open.

  Another group of knights walked in, though these ones wore no armor.

  At the back of the procession, a man and his wolf radiated authority. Broad-shouldered with piercing blue eyes, shoulder-length silver hair, and a strong jawline, he carried himself with undeniable presence. A small scar marked his jaw, his face otherwise clean-shaven. Beside him, his wolf—larger than the others—moved with intelligence in its gaze.

  Aira tensed at his arrival. A flicker of irritation crossed her face before she attempted to dust herself off—though the blood on her clothes made the effort futile. She let out a small sigh of resignation.

  Mary leaned toward Raven and whispered, "That is the Highlord, Cedric Wintermane—Aira’s father. And his wolf, Nighthowl."

  So, this is the man Lilia deems worthy of braving the cold.

  Shadebinder mused.

  Cedric dismounted, walking up to Aira. Their conversation started quietly, but the tension in their tones was unmistakable.

  Mary whispered again, "Aira wasn’t supposed to go on an expedition into the Wilds this time of year. And having a knight and wolf injured doesn’t help her case."

  As Cedric’s gaze shifted to the injured knight and wolf, a brief moment of guilt flashed across Aira’s face. Strangely, the injured knight also seemed burdened by guilt—as if feeling responsible for the trouble Aira was in.

  A moment of silence passed before Cedric turned his eyes toward Raven.

  Raven stiffened under the Highlord’s scrutiny, sensing the faint distrust in his piercing gaze.

  Meanwhile, Nighthowl nudged Aira with his large head, letting out a low whine. Aira responded by petting him gently, a small, tired smile appearing on her face.

  Cedric asked another question—this time, about Raven, his voice sharp with curiosity. Aira hesitated, likely trying to find the right words to avoid discussing whatever plans she had for him.

  Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out.

  "Cedric!"

  All eyes turned to the newcomer.

  Lilia, in a deep, rich purple, layered dress.

  As the tension lingers, Lilia strides forward, unfazed by the heavy atmosphere. Without hesitation, she reaches up, seizes Cedric’s collar, and pulls him down into a kiss—brief but firm, as if she has no patience for brooding.

  When she pulls away, she gives him a look, half amusement, half reprimand.

  Cedric exhales, tension melting from his shoulders as he squeezes her waist in response—silent, but accepting.

  Cedric let out a firm yet weary sigh, finishing his conversation with Aira before reaching out to ruffle her hair. She sighed but allowed it, the briefest smile playing at her lips before she turned to wash up.

  Mary smirked. "Lady Lilia always knows how to break the ice."

  But this isn’t over, is it?

  Shadebinder questioned.

  Mary shook her head. "No. The Highlord said they would continue this privately."

  Lilia’s attention shifted to Mary and Raven.

  "Mary, Raven—you were heading to eat, right? Let’s wait for Aira to freshen up, then we’ll all feast together."

  Raven sighed internally. It seems my next breakfast will include the Highlord himself.