The banners of Valtoria rippled in the icy wind, their deep blue and silver sigils stark against the pale winter sky. Lady Merlyn Everest stood at the high balcony of the fortress, her sharp gaze fixed on the road below as the scouts returned.
Edmund rode at the head of the column, his figure upright and composed despite the exhaustion that surely gnawed at him after months on the road. Behind him, a line of young men, the last recruits of the year, marched with mixed expressions—some resolute, others uncertain, all of them stepping toward an uncertain future.
Merlyn's fingers tightened around the stone railing. How many of them would survive the coming years? How many would rise to become knights of Valtoria? And how many would perish before their names could even be remembered?
Beside Edmund, Sir John of Eager rode with an ease that came only with experience. A man once scorned as a common village boy now returned as a knight of Valtoria. A reminder that even the lowliest could rise—if they had the strength to endure.
As the gates creaked open and the recruits entered the courtyard, Merlyn turned away, her long cloak billowing behind her. The future of Valtoria had arrived, whether it was ready or not.
Lady Merlyn Everest sat at her writing desk, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the study. The room was silent, save for the soft scratching of her quill against parchment. Outside, the wind howled through the stone halls of Valtoria, but within, her thoughts were fixed on matters far beyond the fortress walls.
She dipped her quill into the inkwell and began:
To Lord Edwin of House Everest, The Warden and The Protector of North, Husband and Father.
I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I fear the burden upon you is heavy. Word has reached me of your father's condition, and while duty binds you to his side, know that Valtoria stands as strong as ever in your absence.
Edmund has returned from his long campaign. The recruits he gathered this year are the most promising we have seen in a long time. He carried out his task with diligence, and his name now carries weight among our commanders. Sir John of Eager accompanied him, a living testament to what the common-born can achieve under Valtoria's banner.
You would have been proud to see them ride through the gates, their banners held high against the winter sky. The young men who follow Edmund now march toward a future of steel and fire, and with them, the strength of Valtoria grows.
Yet, even with these victories, I cannot shake the feeling that darker times are on the horizon. The winds from the North whisper of unrest, and the balance we have so carefully maintained grows ever more fragile. I would welcome your thoughts on this, should time allow you to write.
Alana is also well and in perfect health, she managed to finish her first tunic and she is having a good day. I hope you can come home before your daughter's birth anniversary.
I miss you, my beloved leader and husband.
Until your return, may your path be steady and your sword swift and the Gods be with you.
Lady Merlyn Everest, Wife and Mother.
Lady of Valtoria
She carefully folded the letter, pressing the seal of House Everest onto the cooling wax. With deliberate steps, she approached the grand aviary on the tower's upper floor. The crisp night air greeted her as she entered, the faint rustling of wings echoing in the dim lantern glow.
A great northern falcon stood upon its perch, its silver-grey feathers ruffled slightly as it turned its sharp gaze toward her. Merlyn fastened the letter to its leg, her fingers brushing the cool leather of the message tube.
"Fly fast, my hunter," she murmured, stroking the falcon's head before lifting her arm.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the bird launched into the night, disappearing beyond the darkened cliffs of Valtoria.
The main hall of the Valtoria Castle was a vast, echoing space, with high ceilings supported by heavy beams, their dark wood showing signs of the wear from the harsh northern winters. The stone walls, though solid and unyielding, bore the subtle markings of age, as cracks snaked through them like the ravages of time. A long, polished table stood at the center of the hall, its dark surface reflecting the soft light of the torches on the stone walls.
The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, the crackling of the fire from the hearth at the far end of the hall mixing with the murmurs of nervous voices. Today, the hall was filled with the most unlikely of audiences—common folk from all corners of the Northern territories had gathered, clutching their concerns, their pleas, their grievances. They stood on the cold stone floors, awaiting their turn to approach the rulers of Valtoria.
At the front of the hall,Young Lord Edmund Everest stood by the side of Merlyn, his posture tall, and his expression a mix of determination and restraint. Behind them, Sir Jonas Chamberlain, a seasoned knight and trusted advisor, stood alert, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. To their side, Sir John of Eager, now a trusted knight of Valtoria, surveyed the room with quiet scrutiny. The young knight had grown considerably since his days as a simple peasant from Eager, now clad in the fine armor of a knight, his presence radiating authority as much as his now-rugged features.
The sound of the large oak doors creaking open reverberated through the hall, and the first petitioners were ushered in. A farmer, with weathered skin and hands roughened from years of labor, approached. His eyes were wary but full of hope.
"Lady Merlyn, my Lord Edmund," he began, his voice gravelly but firm. "The harvest has failed. The fields are barren, and the frost came too early. My family is hungry, and I don't know where to turn. We've tried everything, but the earth refuses to give."
Merlyn glanced at Edmund, who stepped forward, his face a mask of empathy and concern. Though his role was often one of military command, today, he was tasked with learning the ways of diplomacy, of listening to the voices of the people, understanding their suffering.
"We will look into it," Edmund said, his voice steady but kind. "Have you tried seeking aid from the neighboring farms or the local village cooperatives? There may be others in the same situation."
The farmer's gaze faltered slightly. "We've tried, my lord, but even they are struggling. The local lordship has not sent help. It's as if we've been forgotten."
Merlyn's gaze sharpened. She turned to Sir Jonas. "What do you suggest?"
Jonas stepped forward, his calm demeanor unwavering. "We might need to send someone to assess the neighboring estates. There could be supplies available from other regions. We must ensure that no one in the territory suffers in silence."
Merlyn nodded, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "Make it so," she ordered, turning back to the farmer. "You will not be forgotten. I will ensure that aid is sent. You may leave with the hope of better days."
The farmer bowed deeply, relief flooding his face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you, my lord." With that, he turned and left, the burden on his shoulders temporarily lifted.
As the next petitioner came forward, a woman with tired eyes and a babe in her arms, the room grew heavy with the weight of their collective struggles. The woman spoke of her husband, a soldier who had been sent to the borders months ago and had not returned. She wept quietly as she asked if anyone knew of his fate.
Merlyn's eyes softened, and Edmund could feel the tension in the air. This was not just a matter of resource or food—it was about human lives, families torn apart by the endless demands of war.
"I cannot promise what I do not know," Merlyn said gently. "But I will ensure that word is sent to the border garrisons. I will do everything in my power to find your husband."
The woman looked up, her eyes filled with both gratitude and despair. "I pray to the gods you do," she whispered before stepping back.
As the day wore on, more people came and went. Some had complaints about the harsh winters, others sought relief from taxes or pleaded for protection from marauding bands of thieves. Edmund watched, listening carefully, his mind absorbing the vast complexity of the issues facing his people. His role was not just to command armies but to understand the struggles of the land, to become not only a ruler but a symbol of hope in these troubled times.
Finally, as the last petitioner left, Merlyn looked at Edmund, a tired but resolute expression on her face. "You have seen it now," she said quietly. "The people are suffering, and they need more than just warriors—they need someone who will hear their voices, someone who can give them hope in the darkest of times."
Edmund nodded solemnly. "I understand now, Lady Merlyn. The weight of leadership is heavier than I ever imagined."
"You will grow into it, Mi' Lord," Sir Jonas spoke up, his voice firm with the weight of years of experience. "But remember, it's not just about listening—it's about acting on what you hear. Action will build their trust in you."
Merlyn watched them both closely, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "And the first step is understanding. The North will need its leaders to stand together."
As the day drew to a close and the last of the petitioners departed, the heavy atmosphere in the hall slowly lifted. The air, now filled with the flickering light of the hearth, felt warmer as Edmund and Merlyn made their way to the high balcony that overlooked the training grounds outside the castle. The cold breeze that swept in from the north made the warmth of the hall feel like a distant memory, but Merlyn was used to the chill, her expression calm as she gazed out at the young recruits.
They were gathered in the courtyard below, their swords clashing in drills, the sound of metal ringing out against the distant backdrop of snow-covered mountains. It was a hard, noisy scene, but to Merlyn, it was the pulse of Valtoria's future. She had learned long ago that the strength of a kingdom wasn't just in its castles and armies—it was in its people, their perseverance, and their resolve.
Turning to Edmund, she raised an eyebrow. "How do they fare?" she asked, her voice measured but curious.
Edmund, standing beside her with his hands clasped behind his back, watched the recruits intently. His expression was thoughtful, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he surveyed the young men in training. "They're strong, Lady Merlyn. Many of them have potential. The kind of raw strength that could become something much more with the right guidance."
Merlyn nodded, her gaze following his. "Is there anyone in particular who stands out to you?" she asked, her tone light but probing.
Edmund hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on a small group of young men who were sparring near the edge of the courtyard. "There are three who've caught my eye," he said after a beat. "Each of them has something different."
Merlyn turned her head slightly, her interest piqued. "Do tell. Who are they?"
Edmund's gaze softened as he spoke, a glint of respect in his voice. "The first is a lad named Caden—he's quick, agile, and has the kind of sharp instincts that you can't teach. He's got the potential to be a great scout, if that's the path he chooses. His speed and cunning remind me of a wolf—quick to strike, and always aware of his surroundings."
Merlyn's lips curled into a small smile. "A wolf, you say?" She looked back down at the training grounds, where Caden's movements were quick and precise. "I can see it. Who else?"
Edmund's gaze shifted, and he pointed toward another group near the center of the courtyard. "Then there's Ronan. Strong as an ox, and relentless. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in sheer power. He's got the heart of a soldier, no question. If he learns discipline, he could be a force to be reckoned with."
Merlyn's eyes flicked toward Ronan, who was lifting a large sword with ease, his muscles straining under the weight. "He does look formidable," she remarked, her tone approving but careful. "And the third?"
Edmund's expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful as his gaze moved to a young man who stood apart from the others. A boy with striking features, dark hair, and a quiet determination in his eyes. Merlyn could see the intensity in his posture even from this distance. "Alaric," Edmund said, almost as if the name weighed heavily on his tongue. "He's got fire in him. Not like Caden's quickness or Ronan's strength, but something deeper. There's a kind of resolve in him that I can't ignore."
Merlyn's eyes narrowed, studying Alaric carefully. "What is it about him that draws your attention?" she asked, her voice low, intrigued.
Edmund took a deep breath. "There's a focus in his eyes. He doesn't just fight for the sake of fighting. He fights like he's got something to prove. Something to protect. His technique isn't perfect, but there's a raw power there, and a determination that could make him a great leader someday. I think he's the kind of man who could rally others."
Merlyn's gaze lingered on Alaric for a moment longer before she turned back to Edmund. "I see. You're impressed by his spirit, then."
"Impressed isn't quite the word," Edmund replied thoughtfully, his eyes still on the young man below. "I'm curious. There's something about him. His focus, his intensity—it's not common among the recruits. If he learns to channel that, he could be more than just a soldier. He could be a commander."
Merlyn's lips quirked slightly as she looked at Edmund, her tone light but knowing. "You've taken quite an interest in him. Perhaps we should make sure he's given the right kind of training. It would be a waste not to nurture potential like that."
Edmund met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. "I think he'll surprise us," he said quietly. "In time, he might just become someone we need to watch."
Merlyn nodded, her gaze once more falling on the recruits below. "Very well. Keep an eye on him, Edmund. And the others, too. We'll need all the strong men we can get in the coming years."
Edmund's gaze lingered on Alaric for a moment longer, before he nodded in agreement. "I'll make sure of it."
And with that, they stood in silence, watching the recruits train, the future of Valtoria unfolding before them.
In the quiet, serene chamber of Lady Merlyn, the peaceful atmosphere was broken only by the crackling of the fireplace. The sunlight, warm and golden, filtered through the large windows, casting gentle beams on the wooden floors. Lady Merlyn sat comfortably in an armchair, a cup of warm tea resting in her hands. After a long, tiring day of overseeing her husband's duties, she finally had a rare moment of rest.
But that tranquility was short-lived.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder by the second. Then, without warning, the door to her chamber burst open with a burst of energy. Lady Merlyn looked up, a faint smile forming on her lips when she saw her youngest daughter, Alana, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with excitement, her hands clutching a stack of books and rolled-up papers.
"Mother! Mother!" Alana exclaimed, her voice filled with infectious enthusiasm. "I've been learning about flowers! And the planets in the sky! But I also found something even more exciting! Look!"
Lady Merlyn, though already anticipating this interruption, couldn't help but smile at her daughter's boundless curiosity. At just seven years old, Alana was constantly discovering new things, always asking questions and searching for answers in a world she found endlessly fascinating.
"Alana, what are you doing here?" Merlyn asked gently, her voice warm, yet tired. "Shouldn't you be playing outside?"
"I've been reading!" Alana replied, nearly bouncing off her feet in excitement. "Look, I made this!" She unrolled a piece of parchment, revealing a drawing of the solar system with planets orbiting the sun. "How does the sun stay in the sky? Why does the moon only come out at night? And why is the sun so hot? I want to know everything!"
Merlyn chuckled softly, setting her tea aside. "Oh, Alana, that's a lot of questions for someone your age," she said, still smiling. "But I'll answer them if you'll let me rest a little while."
Alana didn't seem to notice her mother's need for rest. "Can I go to the library? I want to learn all about it! I want to know how planets spin and why flowers bloom in the spring! I want to know everything, just like you, Mother!"
Before Merlyn could respond, a sudden sound interrupted them—loud, hurried footsteps approaching. The door swung open again, and a servant, looking flustered, appeared in the doorway. "My Lady, forgive me," the servant said, bowing quickly, "But young Lady Alana is—"
Alana, who had been so absorbed in her excitement, didn't even look up at the servant, her eyes still fixed on her mother. The servant sighed, stepping into the room. "My Lady, I'm afraid she's been disturbing your rest again."
Merlyn raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement. "Alana," she said, her voice soft but firm, "You've been a little too eager today. Perhaps it's time to give me some peace and quiet, hmm?"
"But I want to learn!" Alana protested, her bottom lip sticking out in a small pout. "I want to know about everything in the world! Please, Mother, just a little more time!"
The servant, who had been patiently waiting, finally spoke up again. "My Lady, perhaps it would be best if we take Lady Alana outside for a while? She needs to burn off some of that energy."
Lady Merlyn's smile widened at her daughter's determination, but she knew that the day had already been long enough. "All right, Alana," she said gently, "You can learn more tomorrow, but for now, let's give your mother a rest."
Reluctantly, Alana handed her rolled-up papers and books to the servant, who took them with a slight bow. "Come along, Lady Alana," the servant said, holding out a hand.
Alana sighed dramatically, but she knew better than to argue. "Fine, but I'm coming back tomorrow with even more questions!" she declared as she was led out of the room.
Merlyn shook her head fondly, listening to her daughter's fading footsteps. She couldn't help but smile. Despite the interruption, she was proud of Alana's endless curiosity, and she knew that someday, her daughter's thirst for knowledge would lead her to great things.
As the door closed and the room fell silent once more, Merlyn leaned back into her chair, closing her eyes for a moment, grateful for the brief respite. But she also couldn't wait to see what new discoveries Alana would bring to her next time.