Winter’s Rebirth: B1 - 3. Surprise Visitors (Patreon)

Winter’s Rebirth Index

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At five years old, Victor saw the world grow both larger and smaller with each passing year. To the horror of his caretakers, he was getting faster every month! Although his mind was maturing, it was still rare for his adult experiences to fully manifest.

“Young Lord, careful with that sword,” Mathis gently chided as Victor swung his toy weapon through the air; his father’s constable tried to follow him down the steps of the grand hall. “We wouldn’t want you to accidentally knock over one of your mother’s art pieces.”

Victor grinned up at Mathis, a literal giant to his small size, and reluctantly lowered the toy sword. His mother was in a fuss today for reasons he didn't understand, so he wanted to get away and play. “Sorry, Mathis. I was just practicing like Dad.”

Mathis chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “A fine warrior you’ll be one day. But for now, perhaps you could help me by staying out of the way? Your mother has enough to worry about without any added mischief, and I have a lot of work to do, as well.”

Victor’s grin widened, still clutching the sword and waiting for his opportunity. When the squire’s back was turned, he slipped behind the giant scary bear thing in the corner.

“Wait…where the hell did he run off to? He’s got his father’s blood in him, always on the move. I’m too distracted right now to play babysitter,” the man growled. “Where’s Katie when I need the woman?”

Victor wasn’t going to get caught again and get his ear tugged by his mom for dirtying his clothes—no way! His dad had gone off somewhere, he’d slipped Katie when she’d gone to fetch something for his mom, and Mathis was sent to fetch him in passing. He was too busy, so Victor only had to worry about a few people who might hamper his fun; his hands were bleeding again, but that just meant he was a great warrior.

He stiffened when he heard his mother’s sharp and clear voice from down the hall. “Mathis, don’t bother with Victor if he’s causing you trouble. He’s in one of his moods. Give  several minutes and he’ll be slinking back, abashed as usual. Tilda, ensure the fires are stoked well… Oh? Elara, I see you behind that curtain,” she giggled. “Do you want to play ‘Lady Says’ with me again?”

“Oh! Oh! Can I be the lady?!” his twin cried, making Victor slam his forehead and shake his head. You’re so easy, El! Her sweet voice is always a trick. Mathis will go and…

A sensation of clarity sprunt into being. Why did he suddenly feel so silly? Was he supposed to be hiding?

“Can I, Mom?! Please!” his twin begged.

“You can be my Second Lady, repeating everything I say and bossing everyone around.”

“Yay! Matoad, ensure the fires well sto-sto-uh… warm!” Elara chimed in, messing up their father’s right-hand-man’s name, as was usual for her. He wasn’t even the one their mother ordered to do it. However, Victor wondered if she did it on purpose now.

“Hehehe. Yes, Mi’Lady,” the grizzled commander sighed, motioning to the woman who came out from above. “Lady Anna, the Young Lord is hiding again. I know you say to leave him be…but the situation calls for extreme measures. Should I drag him over to you?”

“He’s at that age,” his mother tiredly sighed, making him snicker as his thoughts continued to gradually unfold. “It is so strange. At times Victor is so mature, and then he reverts back to his child like games. He’ll turn up when he gets bored, which shouldn’t be long. Focus on getting everything ready—it has to be perfect.”

“Yes, My Lady. I’ll be gone momentarily to check the security arrangements.”

“Yeah, perfect, Matoad. Big Brother is off slaying ice drakes and rescuing Mom—no, rescuing me! Do the warming…fire thing! Oh, Mom, can I shoot a fireball—I can do it!”

“Matoad here has other important things to do other than tend to the fires, and you haven’t even learned channeling yet, sweetie. We don’t even know your attunement. Soon. Soon.”

“Aww… Are those the soft pillows?!”

Mathis was swift to exit out of the front doors with a chuckle and shake of his head. Victor slipped out from behind the bear and stood in the grand hall of Winterhart Manor as the first of the two layers of doors shut and things quieted down. He took in the sights and sounds around him as memories started to twist and turn in his mind, a veil lifting.

Wait… I’m five? Has it really been that long? He internally marveled, taking a moment to collect his hyperactive, child-like brain.

The world exploded with information, his eyes widening while spinning in a slow circle. The emotional state and memories of his Earth 28-year-old self were still limited to him, but during these rare moments of clarity, parts of it were unlocked.

It put everything into perspective, comparing things from times in his previous world with observations and memories that clicked in this one; it didn’t take him long to realize that he’d had this clarity a few times last month, as well. It was becoming more common now that he’d turned five.

He took a second to marvel at where he stood; things looked a lot different when you were as small as a kid, and adults were literal giants. A door on the second floor opened, and one of the town girls helping his mother jogged in, carrying in the nice tablecloths to spread over the giant table in the center of the hall.

Victor hid behind the dire bear again to collect his scattered mind until she left. Its size was enormous at 6 meters tall. Everything was so confusing at the start of these brain-splitting events, when his past life and current blended together. He had the chest-thumping urge to hide, as if the Jap kamikaze fighters were going to spill out of the many halls and windows any moment.

My knowledge comes back to me, he thought, the headache and tension beginning to pass, but my emotional maturity is still hard to control. It might be troublesome once I hit my teens… Hopefully, my brain will mature faster as I continue to age. Breathe…and focus. I’m not a 5-year-old running around playing. Focus…adapt, learn. 

Looking out from behind the thick brown fur of the dire bear, he stared at the wondrous surroundings. Steam and moisture was thick from the open vents maintaining a healthy equilibrium. It came from the underground spa that ran through the whole town in the dugout undercity of their settlement, meant to provide sustaining heat in the winter and cleanliness—the heart and lifeblood of the town.

The weird part, the water was crystal clear and greenish, having similar properties to the healing emeralds his mother could channel, if far less potent. Not that he’d been to a hot spring to know what they were like on Earth, so maybe they were green. He’d always wanted to go to one in Montana; World War II prevented that. He’d typically associated green water with swamp, but that wasn’t the case here. He shivered, having flashbacks of the Battle of Guadalcanal’s swamps.

The manor had its own private spa in the basement, yet beneath the town center was a gender segregated hot spring area for serfs and soldiers to relax after a hard day’s work to rejuvenate. At least, that was what he’d heard from the five dedicated families that served his parents as maids and butlers.

A massive stone and wood structure, the manor was built to withstand the harsh winters of Frostholm and host large gatherings. It was filled with things unlike anything Victor even heard about in stories or dreamed of back on Earth.

Thick, dark wooden beams supported the high ceilings, and the walls were lined with rich tapestries depicting the history of the Winterhart family; his grandfather’s connection to this region and his battle with the monstrous ice drake of the north were artistically displayed throughout the well-decorated hall.

Much of it had been crafted by his mother out of reverence since she’d been adopted by the legendary imperial knight at a young age; he stood in front of a vase, studying the flaming sword in his grandfather’s hands that it depicted, a glowing ruby and amber attached to his armor—the same one Victor’s father wore now.

A world of magical stones and creatures… Maybe Elara’s books weren’t just fairytales but dreams of places like this. What if the Kraken stories sailors talked about were true? Still, for a community of a little more than 1,000 people, they’ve accomplished so much in this inhospitable land…and chose to be here to follow my grandfather. I need more time to process what stories I’ve heard… What more is out there?

He shifted in place, casting his gaze to the stone floors covered with rugs in deep shades of red and blue, their intricate patterns telling more stories of their battles against the terrain of this northern land—documenting the history of their expanding town.

Stuffed and mounted game adorned the walls—monstrous beasts by Earth’s standards—each one at least twice as large as their Earth counterparts.

Dire wolves, shadowmane leopards, steel-beak swans, and dire bear pelts or heads lined the grand hall of the manor like trophies. Worked into the throne at the back were the teeth of titan orca, ironclaw lynxes fur, mountain moose, and the soft layers of the deadly glacier hare of the northern Snowveil Woods.

Each piece was a testament to the hunting prowess of the Winterhart lineage, many of which his father and mother had hunted together on their idea of dates. He and Elara were in a whole new, unfamiliar world.

He turned to study the massive dire bear he’d stood behind, its fur a dark, mottled brown; it was likely the one he vaguely recalled his father being worried about a few years ago. Obviously, he’d managed to take it down, and, if he remembered correctly, it had earth element and physical enhancement powers, which was the reason for the town walls being so high and thick.

It stood on its hind legs in the corner, towering toward the ceiling, its long claws, coated in condensed stone, extended as if ready to strike. Nearby, the head of a dire wolf stared at him, its red eyes forever frozen in a snarl, mounted above the two roaring fireplaces. Elk antlers, each wider than Victor was tall, hung in places of honor, much of it a reminder of the bounty of the surrounding forests.

Victor’s eyes wandered to the large windows on the upper level, where citizens could congregate if needed when gatherings grew too large. Their panes were slightly fogged from the warmth inside, meeting the chill of the early snowfall.

Why am I here again? Right… He sighed, feeling a tad childish. I’m hiding from Mom and the scurrying townsfolk. Why is everyone so frantic? I guess I wasn’t fully listening… Dire bear could swallow me in… No! Don’t get distracted by the bear. Focus!

Climbing up the well-traveled, wooden stairs to reach the next floor, he rubbed away the thin layer of fog over the windows to peer outside. He frowned upon seeing the thick white flakes falling onto the rich green grass outside; if he remembered right, it would be going into hibernation soon as fall’s rapid approach took the town.

The view of the expansive manor grounds opened up, now covered in a thin blanket of snow that sparkled in the fading light of evening. The pine trees, tall and sturdy, stood as silent sentinels within the tall walls, their branches heavy with the first snowfall of the season.

He jumped as one of the upper doors swung open to the hallway that connected the grand hall to the main manor; a few large facilities were connected to allow for ease of movement indoors during the winter months.

Old Merek walked in. If he remembered right, Merek had been the head servant who had been with the family forever; he’d been saved from the gallows by his grandfather, or so the story went.

“That’s right, we want the best food brought out and set at the head of the table…”

Victor watched from beside the upper window, hand tightening around his wooden sword as Merek hustled in. He directed the other serfs selected to support his mother, his voice calm and authoritative. He paused once spotting him, a few giggles followed from two of the younger girls from the town as they brought in fancy platters of food.

“It’s going to be a small gathering, but one that has everything Frostholm has to offer… Young Lord?”

He offered a sheepish smile in return, unsure what to do in this situation. “Sorry.”

“Young Lord,” Merek said with a strained laugh, stepping to the side with him as the girls went to place their food. 

Merek was a tall, lean man with a lined face and silver hair. His eyes were sharp and kind, always finding time to offer Victor a smile or a piece of advice. He had a special knack for making even the grandest of occasions feel personal and warm. The elder gave him his first wooden sword as a gift, in fact, and had shared countless stories about the manor and its history, though the details escaped his young mind at the moment.

“Your mother has been as black as a storm cloud since you slipped Constable Mathis’ eye. We don’t have much time left. I’d suggest finding her soon unless you want punishment.”

Victor took a deep breath and nodded; it was hard to focus his 5-year-old brain, but his 28-year-old soldier’s mind was slowly adapting by the year to merge with his new identity, not that his child-like brain wanted to cooperate at times.

“Thank you, Merek,” he said with a short, abashed laugh, surprised how easy it was to speak in this world’s language due to growing up with it. In fact, how had he understood his parents when he’d been a newborn? There were so many odd things to explore. “I completely forgot why I ran away in the first place. Where…might I find her—ouch!”

“In your room with Lady Elara,” Merek answered, moving over and bending down to prompt his hand open. “You’ve got splinters and sores again from playing too long with that sword, Young Lord. Make sure to show this to your mother so she can heal it.”

“Yes, sir,” Victor mumbled, his eyes following some of the towns girls that were charged with helping them today. Had he seen them before? Everyone looked fairly well groomed. “I’ll go to her now.”

The fourteen-year-olds moved quickly, dusting, polishing, and arranging furniture to ensure everything was perfect for…something. Breaking away, he heard gossip about the special guest room being prepared with extra care. The rich velvet drapes, royal blue and rare, were being hung, and the finest linens were being placed on the bed with the steel-beak swan feather pillows.

He proceeded through the second-floor hallway, staring out of the foggy windows. His reflection caught in one, causing him to pause. He looked fairly handsome for a 5-year-old, with ocean blue eyes and thick, dark brown hair that was currently ruffled and messy; of course, his face was dirty, being a rough-playing young boy. Hopefully, his mental clarity would continue until the end of this gathering, for his mother’s sake.

Continuing on to the main manor, he passed by the busy, elegantly decorated guest room, which usually was fairly minimal. The room smelled faintly of pine with juniper branches and berries hung on the wall. He also caught the scent of sea buckthorn berries and leaves, providing a citrusy, tart smell that refreshed and energized. A calming scent that Victor associated with his mother’s touch.

He gulped upon reaching his and Elara’s room. Lady Anna Winterhart, his mother, was a giant, striking figure amidst the chaos. She moved with a grace that commanded attention, her auburn hair tied back in a neat braid. Her dress, a deep green, complemented her fiery locks and added a touch of warmth to her unusually stern demeanor.

Despite the tension in the air, she managed to maintain a calm exterior, instructing the servants with precision. His little twin was right beside her, hands on her hips and mirroring their mother to perfection, often looking up to see what expression their mother was making.

“We only have a short time before Alden returns from the docks. Make sure the fire is lit well; the Emperor is not accustomed to our weather, and we don’t want to force him to channel a ruby the entire time he is here to stay comfortable,” she said, her voice steady. “And the linens must be spotless. If the Empress is with him, she will expect nothing but the best.”

The key term being ‘Empress’ there, Mother? He internally hummed, trying to get a better sense of what was happening. Will the Emperor not mind?

I haven’t learned enough about the empire to have a full understanding of our place in it… I suppose tutoring will begin on that soon. At least I do know who Emperor Lucius Valerius is, and it would be a big deal to travel to this dangerous place. Oh, she spotted me.

“Victor! Where have you… Again?” she sighed as he opened his palms with a strained smile to show his bleeding hands.

“Sorry.”

“No. I understand. Come here and let me see.” Her face softened to her typical warm glow. She hurried forward with Elara by her side, face full of concern as she hopped up and down beside their mother. “I swear to the Fire, you’ve been relentless with that sword… Is it the nightmares again?”

“Does it hurt?” Elara asked, bright green eyes beginning to water just seeing the dried blood on his palm and ripped skin. She gripped her thick, braided hair in worry, the same color as their mother’s. “Do you see the scary yellow men with the fire in their eyes? I think I saw them last night, too, Mom; in our closet—they’re real!”

The women and men moving around them smiled at the break in their mistress’ activity while continuing to follow previously given orders. Their mother tenderly ran her fingers over his palm, and Victor’s eyes locked onto a teardrop, emerald pendant the size of a walnut hanging around his mother’s throat. She touched it, and the gemstone illuminated. Soothing relief flooded into his palm, the green light mending his cuts, the splinters being pushed out by an invisible force.

“There’s no need to lie for your brother, Elara. Things don’t need to be real to be frightening or harmful… How does that feel?” she asked, showing white, pearly teeth while her hand shifted to pat his twin’s head.

“B-But I… I’m sorry, Mom,” she sniffed, hugging her. “I just don’t like seeing Big Brother scared. He helped me catch a butterfly today… Why do they always leave when the snow comes? I want to see them fly in the pretty snow.”

Victor just stared at his beautiful mother, awestruck by what he’d just witnessed; it hadn’t been the first time seeing her ability to channel the healing and vitality powers of emeralds, but the first time when in a moment of clarity with his partially unlocked mind. Emeralds were uncommon in the empire.

“Lost your tongue again? And you’re usually so lively,” their mother chuckled, accepting a wet cloth from a woman to clean his cheeks, not showing any of the stern, all-business attitude she’d projected before. “We can talk about butterflies in a bit, Elara. Right now, can you help mommy get your dress and bow out?”

“Mhm!” His sister’s head bobbed with glee. “Vic, Vic, help me open the drawer—it’s hard! See… Ugh!”

Victor jogged after his sister to help as his mother rose to talk to one of the women, reporting on the progress of the food and other items. Apparently, the Emperor had decided to surprise them with a visit, sending a courier who arrived two days prior. It was just before the frost, which wasn’t a time nobility would come to Winterholm, much less the most important figure in their known world.

Victor knew his mother was under immense pressure as he continued to listen and help his little sister look cute. It had been twenty-two years since the Emperor last visited Winterhart Manor—when his mother was five—and much had changed since then.

His grandfather, Sir Reginald Winterhart, had been in the previous emperor’s royal guard as an imperial knight before being granted the whole of the Frostholm region. It had been given with the expectation he’d expand the frontier within the Winterhold Kingdom.

Victor looked at many of the decorative pieces of art around his room as he let his mother return to fuss over both of them. He could feel the warmth, love, and respect from their serfs that were more or less freemen under his parents, each one having a connection to their family’s history.

Though imperial knights were legally no different than normal knights, unofficially, they were basically given the same social standing of a baron or baroness. They were the best knights in all the Six Kingdoms, and their martial prowess was only one of their many legendary aspects, or so he remembered from his mother’s bedtime stories. His mother had her own secrets, as well.

Listening in on conversations between his father and mother earlier this year, Victor recalled hearing about the interesting tale of how their mother and father grew up together. It all started with Queen Samantha Fairthorn, monarch of the Kingdom of Winterhold.

She’d been what they called an ‘Otherworlder’ and that had spiked his interest; she’d been like Elara and him. His parents didn’t seem to suspect they were Otherworlders, though, and he wasn’t sure if he should tell them after hearing the story.

Queen Samantha had assassinated the previous emperor. It was a blemish on all of the imperial knights’ spotless record and the Winterhold Kingdom itself. Yet once the next emperor was crowned, Emperor Lucius, he didn’t punish them for failing to defend his father but instead gave in to Sir Reginald’s request, which didn’t make much sense to Victor at the time.

Now under the clarity of his partially awakened 28-year-old brain, he saw things differently. Victor looked up into his mother’s kind, emerald eyes, reflecting the glint of the pendant she wore, surrounded by six pebble-sized rubies that she could channel for warmth; a wedding gift from their father, and Victor’s child-like mind wandered into a new thought train, trying to recall the details of their story.

The whole Fairthorn line was to be executed and the throne handed over to her cousin, our current king…the Frostveil line. Yet, instead, Grandpa asked if Princess Anna, then three-years-old, would be given to him to raise as his son’s future bride. Dad was…five at the time? Yeah, and the emperor agreed, on condition he slay the northern frost drake before the marriage would be solidified. If he couldn’t…mother would die at the age of sixteen. There has to be more to that story…

How a knight’s son married a princess. Elara talks about it a lot… He looked over at his excited twin sister, spinning in front of a mirror to examine their mother’s handiwork as many of the towns women complimented her. Does she remember anything from our previous world? It’s still hard for me to picture anything but the war… Nothing about my childhood. Maybe I should bring up this story tonight to see if it sparks anything in her… If my clarity continues, that is.

Dressing much on his own to the pride of his thrilled mother and the impressed whispers of her hand-selected team, he did his best to help her while deep in thought.

Grandpa founded this stronghold to the furthest north a town could function… No, it shouldn’t function at all here, but he found a way. Somehow, he got a lot of initial financial and material support from the Emperor. I don’t get the logic. Is it because my brain hasn’t developed that far yet?

Victor studied the thick stone walls, lined with wood and showing the skill of their craftsmen, all of which came from either the Imperial Heartland or the Winterhold capital, Frostveil Keep, to support their saved princess.

Did Grandpa have something on the Emperor…or was it friendship or respect since he helped tutor him? If this is my life now, I need to understand where we came from. Grandpa basically led a mission to conquer the inhospitable Frostholm region, and carried it on his back. Did he do it for Mom or is there something more to it?

Still, it took him thirteen years to kill the ice drake, fighting it back each year during the winter… He lost his right arm on the twelfth encounter.

Victor looked up at a painting his mother had done of her hero. The grizzled, hardened man never wore a smile in any artwork, but his mother swore he always smiled at her, the same as his father, through and through. The thought made him smile a little while seeing the half-frozen legend, standing over the felled drake. His dad did like to frown, but he smiled occasionally.

Reportedly, it was more than ten meters tall when standing, thirty-five meters in length, and with a wingspan of forty-five meters; it was a terrifying lizard—practically a mini B-29 Superfortress, and it wasn’t even one of the legendary dragons talked about in his old world, if those even existed here.

His father, then sixteen, had sent back the body to the Emperor as proof, and took control of his father’s duties. Two years later, he’d taken his mother as his bride—marriage was young in this world due to mortality rates, often at fourteen for serf girls.

Nobility had greater leniency and customs on age, though. He was somewhat impressed with himself with how much information he had retained regarding that. Part of the reason was the dread of his young mind, looking toward his tenth birthday, when it was expected to have fiancée talks, mostly handled by the lady of the house.

I only have a vague recollection of my Earth parents at this point, mostly thoughts I had during the war, and they weren’t happy ones. But my parents here…they’re everything I could have asked for. Life is so much harsher here…yet I think I prefer it.

Terrifying northern creatures with mystical powers, like the Sunfire Eagle that I swear I saw outside the window last month… Two to three meter tall eagles that can generate fire. Still, they’re nothing compared to Dad’s control over fire… This world is wild.

He studied the quilt on the wall, depicting his grandfather’s greatness. I doubt Gramps could have fought the drake a fourteenth time, and so he put his life on the line to open the way for his son to take over…and Dad has certainly made strides since then now that the invincible drake is taken care of.

Victor got ready to greet the Emperor in the grand hall, standing beside his sister as their mother did final checks and ran them through what to do. His heart melted as Elara’s trembling hand reached over to take his for comfort; she probably was feeling the stress of their mother and didn’t know how to help her.

As everything started to settle down, and the banquet was prepared, it became deathly quiet. Talk amongst the serfs was that the weather had probably made the journey from the docks slower since it was three kilometers to the west, along the fortified road. His thoughts drifted to his father and what little he could piece together from his early life as the tension grew, his sister’s hand squeezing tighter.

However, to Victor, he felt a surge of pride thinking about his dad; the man was only a year older than he was in his previous world, twenty-nine, and he’d accomplished so much in that time. He could see this town becoming like his company back in the war as he grew to learn about each member of the community…he had a family that cared for him. It showed when the night terrors of those blood-soaked battlefields returned to his young mind.

Occasionally, the pattering of rain brought back the scent of gunpowder and the thunder of artillery shells. The nightmares were real, but getting less frequent now, and during these moments of clarity, it filled him with a sense of his military training and leadership.

He figured they’d only grow more vivid as he got older. His early childhood had been filled with basic education under the watchful eye of his mother. He learned reading, writing, and arithmetics of this world, and his natural curiosity often led him to explore the many nooks and crannies of Winterhart Manor. He was excited to venture out more into the town.

The grand hall, with its tapestries and trophies, told him stories of the outside; it had always been his favorite place to play, studying the artwork of his grandfather and imagining himself as a great warrior. Now, he was basically going to meet the president of the United States…only for life.

Victor shifted uneasily, trying to stay still as his mother had instructed. The previous hustle of the grand hall was now still as newly fallen snow. At last, the time arrived.

Their giant double doors creaked open, drawing Victor's attention. His father opened the way, Justin, his 2nd in command on the opposite side. Right ahead, smack dab in the middle of the small escort was not what Victor had expected of Emperor Lucius Valerius.

The Emperor stepped inside, around his forties, with a soft, almost delicate clean-shaven appearance that made him look more like a politician. He wore a gentle smile that seemed out of place for a man of his stature, and the man’s neatly-groomed auburn hair was darker than Elara and their mother’s.

His features were refined, lacking any rugged, weathered look Victor associated with warriors…with the leaders of his hardened, icy town. He almost felt silly about what his young brain had pictured.

Behind him, three soldiers followed nothing short of legendary in their bearing: two men and a woman. Each one exuded an aura of formidable power and skill.

They wore intricate armor, adorned with unique symbols and embedded gemstones, carrying weapons that seemed almost too grand to be real. One man had a massive broadsword strapped to his back, the woman bore a spear that glowed faintly from the topaz inserted into its design, and the third carried a pair of curved blades that gleamed wickedly with shadows.

Two male servants trailed behind, struggling under the weight of enormous bags. And then there was the fourth figure, a man in chains, looking thin and bedraggled, with ratty hair and a placid expression. His presence seemed to cast a tension over the grand hall that somehow overshadowed the legendary knights, but it was the second woman in the party beside the chained man who drew most eyes.

“Ah! It looks like you’ve got everything prepared for us, and that emerald-enhanced steam!” the Emperor chimed, breathing in the vapor. “The health benefits and vitality this treasure is… Impossible to make artificially; we’ve tried! The North truly is wondrous. And what a delight you are, Princess Anna!”

Red flags instantly put Victor guard up, his military mind and instincts going into overdrive as he noticed a flicker of shock and dread crossed his mother’s face upon seeing the black-dressed woman, shrouded from scrutiny by a veil; his mother was typically a mask of serenity, but something had spooked her.

Almost instantly, she recomposed herself before performing a formal curtsy, yet her gaze slid from him to the veiled woman behind the Emperor. “Your Imperial Majesty…welcome to Winterhart Manor, and I apologize, but I am no longer the princess of Winterhold, Your Grace. I am merely the wife to your loyal knight and steward.”

“Too humble, Princess,” the Emperor laughed, waving off her formalities with a cheerful hum while examining the interior. “Please, Lady Anna, none of that. I’m tired of the food I’ve had on my ship… Hmm. It appears your prince has been doing well if you look so healthy. And here I heard troubling news that you fell ill during your pregnancy. Was I misinformed?”

“You honor me, Your Imperial Majesty,” his father returned as the Emperor walked to the side, surveying the decorations. “Lady Anna had a difficult pregnancy but she is the strongest woman I know. There is nothing to be concerned about,” he added, shooting a look to his wife that Victor didn’t think dissuaded her uncharacteristic break in formal etiquette.

“Indeed, Princess Anna is quite the woman…an observant woman, and one with a heart of gold, or so I hear… She has certainly blossomed since the last time I saw her all those years ago—five, weren’t you? Bah. Come in, everyone! No need for such stiffness. You’re letting the hot air out,” he laughed.

Victor’s hands tightened into fists at his side while staring at his stoic father, who offered a bow as the emperor’s entourage followed him inside. Something wasn’t right, and it all stemmed from the look he saw from his parents’ meeting eyes; his father was silently telling her it was fine, but in that split-second interaction, she didn’t appear convinced.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she calmly stated, her focus sweeping past the legendary imperial knights that flanked the Emperor to the unusually dressed woman and chained man behind them, “but may I inquire why the most decorated imperial knight in the empire’s history is in chains…and the need for the Silent Inquisition to be in attendance?”

The name hit Victor like a lightning bolt, triggering fragmented memories from his mother’s bedtime tales. His gaze locked onto the intimidating inquisitor, her fluid grace as she stepped inside, snow clinging to her austere, black robes and veil. He couldn’t tell her age due to being completely covered, but her figure suggested a young woman.

The Silent Inquisition... The channelers of the incredibly rare amethysts, which can manipulate minds. And did she say that scraggly homeless man in chains is the greatest imperial knight in history? What is going on?

The clanking of chains followed the bound man beside the inquisitor, his expression emotionless. The emperor glanced back at the veiled figure, a thoughtful hum rumbling in his throat as he shifted to face the gathering. Victor’s father moved to join his wife, a somber crease now falling over his face, increasing the tension in the air.

“Ah, my little Nyxie here? You don’t need to be frightened, Anna,” Lucius said, his voice warm while rubbing his hairless chin. “I’m not here to lop any heads off or go browsing through anyone’s minds—I’m just curious is all! Well, I guess you two were trained by Sir Reginald, after all. I’m satisfied.”

He nodded towards the blindfolded woman with a playful grin, as if the situation were entirely ordinary. Time slowed in Victor’s eyes. He blinked, and the clash of steel met his ears, the blur of movement around him—in a blink, the three imperial knights were in front of them, and the bodies of every serf, including the incredibly powerful Constable Mathas, fell to the ground, headless.

What... Victor’s five-year-old brain struggled to keep up. More clashes of steel followed in swift succession with a blaze of heat. When he turned to look behind him, all he saw was his father’s broken black blade, still held in his hand, as the female knight’s spear pierced his father and mother through the hearts. It had happened in seconds. What just happened?

Emperor Lucius walked over to them as Elara’s legs collapsed, his little twin sister starting to hyperventilate. The sound of clashing steel remained in the air as the emperor leaned forward with a gentle smile and rubbed his head; he smacked it away on instinct, putting himself in front of Elara. The man’s laugh was tinted with pain as the imperial knights cleaned their blades of blood.

“Your dad truly is a hero for having blocked five attacks from Kris before his sword failed him. Impressive! Hmm… I just needed you two to understand the weight of my visit.” His cheerful and non-threatening eyes hollowed to a face that had seen endless tragedies as he straightened. “Welcome to our planet, Otherworlders. Victor, come talk to me when everyone goes to sleep. I’ll be here waiting…and don’t worry, your little sister won’t remember any of this in a few minutes.”

An ethereal silver aura surrounded the emperor, and a nova of light enveloped them.

Victor almost tripped as he felt as if he’d fallen through space. Blinking, he found himself in the grand hall, his stiff twin sister beside him, standing again…and his mother’s concerned voice followed.

“Victor, Elara…what’s wrong? Why do you two suddenly look ill—Elara?”

Stunned, he looked up into her green eyes.

“Mommy!” His sister let go of his hand to cling to her leg and started to cry. “You’re okay, Mommy! You’re not hurt? I-I had a bad dream!”

“What? No, of course, I’m okay, sweetie,” she whispered with a soft smile, kneeling down to pull her close as Mathis came in from the side door. “Shhh. Remember, we need to be on our best behavior for when the emperor arrives. Sir Mathis, check if they’re here yet. Are you okay, Victor?”

Victor’s jaw tightened with his fists as he stared at his very alive mother. I froze… No, did it happen? Was it a weird daydream? No… It happened. It all happened too fast, though. I couldn’t even follow it…

His mother’s face became more serious as the military high officer jogged to the window and signaled that the emperor was coming. “Alright, children. Remember, be strong—”

“Uh, My Lady,” the serf reported, drawing her mother’s gaze. “The emperor is with a strangely dressed lady…it’s kind of hard to make out through the snow.”

Their mother straightened. “Black robes, trimmed with silver—does she have the symbol of interlocking rings sewn onto the breast and a veil?” she quickly inquired, tone turning serious.

“I believe so, My Lady…”

Her eyes narrowed. “The Silent Inquisition… Darlings, if you hear a voice in your heads, don’t be afraid,” she encouraged, pulling them close to press her forehead against theirs as Elara kept sniffling, unable to express what both of them had just experienced—time travel or a vision of the future. “You cannot lie to the Silent Ones, so answer everything truthfully.”

She showed a bright, reassuring smile that betrayed what both of them had just experienced. “Everything will be okay.”

Victor fought down his squirming belly, narrowed eyes fixating on the door as their mother continued to comfort Elara. Without a doubt, the Emperor knows we aren’t of this world and that we’re smarter than typical five-year-olds. We are the reason for his arrival, and Emperor Lucius wants us to know it.

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Now I'll Start Adding +4 Advanced Patreon Chapters before releasing more public. Let me know if you like the start of the series! o7 It's a fun one to plan and write.

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