The Northern Kingdom dominated the mountains like an eternal presence.
Immense.
The gray stone walls rose directly from the cliffs, following the natural contours of the rock as if they had never been built by human hands.
Tall towers pierced the mist.
Monumental bridges connected platforms suspended over deep ravines.
Wide stairways disappeared between successive walls, leading to ever higher levels of the city.
Nothing in that place felt improvised.
Every block of stone carried the feeling of having been placed exactly where it was meant to remain.
The capital did not occupy the mountain.
It was part of it.
Stone houses spread across the lower terraces while the glow of the forges escaped through the chimneys, mixing with the cold vapor descending from the snow-covered peaks.
The movement of the markets spread through the narrow streets.
Blacksmiths struck heated anvils.
Soldiers crossed the avenues in disciplined patrols.
Life.
But a life shaped by winter.
The higher the eyes climbed, the more imposing the city became.
The lower districts gave way to barracks, arsenals, and administrative buildings.
Above them rose mansions belonging to the ancient Houses of the North, protected by newer walls and watchtowers.
At the highest point of all—
stood the royal fortress.
Majestic.
Silent.
Built upon the very summit of the mountain as if it watched every valley, every road, and every border of the kingdom.
Its towers vanished into the snow and low clouds.
Its walls seemed to defy time.
There was no excess of gold.
No extravagant ornamentation.
The grandeur of that place was born from the stone itself.
From discipline.
From permanence.
The freezing wind crossed the ravines and made the great banners raised upon the highest walls ripple.
The ivory-white fabric stood out against the gray sky, marked by the colossal figure of a white dragon stretching across almost its entire length.
Golden veins ran through the creature's scales like ancient lines of power, while a golden circle rested behind its head, making its golden eyes seem to silently watch the lands below.
Even from a distance, it was impossible to ignore the impression the city left behind.
It did not feel like a kingdom raised to conquer the continent.
It felt like a kingdom built to survive its own end.
The cold made every breath visible.
The knight advanced through the corridors of the royal fortress with firm steps.
His boots echoed across the ancient stone.
Guards remained motionless along the path.
None of them spoke.
The very silence of that place seemed to be part of the North's discipline.
At the end of the corridor, the great doors of the royal hall were already open.
The knight stopped.
Took a single deep breath.
And entered.
The hall was vast.
Stone columns rose until they disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling.
Great banners bearing the white dragon hung from the walls.
At the far end—
upon the black stone throne—
sat the king.
The knight immediately knelt.
Head lowered.
Fist closed against his chest.
"May the roots bow before Your Majesty, King Vaelrion Níðhael."
Silence answered for a moment.
Heavy.
As if the hall itself awaited permission to breathe.
Then the voice came.
Calm.
Deep.
"May the North remain firm."
The knight did not move.
Did not speak.
Only waited.
"Speak."
The knight slightly raised his face.
Without daring to look directly at the throne.
"We received a message from the scouts positioned around Arkhel."
"They confirmed the movement of the royal escort."
A brief pause.
"Your Majesty, the queen will return to the kingdom within a few days."
Vaelrion did not answer immediately.
The knight remained motionless.
Then he heard the sound.
A single tap.
The king's fingers against the armrest of the throne.
"What an inconvenient coincidence."
The words came out low.
Almost thoughtful.
The knight dared raise his eyes.
Only enough.
Long black hair fell over Vaelrion's shoulders like a dark cascade.
Golden veins ran across the pale skin of his neck.
Glowing softly beneath the torchlight.
And the eyes...
Golden.
Deep.
The vertical pupils resembled those of a creature much older than any man.
For a moment, the knight felt the weight of that gaze.
The air seemed to grow denser.
The torch flames flickered.
Instinctively.
As if they recognized something.
As if they knew before whom they burned.
Vaelrion's gaze remained on the knight for another moment.
"Continue monitoring the route."
The voice came calm.
Unquestionable.
"I want to be informed the moment the escort crosses the last border."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The knight bowed his head even lower.
"Is there anything else?"
Silence answered first.
"No."
Vaelrion looked away.
"You are dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The knight brought his fist to his chest.
Bowed one final time.
And stepped back toward the doors of the hall.
At the far end, upon the black stone throne, Vaelrion remained motionless.
One hand supported his own face.
His index finger rested against his temple.
Golden eyes observed the figure advancing slowly through the center of the hall.
Unhurried.
Without hesitation.
Black hair fell past the shoulders.
Long.
Well-kept.
Golden veins discreetly crossed pale skin, glowing beneath the torchlight.
The same vertical pupils marked the gaze.
The white robes were adorned with discreet golden details.
Without excess.
Under one arm, he carried a carefully organized set of documents.
Upon reaching the appropriate distance from the throne, he knelt.
Fist closed against his chest.
Head lowered.
"May the roots bow before Your Majesty, King Vaelrion Níðhael."
Silence answered for a moment.
The king's voice crossed the hall.
Calm.
Deep.
"May the North remain firm."
The man remained kneeling.
Motionless.
Waiting.
Vaelrion's gaze remained upon him for a few seconds.
Observing.
Evaluating.
"Tell me, Cassian."
The voice remained serene.
Unshakable.
"What was so important that it justified two months of silence?"
Cassian rose slowly.
The documents slid into one hand as he adjusted his posture.
Golden eyes met the king's.
"During the last two months, I gathered additional information..."
"Beyond what was provided by the prince."
His gaze briefly lowered to the papers.
"Some confirm what we already knew."
Cassian turned to the next document.
"The ones from Tricórdio..."
"Those are significantly more interesting."
Vaelrion's eyes did not move.
"Continue."
"The records confirm that the missing princess was in the Northern Barony."
His fingers adjusted one of the documents.
"The problem is that the later records present an unexpected conclusion."
"According to the records obtained by Cedric..."
"the princess was dead."
Cassian slowly closed the document.
"And not only her."
"The child as well."
Vaelrion's gaze narrowed for the first time.
"Explain."
"There is nothing else to explain."
A brief pause.
"The records regarding the barony end at that point."
"They only confirm that both died years ago."
"If those records are correct, the princes' existence should not be possible."
Cassian pulled out another document.
"The problem is that this was not the only inconsistency found."
His fingers slid across the report.
"The records indicate movements connected to the Central Kingdom."
"Agents crossed Tricórdio several times using the same contacts."
"All of them were investigating the same matter."
"The missing heirs."
Cassian waited for the king's response.
"And the source?"
"Cedric confirmed the records through multiple sources in Tricórdio."
"He found no discrepancies."
Vaelrion remained silent.
His fingers slowly touched the armrest of the throne.
Tap.
Before he could answer—
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.
Cassian turned his eyes toward the entrance.
Vaelrion did the same.
A figure advanced through the central corridor.
Unhurried.
Without hesitation.
Dark, thick furs protected the body from the North's cold.
The heavy cloak rested upon the shoulders in the same manner as the ancient lords of the mountains.
Pale skin contrasted against the dark garments.
Black hair, short and slightly disheveled, fell to the nape in uneven strands.
And the eyes...
Purple.
Deep.
Fixed.
Upon the two men watching him from the other side of the hall.
Vaelrion's fingers slowly touched the armrest of the throne.
Tap.
Tap.
"Interesting."
The voice came out low.
Thoughtful.
"Very interesting."
Éreon stopped before the throne.
Knelt.
Fist closed against his chest.
"May the roots bow before Your Majesty, King Vaelrion Níðhael."
Silence answered.
Long.
Golden eyes remained upon him.
Observing.
Evaluating.
As if searching for something.
Or confirming something.
The king's voice crossed the hall.
Calm.
Deep.
"'Prince' Éreon."
A brief pause.
"I do not recall requesting your presence."
A faint smile appeared on Éreon's face.
He rose slowly.
Purple eyes slid toward Cassian.
The disgust written across his face was difficult to ignore.
Éreon's smile widened only slightly.
He looked back at the king.
"I imagined Your Majesty had already obtained all the answers you considered necessary."
Silence hovered for a moment.
Vaelrion's eyes remained upon him.
Impassive.
"Answers tend to create new questions."
"I would imagine so."
Éreon slightly inclined his head.
"Especially when the records insist on contradicting reality."
Cassian remained motionless.
His eyes narrowed discreetly.
Vaelrion did not look away.
"Did you come only to comment on my men's work?"
"No."
Éreon walked a few steps through the hall.
Unhurried.
"I heard that Her Majesty the queen will return soon."
For the first time, something akin to interest crossed Vaelrion's gaze.
"And where did you hear that?"
"I have my ways."
Silence returned.
Heavier this time.
One of the king's fingers touched the armrest of the throne.
Tap.
"I assume you did not come merely to inform me that you know how to listen to conversations."
Éreon's smile widened slightly.
"No."
Purple eyes met golden ones.
"I came because I believe this is a rare moment."
Neither of them looked away.
Cassian felt the weight of that silent exchange.
As if he were witnessing a conversation in which only half the words were spoken.
"Rare in what sense?"
"In the sense that certain balances, once broken, can never be restored."
Éreon answered calmly.
"And intelligent men prefer to choose where they will stand when that happens."
Vaelrion's fingers touched the armrest of the throne again.
Tap.
Tap.
"Continue."
"I discovered a few things during my visit to the Tirésias Marquisate."
A brief pause.
"And I learned one or two things from Baron Silvanis."
Vaelrion's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Silvanis is not known for sharing knowledge freely."
Éreon's smile widened only slightly.
"Perhaps he considered the investment acceptable."
One of the king's fingers found the armrest of the throne.
Tap.
"And what exactly did you learn?"
Purple eyes narrowed slightly.
"Enough to realize that not all power in this kingdom rests upon this throne."
Vaelrion's eyes remained upon him.
Silence took the hall.
Heavy.
Motionless.
Then—
Footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Firm.
Hurried.
A guard appeared at the entrance of the hall.
He immediately stopped upon noticing the three men present.
His eyes passed over Cassian.
Then found Éreon.
His expression faltered for a moment.
Only a moment.
Enough for confusion to emerge.
Soon he advanced.
Stopped before the throne.
Knelt.
His fist closed against his chest.
"May the roots bo—"
"Speak."
Vaelrion did not allow him to finish.
The guard hesitated.
His eyes briefly returned to Éreon.
As if he needed to confirm what he was seeing.
He took a deep breath.
"We received a report from the lower gates, Your Majesty."
"A young man bearing the prince's appearance was seen entering the city."
Vaelrion's fingers ceased moving.
A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
Almost invisible.
Golden eyes shifted toward Éreon.
"I hope they survive the winter, Prince."
A brief pause.
"Some enter this kingdom believing they understand its dangers."
Éreon's smile did not disappear.
His gaze fixed on Vaelrion for a brief instant.
"The problem is rarely the winter."
He turned away.
The heavy cloak followed the movement.
"It is what remains alive when it ends."
Footsteps echoed through the hall.
Slow.
Firm.
Without hesitation.
The guard remained kneeling.
Cassian watched Éreon walk away between the columns.
Until he disappeared beyond the gates.
Silence returned to the hall.
Cassian watched the entrance for a few seconds.
"Do you wish for me to follow him, Your Majesty?"
Vaelrion remained motionless upon the throne.
Golden eyes still turned toward the gates.
"Yes."
A brief pause.
"Problems and opportunities usually arrive through the same door."