Snowland slept beneath heavy snowfall. Cold wind swept across the fortress walls while torches flickered weakly against the endless white stretching beyond the castle grounds. Most of the servants had already retired for the night. Even the guards atop the walls stood quieter than usual beneath the deep northern cold.
But inside the Woodland castle, Edmond could not rest. He stood near the window of his chamber staring into the dark courtyard below. His arms remained folded tightly behind his back while his thoughts churned endlessly.
Newton had not come. The weekend was already ending. Still no sign of him.
Edmond's jaw tightened. For years, no matter the weather, no matter the training, no matter the exhaustion, Newton always returned. Sometimes late. Sometimes barely able to keep his eyes open. But he returned.
Always.
This time, nothing. Not even a message.
Edmond turned away from the window sharply and began pacing the room again. "What is going on with him?" he muttered. The words carried more frustration than anger.
Then darker thoughts began pushing forward again. Has he been injured? Has something happened at the monastery? Has someone discovered…? Edmond stopped himself immediately before he could complete the thought.
His chest tightened. "No." He shook his head quickly as though rejecting the thought physically. "That has to be the reason."
He exhaled heavily and dragged one hand across his face. "There is no way Newton would miss this willingly."
The chamber door opened softly behind him. Lady Bianca stepped inside wearing a heavy fur robe against the cold. Warm candlelight followed her into the room as she studied her husband carefully.
One look at Edmond's face and her expression changed immediately. "What is going on with you, my dear?"
Edmond did not answer immediately. He kept pacing.
Bianca watched him for another moment before walking further into the chamber. Then finally he spoke. "Newton failed to show up this weekend."
The frustration beneath his voice had become sharper now.
Bianca blinked once. "That is all?"
Edmond stopped walking immediately and turned toward her. "That is all?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "He has never missed before."
Bianca gave a small sigh and walked toward the table near the fire. "Newton has his own life now, Edmond."
She poured herself wine calmly before facing him again. "He is no longer a child hiding inside this castle."
Edmond's expression remained hard. "He is a knight of the monastery now."
"That changes nothing," Edmond snapped immediately.
The force behind his words surprised even Bianca slightly.
Edmond stepped closer now. "No matter what he becomes, he is still my son."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Edmond's voice lowered afterward, though the tension inside it only deepened. "And I know Newton." He pointed toward the door as though the boy stood outside it. "He would never fail to return unless something beyond his control happened."
Bianca studied him carefully. Then she took a slow sip from the wine before answering. "Perhaps the grand master refused him permission to leave."
The possibility struck Edmond silent for a moment. He considered it seriously. Aemon could be strict when necessary. But after several seconds, Edmond slowly shook his head again.
"No." His answer came quieter this time. "Uncle Aemon is not that kind of man."
Bianca walked toward him slowly until she stood directly before him. Her hand rested gently against his chest. "Relax, my dear." Her voice softened deliberately. "You are frightening yourself over nothing." She smiled faintly. "The boy is fine."
But Edmond's expression only darkened further. Because the more Bianca tried calming him, the worse the feeling inside him became.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. Not logically, but instinctively. The same instinct that had kept him alive through wars, betrayals, and northern politics all these years now screamed at him without pause.
Newton was not where he was supposed to be. And that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
Bianca's hand still rested against his chest when Edmond suddenly stepped away from her.
The movement startled her slightly. He grabbed his heavy cloak from the chair beside the fire and fastened it quickly around his shoulders.
Bianca frowned immediately. "What are you doing?" Edmond ignored the question and moved toward the chamber door. "I cannot remain here."
The tension inside his voice had become absolute now.
Bianca stared at him in disbelief.
"You are serious?"
Edmond paused near the doorway before finally turning back toward her. His eyes looked colder now. More resolved. "I am going to the monastery."
Bianca blinked once. "What?"
"I will find out what happened myself." Then he turned again and strode out of the chamber without waiting for another response. The door slammed shut behind him.
For several seconds, Bianca remained standing there in complete silence. Then slowly, disbelief spread across her face. "He would abandon Snowland in the middle of winter..."
She stared toward the closed door. "All because a bastard failed to appear for a haircut?" The irritation inside her voice sharpened quickly.
She let out another frustrated hiss and folded her arms tightly.
"I swear, no matter how many years I spend with Edmond Woodland, I will never fully understand that man."
Outside, Edmond moved quickly through the castle halls. Servants bowed and stepped aside immediately as he passed, though several exchanged confused glances at the sight of their lord moving through the fortress fully armed this late at night.
Snow blasted across the open courtyard the moment he stepped outside. His boots crushed heavily against the frozen ground as he crossed toward the barracks.
The cold barely touched him. His thoughts remained fixed entirely on Newton. Every missed weekend before now suddenly returned to him as possibilities he had never considered seriously enough.
What if someone had noticed? What if the hair had begun growing?
What if.. "No." Edmond's jaw clenched again. He refused to let the thoughts continue.
Lord Martins emerged from the barracks moments later after spotting Edmond approaching through the snow.
The older commander hurried forward and bowed quickly. "My lord."
Edmond wasted no time. "Prepare two hundred men."
Martins looked up immediately. "We ride for the monastery at once."
The commander's brows furrowed deeply. "At once?"
"Yes."
The sharpness in Edmond's answer left little room for hesitation. Still, confusion spread openly across Martins' face now.
The monastery?
With two hundred armed men? At night?
"My lord…" Martins hesitated carefully. "What exactly is happening?"
Edmond stared toward the snowy darkness beyond the walls before answering. "Newton failed to return this weekend."
Martins blinked once.
"That is why?"
Edmond turned toward him sharply. "I do not feel right about it."
The commander quickly controlled his expression. Years of service beneath Edmond had taught him when not to laugh openly.
Still, this was absurd.
Two hundred soldiers marching toward the monastery because Newton missed a shaving appointment?
Martins lowered his head respectfully. "Your command will be obeyed immediately, my lord."
Edmond nodded once. Then he turned away and continued toward the stables without another word. The moment he disappeared into the snowfall, Martins remained standing there silently for several seconds.
Then finally he exhaled sharply. Soft laughter escaped him despite himself. The men beside him looked over curiously. Martins shook his head slowly. "Who marches two hundred soldiers toward the monastery…"
Another laugh escaped him. "…simply because his grown bastard failed to appear for a simple haircut?"
Several nearby guards chuckled quietly. But the amusement faded quickly once they remembered who they were speaking about.
Edmond Woodland was not a man ruled by foolish panic. If he felt something was wrong strongly enough to ride through winter snow toward the monastery personally.
Then perhaps something truly was wrong after all. And suddenly, the cold night did not feel quite as harmless anymore.