After six long days of travel, the weary caravan finally approached the gates of Thornhold. The towering walls of the city loomed ahead, a welcome sight after the long, cold journey. Snow had begun to fall softly that morning, the first real sign of winter settling in. Flakes of white drifted down from the heavy gray clouds above, dusting the cobblestone streets and rooftops in a quiet, serene blanket.
Moren pulled her cloak tighter around her as they made their way through the city gates. The city's bustling activity greeted them, starkly contrasting with the quiet, empty roads they had traveled for days. Merchants, townsfolk, and guards moved about their business, undeterred by the snow that had begun to collect on the streets.
Veska, riding beside Moren, exhaled a long breath, her relief evident. "Finally. I was starting to think we'd never get here."
Jaycen, who had been watching over the caravan's rear, rode up beside them with a smile. "At least we beat the worst of the snow. Another day, and we might have been caught in that storm."
Ever the quiet one, Lucius gave a slight nod but said nothing, his eyes scanning the city streets with the same calm vigilance he always carried. The snowflakes clung to his hair and cloak, but he seemed unbothered by the cold.
The caravan stopped in the city square, where merchants began unloading their goods, and guards checked the wagons for any potential issues. Thornhold, always a busy hub of trade and travelers, was alive with activity, even as the snow fell in thicker waves. The group received their final payment for the escort to Thornhold and moved away from the scattering caravan.
Moren dismounted her horse, stretching her tired muscles as she took in the city's sights. The stone buildings and bustling market stalls gave off a feeling of warmth and familiarity despite the cold. She'd been to Thornhold before, but each visit brought with it a new sense of adventure and opportunity.
"We should find an inn," Jaycen suggested, patting his horse as he led it through the crowded streets. "Get warm, get some food, and maybe gather some information on the road ahead to White Stone."
Veska nodded eagerly, already eyeing the various inns that lined the square. "And maybe a real bed for once." She said with a sigh. "Don't get me wrong, the bed in the tent is nice, but the mattress needs to be replaced soon."
"Noted," Moren smiled. "We'll find a place soon. We've earned a little comfort after our journey."
As they moved through the city, the snow began to fall more heavily, creating a hushed atmosphere that muffled the usual clamor of Thornhold. Moren glanced back at the Fey Dog, who trotted alongside them, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Luna, perched on her shoulder, ruffled her feathers, occasionally glancing at the falling snow with a quiet hoot of interest.
They eventually found a cozy inn near the edge of the square, its warm glow inviting them in from the cold. As they entered, the warmth of the fire and the smell of hot food immediately enveloped them, a welcome reprieve from the icy weather outside.
Moren led the group to a table near the fire, where they all shed their cloaks and settled in, grateful for the heat. The innkeeper, a stout woman with a cheerful smile, approached with mugs of hot cider and bowls of hearty stew.
"Travelers from the road, eh?" she asked, setting down the food. "You made it just in time. The snow's only going to get worse from here on."
"We'll be heading to White Stone soon," Moren replied, taking a sip of the hot cider. "What's the news from the road ahead?" She could smell the cinnamon and a hint of vanilla coming from her drink.
The innkeeper frowned slightly, wiping her hands on her apron. "It's quiet... too quiet. The snows have kept most travelers off the road, and I've heard whispers of strange things in the wilds. I'd be careful if I were you."
Lucius leaned forward slightly and was always the one to pick up on trouble. "Strange things?" He asked the woman with great interest.
The innkeeper nodded. "Creatures moving through the forests—wolves, bandits, and worse. Some say they've seen shadows that disappear into the snow. No one knows what they are, but they've been scaring travelers off the road for days now." The woman shook her head. "Bad for business, especially with the weather keeping people from reaching us in both directions."
Moren exchanged a glance with Veska and Jaycen, their shared concern evident. The road to White Stone had never been easy, but it seemed the approaching winter had brought more than just snow.
"We'll be cautious," Moren said, her tone steady. "But we've dealt with worse." She gestured to her group to emphasize her point.
Lucius merely nodded his head. "I'll take a look around in the morning and see if I can find anything to validate the rumors." He said, crossing his arms. "Just to make sure everyone is safe here."
The innkeeper gave a small smile, though her eyes held a hint of worry. "I'm sure you will, love. Just be sure to stay warm. The cold's as much of an enemy as anything else on the road." She turned to look at Lucius. "See me after your meal, and I can give you all the details."
With that, the innkeeper left them to their meal, and the group fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire and the soft snowfall outside creating a sense of peace, if only for the moment. They knew the most challenging part of their journey still lay ahead, but for now, they had warmth, food, and each other.
7th of Winternight, 1806 (12/7)
After several days of rest at the inn, the snowstorm that had kept the group grounded in Thornhold finally began to ease. The relentless gray clouds gave way to pale blue skies, and the thick blanket of snow that had covered the streets now sparkled under the weak winter sunlight. The roads were still cold and icy, but the worst of the weather had passed, and it was time for Moren and her companions to make the final push toward White Stone.
Moren and Lucius went out a few times to look for any creatures around the city but came up empty. Their job was much easier, thanks to Luna flying overhead and Nox sniffing for trouble.
Moren stood by the window of their shared room, looking out at the snowy landscape. The soft glow of the morning light was a welcome change after days of being cooped up indoors, and she could feel the pull of the road calling her again. She glanced back at Veska, who was checking the straps on her gear, and at Jaycen, who was methodically reviewing the supplies they had purchased for the journey.
"It's time, isn't it?" Veska asked, a grin spreading across her face. She had grown restless during their days of recuperation, eager to be back on the move.
Moren nodded. "The weather's clear enough. We should head out before it turns again."
Jaycen stood up, stretching. "We're well-stocked, and the horses are rested. We should make White Stone in a few days if we keep a steady pace."
Lucius, leaning against the doorframe, gave a slight nod of agreement. "Let's not waste any more time. The road will still be rough, but it's manageable."
The Fey Dog, lying at Moren's feet, perked up at the sound of movement, its bright blue eyes gleaming with anticipation. Luna, perched on the bed's headboard, gave a soft hoot, her feathers ruffling in the cold draft that slipped through the cracks in the window.
With everything packed and ready, the group went downstairs to the inn's common room, where the innkeeper bid them farewell. "Safe travels, love," she said, her hands resting on her hips. "And remember what I told you—strange things have been happening on the road. Keep your wits about you."
Moren nodded, offering the woman a grateful smile. "We will. Thanks for everything."
Once outside, the cold air bit at their cheeks, but it was a welcome contrast to the confinement of the inn. The streets of Thornhold were still slick with ice, but the crowds had returned, and the hustle of the city was in full swing once more.
They made their way through the gates, the sound of horse hooves crunching on snow-covered cobblestones accompanying them as they left the bustling city behind. The open road stretched out ahead of them, the snowy hills and distant forests cloaked in white. White Stone lay far to the north, and while the weather had cleared, the journey would be no easy feat.
Though in sight, the journey to White Stone stretched longer than anticipated. The snow that had seemed so gentle at first began to fall harder, turning the road into a slick, uneven path that slowed their progress. What should have been a straightforward final trek stretched into two long days of trudging through ever-deepening snowdrifts and battling icy winds that cut through even their thickest cloaks.
On the first day out of Thornhold, the weather suddenly turned, and the group found themselves pushing forward at a much slower pace. The horses struggled through the heavy snow, their breath coming out in labored puffs of white mist. The once well-traveled path became indistinguishable from the surrounding wilderness, buried under layers of snow. They were forced to stop earlier than expected that night, setting up camp in a sheltered grove of trees that offered a brief reprieve from the wind.
Moren stood watch while the others settled in. The Fey Dog curled up at her feet for warmth as she carefully watched the surrounding forest. The snow fell steadily, piling up around the edges of their camp, and despite the fire they had built, the cold seeped into everything.
"Another storm's coming in," Veska muttered, sitting beside Moren and rubbing her gloved hands together near the fire. "We'll be lucky if we make it to White Stone in four days at this rate."
Moren nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon where the white landscape merged with the overcast sky. "We'll make it. It's just the snow slowing us down."
Jaycen was busy ensuring the horses were blanketed correctly and fed, his expression serious as always. "We'll need to break camp early tomorrow if we want to stay on schedule. The sooner we get moving, the less chance we have of getting caught in another heavy snowfall."
Lucius, sitting quietly by the fire, nodded in agreement. "We're close. The weather just isn't making it easy."
That night was spent in fitful sleep, the cold penetrating even their thick bedrolls and the constant whisper of wind keeping them on edge. Moren felt Luna occasionally shift on her shoulder, the Tawny owl's sharp senses attuned to every subtle movement in the forest beyond their camp. The Fey Dog, ever loyal, remained alert, though it rested its head on Moren's legs for warmth.
The world was bathed in a quiet, eerie stillness when morning came. The snow had stopped briefly, leaving everything covered in a fresh, untouched blanket of white. The sun was barely visible behind the thick clouds, casting a muted glow over the landscape.
Despite the biting cold, the group quickly packed up camp and resumed their journey. The road to White Stone wound upward, becoming steeper and narrower as it neared the mountains. The horses moved cautiously, their hooves sinking into the snow with each step, and the group kept their eyes peeled for any signs of danger.
On the second day, the weather showed no mercy. The wind picked up again, swirling the snow into blinding flurries that made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Moren pulled her cloak tighter around her, her face stinging from the cold. The Fey Dog trotted faithfully by her side, its keen senses guiding them when the path became difficult to discern.
"Almost there," Jaycen called over the wind, his voice muffled by the layers of his scarf. He pointed toward the distant mountains, where the familiar shape of White Stone's towering walls could just barely be seen through the snowfall.
It was nearing dusk when they finally crested the last hill, and the walls of White Stone loomed before them, solid and reassuring despite the storm. The snow fell heavily around the city, but the sight of its towering spires and smoke curling from chimneys filled them all with a sense of relief.
9th of Winternight, 1806 (12/9)
By the time they reached the gates, they were exhausted, their limbs aching from the cold and the effort of pushing through the snow. The guards at the entrance, recognizing them, hurried to let them inside, and the city's warmth embraced them like a long-lost friend.
Moren and her companions entered the gates of White Stone, and the impressive sight of the snow-covered city greeted them. They all dismounted their horses and started to lead them inside. Just as they stepped past the threshold, something unexpected happened. A shimmering golden light appeared around Moren, growing brighter with each passing second. Her body was suddenly bathed in a soft, ethereal glow—the unmistakable sign of a Glimmerbind spell. It was a simple, harmless spell that encased someone in a glowing light.
Moren's heart raced as she glanced down at herself, the violet and blue hues of the magical light clinging to her form. Veska and Jaycen stopped in their tracks, exchanging worried glances. Lucius, ever watchful, immediately tensed, his hand moving toward his weapon. Sensing the tension, the Fey Dog growled low, its bright blue eyes scanning the surrounding area.
Before Moren could react further, a sharp shout rang out from the nearby guard post. "Warlock! It's a Warlock!"
The voice belonged to one of the White Stone Police Department, a well-trained unit that had replaced the city's old volunteer watch nearly a decade ago. In the aftermath of increasing unrest and rising threats, White Stone had invested heavily in a professional security force—better equipped, better trained, and far more disciplined than their predecessors. Their presence was a testament to the city's commitment to order and protection, and their sharp-eyed patrols were known to catch trouble long before it could take root.
In an instant, a swarm of officers appeared, rushing toward them, their armor clinking as they formed a tight circle around Moren. Their hands were on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw at any moment. The Captain of nearby officers, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Moren bathed in magical light.
"Stand down!" he barked, his voice rough and authoritative. "Do not move!"
Moren raised her hands slowly, palms open to show she wasn't a threat, but her mind raced. She had expected White Stone to be wary of outsiders, but this reaction was far more extreme than she had anticipated.
Before she could explain herself, the sharp cadence of heavy boots echoed down the street. A squad of riflemen rounded the corner with practiced precision, their modified muskets gleaming in the dim winter light. Each barrel was already trained on Moren, steady and cold.
Moren knew from recent studies and gossip that the city had invested in cutting-edge weaponry and military-grade tactics for the past decade, making its police force one of the most advanced in the region. Their rifles, enhanced with Aetherium fuses and precision-crafting, were as much a symbol of authority as they were deadly tools of enforcement.
Nearby citizens, who had been going about their business, stopped, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, some backing away nervously, others remaining rooted in place, eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Hold your fire," The Captain ordered the riflemen, though his eyes never left Moren. He stepped closer, his hand still on his sword. "You. Warlock. Who are you, and why have you come to White Stone?"
Veska stepped forward, her hand hovering near the hilt of her sword. "She's no threat. Lower your weapons." She was preparing to cast a spell if needed.
Jaycen, always the voice of reason, moved beside Moren, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "We're travelers. We've come from Thornhold. There's no need for this." He explained, hoping to de-escalate the situation.
Lucius, calm but clearly ready for a fight, remained at Moren's side, his eyes never leaving the Captain as he stood like a silent sentinel.
"My name is Moren Ravenheart," Moren said with her hands still up in the air. "Like my companion said, we just arrived from Thornhold." She watched one of the guards draw their sword. "There is no need for that."
"Shut your filthy mouth," An officer snarled, and his lips curled around his yellow teeth in disgust.
"I'd sheath that sword if I were you, Lad," Lucius said in a warning tone. "That is my apprentice you are threatening, and that is not something a Veilborn Hunter takes lightly." His eyes drifted to the leader of the rifle group. "Captain, I think you need to take us to see the Queen." He held out a gold badge. "You know what this is."
"I see," The Captain said with a sigh. "Stand down. Officers returned to your post, High Guard; prepare to escort them to the castle." He ordered and snapped his fingers. "You four, keep your weapons sheathed, and any attempt to fight back, we will use lethal force."
"Understood," Moren agreed, slowly lowering her arms and noticing that the man hadn't sheathed his sword. "You should put that away." She noted that the man was much older than the other, with gray starting to appear in his dark brown hair and beard.
"I won't let you threaten my city!" The Officer snarled. "Die!" He lunged forward and swung his sword in a downward slash.
Moren jumped back, drew her sickle in one swift motion, deflected his attack, and took a defensive stance. "Don't want to fight you," Moren said, ducking under another wide swing from the guard. "Just stop this before I have to fight back."
"Stand down!" The Captain ordered as several guards were about to rush to aid their friend. "Do not engage." His eyes went to the other three new arrivals, all itching to join in to help their friend.
Lucius raised his hands as Veska and Jaycen were about to jump in. "Wait," He said in a commanding voice. "Moren's got this; we don't want it to escalate."
"Fine," Veska growled as her hands twitched, wanting nothing more than to start slinging spells to add her sister. "If his friends jump in, then all bets are off."
Agreed," Jaycen said, gripping his sword handle tightly as his eyes flickered from his cousin to the guards, glaring with pure hatred at Moren. "It won't end well for them if they try to help him."
"She needs to die," The Officer barked, spittle flying from his lips. "Warlocks took my family, and I will end her now before she can do anything to us!" He continued to miss Moren as she avoided his longsword or deflected it away. The man's glassy eyes burned with hatred.
"Please," Moren tried one last time while deflecting his most recent attack and landed an elbow to the man's face. "Just stop. I don't want to hurt you." She could tell the man was skilled with a sword, but after training with her uncle and mentor, it was child's play. Moren gestured for Nox to hold his place as the growling Fey Dog was tensed and ready to pounce.
" I will ensure they are avenged!" The man roared as his attacks grew more erratic and began to pant hard from the exertion. The smell of alcohol grew stronger as the man breathed harder.
"I am sorry about your family," Moren said sincerely, locking his blade with her sickle and spinning it out of his hand, sending a kinetic push that sent the back stumbling back 5ft. Moren quickly wove her fingers into an intricate pattern and whispered, "Sleep."
The man shook his head to fight off the wave of fatigue that washed over him, and his head slowly started to drop repeatedly before the older man slowly dropped to his knees and was caught by a few of his friends.
Moren sheathed her sickle and raised her hands to show that she was not a threat. "He should be fine in a few hours." She said, tilting her head to the snoring officer.
"I'll take it from here, Captain." A voice boomed.
Moren and her group all turned to see a woman who stood a hulking 9-foot-tall with arms the size of tree trunks. She was of Dravari or Giant descent, which gave her grayish skin, human-like ears, and two black tribal marks across her nose. The woman sported a complete set of light-blue plate armor and a white and blue tabard with a white tree emblem on her chest. A massive two-handed ax rested on her back with a gray strap across her massive chest. Her bald head showed more intricate tribal markings, which only made the woman look fierce.
"Commander Thunderbearer," The Lieutenant said with a salute. "I was in the middle of detaining the woman who set off the Warlock's sensor when this got out of hand." He gestured for his men to pick up the sleeping guard.
"I can see that," Thunderbearer said sarcastically and locked eyes with Lucius. "Been a while, old man." She greeted him and noticed the badge in his hand. "I take it you want to see the Queen to clear up this whole mess?" Thunderbearer watched the men move the Officer to a nearby wall while sending hateful looks at the woman in question.
"That I would, Perrea," Lucius said, slipping his badge back into his pocket. "I'm sure I can explain things and clear things up for my apprentice and her friends." He relaxed slightly as the riflemen shouldered their weapons.
"You know that she is still mad at you for the last time you were in the city," Perrea reminded the Veilborn Hunter with a knowing smile. "Are you sure you want to meet with her?" She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side.
Lucius let out a deep sigh. "Better have a healer on standby," He grunted and rubbed his face with his hand. "I'll deal with the fallout, but I must get this squared away before someone comes after her." Lucius glanced over to see Moren, Veska, and Jaycen were giving him a curious look, but ignored them for the moment.
Perrea nodded her head. "Understood," She gestured to a few of her own people. "Prepare for an escort for these four to the Queen," She paused and looked at the Officer of the group. "Captain, get the man off the street and your men back to their posts." She ordered with an authoritative tone.
"Yes, Commander," the Captain replied with a salute before jumping into action and barking orders at his men and women standing around.
"Where do you want your horses stabled?" Perrea asked, gesturing to the horses still packed with their bags. "This may take a while."
"The Ironfist Alehouse & Rest," Lucius replied quickly. "The owner owes me a few favors and will protect our gear until we arrive.
"Get it done," Perrea ordered, leading them away from the gate and deeper into the city.
"Seems like the White Stone Police Force has let their standards slip," Lucius commented after they were out of earshot of the group of guards. "A drunk like that guarding the gate?"
"Don't remind me," Perrea grumbled as she led them down the road toward the castle. "I blame the Council for cutting the amount of coins I can spend to train and hire new Officers to replace the ones that are retiring."
"Seems like they need to hire some better people to guard the entrance to the city," Veska sniffed and raised her chin in the air. "If Moren had wanted to, that man would have been dead on the ground with minimum effort."
"I don't think that would have made us any friends if I had," Moren retorted with a sigh. "So, why did those officers mark me with Glimmerbind and attempt to skewer me?" She watched as the other guards escorted them and looked at her sideways occasionally.
"It's because of what happened here 20 years ago," Lucius answered quietly. A group of warlocks came to White Stone and started abducting people for a ritual to revive a necromancer or god, and killed a lot of people before they were stopped." He shared a look with the Dravari woman. "Our group was part of the attack force that hunted them all down and exterminated them."
"Father only ever talked about it once," Jaycen chimed in with a shudder. "Told me after I joined the Order and said it was gruesome." He lowered his eyes slightly. "After that, he retired to his office to be alone with his thoughts, according to Heiko."
"That it was," Perrea nodded sadly. "Since that day, the main gate, the sky, and the seaport have been enchanted to detect Pact magic, and all Warlocks are detained immediately." She focuses her attention on Moren. "Anyone not approved by the Queen or I are escorted out of the city and told not to return."
"Noted," Moren said as she looked around at the incredible city, forgetting about the cold and snow for a few moments. The group walked down the bustling streets of White Stone, marveling at the seamless fusion of ancient stonework and polished metal architecture that defined the city's unique charm. Towering buildings of carved marble and enchanted steel stood side by side—temples etched with old runes adjacent to sleek, arcane-lit guildhalls. The cobblestone roads beneath their feet were wide and well-maintained, lined with lampposts that did not burn with fire, but with softly glowing orbs of arcane energy. Each lamp curved overhead like the elegant neck of a metallic swan, casting pools of gentle light onto the vibrant thoroughfare below.
White Stone thrummed with life and innovation, an entire decade ahead of Ethos in magical and industrial technology. Arcane trams slid silently down embedded rails, golems hauled crates of goods, and steam-billowed chimneys rose high above rooftop gardens. The city had grown vast—its districts sprawling across hills and cliffs—swollen by waves of refugees fleeing distant wars and fortune-seekers drawn by its promise of opportunity. It was a place of reinvention, where old-world traditions met the bright edge of the future, and the very streets seemed to whisper of magic, ambition, and change.
As they reached the center of the sprawling city, they passed the place Moren had wanted to see for years.
The Aether Tree.
The Aether Tree stands at the heart of White Stone like an ancient sentinel, a massive and revered symbol of resilience and renewal. Even in the heart of winter, its splendor defies the season. The branches stretch skyward with ageless majesty, cloaked in a canopy of shimmering foliage that seems untouched by frost. Hues of violet, sapphire, crimson, and fiery gold blend together in a breathtaking display, as though the leaves themselves are woven from starlight and embered dreams.
The trunk is impossibly wide—ten people could not encircle it with outstretched arms—and a radiant, living vein of Aetherium flows from its core. This stream of blue-white energy pulses and weaves like liquid lightning through the bark, casting a soft glow upon the snow-covered courtyard. The light warms the chilled air and dances across the surrounding stones like reflections on water.
Carved wooden amulets, left as offerings by townsfolk, hang from the lower branches and clink softly in the cold breeze, creating a melodic, almost sacred sound. Around the tree's vast roots, strange winter-blooming flowers push through the snow—some faintly bioluminescent, others shrouded in soft steam. Despite the stillness of the season, the Aether Tree pulses with life. It is not merely a tree, but a guardian, a wellspring of warmth and magic, and the spiritual heart of White Stone in the season of silence and stars.
Beyond the tree was the D'Rhoswyn Castle, a grand structure with equal parts elegance and fortress. Its alabaster walls are smooth and imposing, interrupted only by tall, narrow windows through which hints of flickering torchlight can sometimes be seen. The castle is crowned with turrets that taper to sharp, graceful points, their surfaces decorated with delicate, curling engravings of vines, stars, and other motifs that pay homage to the natural beauty of the surrounding lands. Silver pennants bearing the crest of White Stone flutter from each tower, catching the sunlight in glimmers that can be seen from miles away. Moren knew from her readings that the castle had been rebuilt and modified several times.
A grand stairway leads to the main entrance, guarded by statues of noble, long-forgotten heroes and creatures of legend. The arched doorway itself is intricately carved, depicting scenes of ancient battles and victories, tales of White Stone's endurance through ages of peace and turmoil.
"You two will have to wait here with a few of my guards," Perrea said, pointing to Veska and Jaycen. "I will take the rest of your group to see the Queen." She snapped her fingers, and several more guards appeared from hidden alcoves. "This is standard procedure."
Moren gave Veska a gentle smile. "I'll be back in a bit." She said, looking down at her faithful hound. "Stay," She chuckled as Nox let out a whine. "Take care of these two for me."
Nox huffed and nudged Moren's leg before walking over and sitting beside Veska.
Jaycen rested his arms behind his back in a parade rest. "Don't take too long," He joked, winking at his cousin. "We still need to check on our horses and get a room."
Lucius grunted and tossed a pouch of coins at Veska. He smirked as the woman caught it with ease. "If it takes too long, you two can meet us at the Ironfist Alehouse." He said, glancing at Perrea, who was smirking at him. "Just stay out of trouble."
Veska let a faux offended expression cross her face and placed a hand on her chest. "Me?" She asked dramatically. "I believe the trouble magnet is your apprentice, not myself or Jaycen."
"Haha," Moren replied sarcastically, shooting her sister and cousin a glare as they both started to laugh. She couldn't stop a slight smile that crossed her lips as she knew they weren't doing it to be mean.
"Alright," Perrea interrupted before they could continue to joke around. "It's not a good idea to keep the Queen waiting any longer than necessary." She gestured for Moren and Lucius to follow her.
Moren waved before being led away.
Perrea led them down a series of large, brightly lit corridors and several flights of stairs in the castle. Each step brought them closer to a chamber that few were privileged to enter. When they finally arrived at the Queen's private office, a grand, dark, oak door framed by elegant carvings of vines and symbols of her heritage. The guards at the door gave Perrea a respectful salute before opening the door. Moren and Lucius stepped inside before the Dravari woman cleared her throat.
"I'll be back shortly with the Queen," Perrea said, sending a look at Lucius. "Don't break anything. The guards will be outside if you need anything before I return." Perrea left the room without another word and closed the door behind her.
"Incredible," Moren breathed as she walked around the room.
The room exuded an atmosphere of history and quiet power. Warm, golden light filters through high, stained-glass windows, casting colored patterns over a grand mahogany desk cluttered with neatly stacked papers, old maps, and a single delicate teacup resting on a saucer. Behind the desk, walls lined with portraits of the D'Rhoswyn family tell a story of triumph, tragedy, and resilience. Each portrait captures a different D'Rhoswyn—there's Frederick, with his steady, scholarly gaze; Johanna, her face fierce with determination; and Kassandra, immortalized in her regality. And there, just above the desk, is a portrait of Caleb himself, his pale hair and dark eyes striking, a subtle smile hinting at the inventiveness that defined him.
Alongside the solemn portraits of White Stone's D'Rhoswyn ancestors and Caleb himself, there hangs a striking portrait of Lady Vexalyndra, the beloved matriarch of White Stone. Her likeness captures her spirit perfectly—her half-elven features are sharp, her emerald eyes fierce yet compassionate, and her raven-black hair falls around her shoulders, adorned with feathers and symbols of the wild. She stands proud with her bow slung over her shoulder, an elegant combination of nobility and wilderness.
Moren's gaze drifts to the wall adjacent to the portraits, where an array of firearms is mounted in careful alignment. Each weapon, from small pistols to larger, more intricate rifles, is a masterpiece of engineering, crafted with both functionality and artistry in mind. They are unmistakably Caleb's creations—sleek, powerful, and bearing the delicate scrollwork and polished metalwork that made each piece unique. Some are relics of battles won and lost, while others appear more experimental, their designs less conventional, as though Caleb had let his imagination run free in their creation.
The room perfectly blends elegance and invention, honoring White Stone's history and those who shaped it. A large tapestry hangs on one side of the room, depicting the Aether Tree with its golden aura, a symbol of life amidst all the reminders of conflict and sacrifice.
The Queen's desk held a few personal touches: a worn leather-bound book, a delicate raven figurine, and a small framed sketch of White Stone's skyline. These details brought warmth to the otherwise formidable space, revealing a more private side to the ruler who now presides over the city.
"That's Vyrebolt and Holowstar!" Moren squealed, taking off her hat and sitting on a chair, and moved closer to the weapons on the wall. "These were used in battle during the Great Aether War!' She spotted several newer versions of Caleb's weapons and gingerly ran a finger over the barrels. "It's incredible seeing history in person." Moren resisted the urge to pick one of them off the wall and hold it in her hand.
"I can't believe my apprentice was such a nerd," Lucius said with a wicked grin. "You know more about this stuff than most historians anymore." He started to chuckle as Moren began to sputter in embarrassment.
"I-I-I am not a nerd!" Moren shot back as his face grew red with embarrassment. "I enjoy history, and this is one of the most famous cities next to Ethos!" She crossed her arms and gave her mentor an indignant look. "Even Caleb and Vexalyndra's wedding was one of the most romantic and chaotic events in White Stone History during the outbreak of the Great War!"
"Smart girl."
Lucius and Moren turned around to see the Queen of White Stone standing in the doorway with a polite smile. The Queen appeared to be a formidable and regal figure. She was distinctively Ashborne, characterized by large, light purple bat-like wings and a long tail with a pointed end that matched her skin tone. She had a pair of black, curved horns emerging from the back of her head and curved to just above her eyebrows. The Queen's eyes were an intense yellow, standing against her dark purple hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore a gold crown with five violet stones, symbolizing her royal status. The Queen's attire was stylish and practical, suitable for a ruler who was not just ornamental but also ready for battle.
Her outfit consists of a long, tailored coat with golden buttons, a wide belt with a prominent buckle, and fitted pants, exuding elegance and strength. She had a firearm with intricate detailing on her right hip, adding to her aura of power and readiness. The Queen's expression is one of confidence, and she stands with a poised stance, exuding authority and grace.
"Lucius, it's been a while." The Queen said in a frosted tone.
Moren glanced at Lucius and saw him wince from her fridge tone. She watched as Lucius straightened up a bit and cleared his throat.
"Vexelara," He replied slowly. "Nice to see you again." Lucius watched the Queen stroll up and slap him across the face.