Cold. It was a biting cold that penetrated to the bones. Although the swaddle offered some protection, the merciless wind outside tried to seep in at every opportunity. He swayed with a shaky rhythm, a testament to the clumsy and careless steps of his carrier. The smell that filled his nostrils was sharp: sweat, wet fur, leather, and the metallic, old scent of blood. Although these smells made him nauseous, in the helplessness of a baby's body, all he could do was endure them.
After that void-like emptiness before, now I'm inside this shifting, pungent pile of fur. At least it's different, he thought to himself.
The arms holding him occasionally tightened slightly, sometimes loosening as if they were about to drop him. "I hope he doesn't drop me... It seems there's a problem with his brain despite all that muscle." The irritating texture of the coarse fur and the man's irregular breathing were infuriating. The feeling of helplessness clung to his throat again. He was trapped in this body, completely at the mercy of others. Never... Never again.
His eyes were half-open, surveying the surroundings as much as the swaddle allowed. They were advancing on a snowy, steep mountainside. The four figures around them were weary but alert. The leader's heavy, quality dark steel armor and the two swords crossed on his back glinted with a dull glimmer in the snow light. There was an authority in the man's every movement, the sharpness of an experienced warrior.
Below, in some places, bottomless dark chasms opened up as if the world had split. For a moment, he even thought he saw a strangely suspended, dark, irregular landmass in the distant sky. Pieces of land floating in the air? The rules of this planet are a bit... different.
Suddenly, a massive silhouette appeared on a rocky ridge slightly ahead of the group. It resembled a large predatory cat with fur as white as snow, its powerful muscles visible, and dagger like sharp teeth. The creature stopped and turned its head to look at them. Its yellow eyes were cold and calculating. Aurelion held his breath in the young warrior's arms, feeling the man's heartbeat quicken. The group also froze instantly, hands going to the hilts of their weapons. One of them, wielding what looked like a high quality bow, had already drawn it. The leader raised his hand, signaling them to remain calm.
"This doesn't look good," the young warrior whispered, his voice trembling.
The leader growled harshly. "Calm down, Borin! It's a Snow Phantom. Don't move!"
After a few seconds of tense silence, the massive creature growled as if indifferently, turned its head away, and slowly vanished between the rocks with graceful yet powerful steps.
Roric took a deep breath. "It didn't come closer. We were lucky," he said, his voice relaxed, yet still sharp. "It must be chasing other prey." He gestured for them to continue along the road.
"Interesting," thought Aurelion. "Either it had a bigger problem than us, or it wasn't interested in small prey. A good day for survival." Even this brief encounter had hinted at how wild these lands were and perhaps at the existence of threats greater than themselves. How does one survive in a place where such creatures roam freely? Power... Here, everything apparently means power.
The journey continued with a monotonous rocking and cold that made time lose its meaning. The group members occasionally spoke amongst themselves in low voices. Aurelion couldn't distinguish the words but noted their intonations: fatigue, anxiety, sometimes the leader's harsh, short commands, and the cloaked one's rarely heard, calm replies. Only a specific sound repeated when addressing the leader figure, "Roric," caught his attention.
Finally, after hours, a massive, dark-colored structure began to emerge from among the thickening pine trees. Walls of long, rough stones stood there as if sprung from the earth itself, leaning against the foot of a mountain. They had a gloomy appearance under the gray sky, but they stood tall and firm. Aurelion noticed intricate patterns that occasionally shimmered with a faint blue light on the walls. "Marks carved into the walls... A kind of protection? This could be important." There were silhouettes of guards in the towers and fluttering banners bearing a distinct claw symbol.
But the strangest thing was the giant, swirling snowstorm that completely covered the city, hanging fixed in the sky. It couldn't be a natural weather phenomenon; its edges were sharp, and it spun in a constant vortex, shielding the city below. "This storm... is not natural. It's too steady, too stable. A tremendous power must be controlling it. How? To hide or protect the city? This level of power manipulation... impressive."
As they approached the main gate of the city, the armored, helmeted guards in front of the massive steel gate immediately recognized Roric. They gave a stiff salute, quickly striking their right fists against their chests, where their hearts were. There was no kneeling. "It seems they show respect to power instead of fawning. Nice," Aurelion mused. Roric had a brief, sharp conversation with the chief of the guards, after which the massive gate creaked open.
When they entered, Aurelion was met with a different kind of chaos. The wide, snowy main street was filled with people. Thick smoke rose from the chimneys of the mostly multi-story buildings made of rough wood and stone. Armored warriors rushed in groups, with some who appeared to be of high rank shouting commands. Miners, covered in coal and dirt, trudged wearily, picks on their shoulders; some hunters carried the furs or horns of incredibly large, strange-looking creatures on their backs. Complete turmoil and organized chaos reigned. This was not a peaceful city, but a fortress fighting to survive.
As they proceeded, people's gazes inevitably landed on them. Most recognized Roric first and bowed their heads in respect, but their expressions changed when their eyes shifted to the face in the swaddle. His pointy ears sparked curiosity, confusion, and even openly hostile whispers. Roric moved forward with determination, ignoring these looks and murmurs.
"Tsk, are these primitives seeing someone different from themselves for the first time?" Aurelion thought.
The group passed through the city and took a wider path that climbed up the slope of the huge mountain behind. Their goal was clear: a structure carved into the mountain itself, which looked larger and more majestic than any other building. The entrance to the manor was framed by huge, polished black stones, and on it, sparkling runes were visible again. Torches burned on either side, and at this entrance stood two guards in imposing armor.
The sentries gave Roric the same stern salute, and the group entered. The inside was just as lively as the outside. Servants ran through wide, high-ceilinged corridors, messengers carried orders, and armored officers moved from one corner to another with rolls of maps. The air was thick with urgency and suppressed tension.
Finally, they passed through a large, double-winged door and entered a vast hall. The hall was crowded. Around a large table in the center, stern-faced, armored men were gathered, leaning over maps and discussing heatedly. Weapons, armor, and the heads of hunted giant creatures hung on the walls. Animal skins were spread on the floor. But all eyes were turned towards the figure seated on the magnificent throne carved from black stone on the raised platform further into the hall.
So this is the alpha of this place, Aurelion thought as he surveyed the figure. The man was enormous, definitely surpassing two meters; he was like a giant even compared to the other Northerners, and the throne seemed too small for him. His silver-white hair fell like a mane down his back, creating a contrast with his sharp features and pale skin. His face was clean-shaven. His eyes were coal-black, and a ruthless intelligence sparkled in his gaze as it swept across the hall. But what captured Aurelion's attention more were other details: when he slightly parted his lips to speak, his teeth were much longer and sharper than normal, almost like a predator's. Thick, black claws were visible at the tips of his fingers gripping the armrests of the throne. This man... exceeded human measurements; those teeth and claws, so like a predator's, yet he appeared to be in his right mind. Was he a different species, or had he... changed? The aura of raw power he exuded was undeniable.
Two more people stood beside the throne. One was a middle-aged man with a pale complexion, a thin goatee, dressed in a fancy but worn robe, a cynical air about him – the typical look of an administrator. The other was his complete opposite. He wore a dark, plain, almost shapeless black robe, and his hood cast a shadow over most of his face. However, the visible portion of his face in the shadow was old, filled with deep lines. Nevertheless, his posture was upright and his shoulders were broad. It was clear that he had a strong build despite his age. But what was truly disturbing were his eyes: stormy, swirling blue eyes peering from the shadow of the hood. It was an intense, piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate deep into one's soul. Even the giant on the throne seemed to stand with a certain respect toward this old figure. "This old man's gaze... it's as if he's disturbingly weighing everything up." Aurelion instinctively felt more wary of this old man than even the giant on the throne.
Roric stepped forward, stood a few paces in front of the throne, and struck his right fist against his heart again. "War Chieftain Varkas Silverfang!" he said in a loud yet respectful voice.
The War Chieftain's dark eyes turned to Roric.
"Give your report, Captain!" the War Chieftain spoke. His voice was not loud, but it had a deep, slightly rasping tone, calm yet carrying an undeniable authority. It was the calmness of a predator that had cornered its prey. Even though Aurelion did not understand the words, the commanding tone and the address "Captain" were clear.
Roric began to speak. He described his observations from the western border: the dangerous terrain, a few minor incidents encountered, the overall situation of the border. The War Chieftain listened intently, occasionally asking short questions in the same calm but interrogative tone, to which Roric responded. The others in the hall had fallen silent.
Before Roric could finish his report, War Chieftain Varkas's piercing eyes had already locked onto the swaddled baby in Borin's lap. Ignoring the rest of the report, the Chieftain asked in a deep voice, "What is that in your lap, Borin?"
Borin flinched and stepped forward. Roric quickly explained the situation: the dying Elf woman they found at the border, her baby beside her, and the woman's last moments.
The War Chieftain's full attention was focused on the baby. Aurelion was quietly watching him as well. Those golden eyes, observing with a calmness that didn't belong to a newborn, met the wild, dark eyes. Varkas reached out his hand. "Give him to me."
Borin stepped forward hesitantly and carefully extended the swaddling to Varkas. Varkas took Aurelion with astonishing care. His gigantic hands almost completely enveloped the swaddle. Aurelion felt like he was in the palm of a giant. Varkas brought the baby closer to himself, his dark eyes locked directly onto Aurelion's golden eyes. Then, he did something that disturbed Aurelion and set off alarm bells within him. He leaned down and sniffed the baby, taking a deep breath, his nose almost touching the swaddle.
He's examining me... like sizing up prey. What manner of inspection is this? It's humiliating... And primitive. Aurelion realized the instinctual nature underlying this movement and perhaps senses beyond the normal. "This man's senses are sharp. Is this an animal's instinct?"
A vague, indistinct feeling emanated from this baby, a scent—familiar yet heavy in a way Varkas couldn't quite place. His instincts were slightly stirred. Just then, Aurelion's tiny hand opened, revealing a pale gold scale shape in his palm for an instant. Varkas's eyes locked onto that mark. His face was expressionless, but for a moment, his gaze lingered on that small pattern, as if weighing the significance of what he saw. The thoughtful expression in his eyes deepened. "Balance," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the mark for a moment.
At the same moment, the old man beside him had also leaned towards the baby. It was then that Aurelion made eye contact with the old man. Those eyes were terrifying; they had no pupils, just a stormy swirl of deep blue. These eyes focused on the baby's opened hand, on that pale sigil. On the old man's wrinkled face, a brief flicker of deep astonishment and obvious recognition crossed his features, then quickly vanished, replaced by that inscrutable tranquility. His lips moved silently, as if spelling an inaudible word, then stilled.
After a few seconds of silence, Varkas handed the baby back to Borin. He still had that thoughtful expression on his face. His gaze met the old man's beside him, as if silently seeking confirmation. Then he gave his command, his voice returning to that calm, rasping, yet authoritative tone.
"The war has left many orphans," he said. "Take this elf pup to join them." He turned his head towards the old man.
The old man nodded, his voice calm: "The War Chieftain is right. The orphans of the war may become the warriors or scholars of the future. We must take care of them."
Varkas turned back to Roric. "Roric!"
"At your command, War Chieftain!"
"Check on this child from time to time. Make sure nothing happens to him. Understood?"
A brief expression of astonishment crossed Roric's face, but he quickly composed himself. He struck his fist against his heart again.
"Understood, War Chieftain!" he said in a clear voice. His gaze flickered to Aurelion for a moment. Aurelion noticed this look. "The way this man looks at me has changed," he thought. "Either he got a promotion, or he's in trouble."
The Chieftain waved his hand, signaling them to leave. Borin, clutching the swaddle tighter, stepped back and, together with Roric, they maneuvered through the crowd towards the exit of the hall. When Aurelion looked back one last time, he saw the War Chieftain's dark eyes and the old man's stormy blue eyes still on them. This special attention... was concerning.
As soon as Roric stepped out of the hall, he turned to Borin and took the baby. His hold was different from Borin's; it was tighter, more confident, and purposeful. Aurelion immediately felt this change. There was no clumsiness in this man's grip, but rather the weight of a task.
After brief farewells with the other team members, Roric plunged into the crowd with the baby in his arms. His serious expression and the quality armor he wore seemed to fend off most curious glances and inappropriate comments. They turned away from the main streets of the city and veered into narrower side alleys. The layer of snow was dirty in places, and the shadows of the buildings made the streets even gloomier. Aurelion could take short glances around as he was carried: people gathered in corners to warm themselves, tired warriors leaning against walls, some buildings with broken windows...
They finally stopped. In front of them stood a building made of stone and wood, larger than the others, but as if it had been hastily expanded. Some scaffolding was still up in parts, and stacks of lumber were visible at the side. Muffled sounds came from inside the building: children's shouts, crying, and the hammering from ongoing construction. "A big place... but there are new or hastily built sections, and it's way too... noisy."
Roric pushed the door open and entered. Inside was even more chaotic than the sounds from outside suggested. In a large main hall, there were dozens of children of various ages. Some sat silently in corners, some were crying, and some played noisy games. A few adults and older children seemed to be trying to manage the crowd, their voices tired and tense. The air was a mixture of stale food, unwashed bodies, and sawdust. "Shit. I expected this, but still..."
Roric approached one of the weary-looking staff members bustling around the hall. They had a brief conversation. The staff member looked at the baby in surprise, then directed Roric to a corridor off to the side. Roric walked down the corridor, opened a wooden door, and entered.
The room was quieter than the hall but filled with documents, rolled-up plans, and various lists. At the head of the table sat a woman with her yellow hair in a tight bun, glasses perched on her nose. She was leaning intently over the papers in front of her. Upon seeing Roric enter, she looked up, her blue eyes questioning.
"Captain Roric," the woman said, her voice tired but sharp. "Is there a problem?"
Roric closed the door behind him. "A new child, Linnea." He indicated the swaddling in his arms.
Linnea's gaze shifted to the baby. When she noticed the pointed ears visible from within the swaddling, her eyes first widened in shock, then her brows furrowed slightly. "An... Elf?"
Roric nodded. "The pup was found near the border. An old elf woman gave him to us before she died. The War Chieftain asked me to bring him here."
Linnea sighed and adjusted her glasses with her fingers. She looked at the piles of papers on her desk. "Another one... Gods be my witness, Captain, I don't know where we'll fit him. This war..." She didn't finish her sentence, but the weariness in her voice said it all.
Although Aurelion didn't understand the conversations, he could sense the woman's exhaustion and the difficulty of their situation.
Roric lowered his voice slightly. "This one's different, Linnea. Keep an eye on him. Suffice it to say the War Chieftain is... paying special attention to this pup. Make sure nothing happens to him."
Linnea raised her head and looked carefully into Roric's eyes. She had grasped the seriousness in the Captain's voice and the significance of the War Chieftain's name being mentioned. Her expression hardened. "Understood, Captain. Don't worry."
Aurelion felt the change in tone and the silent agreement between them. There was something important about him, and it both intrigued and unsettled him. "What is it about me that make them so serious?"
Roric carefully handed the baby to Linnea. Linnea took the swaddling. Her touch was soft yet distant. She brought the baby closer to herself, her blue eyes carefully examining Aurelion's face over her glasses. For a moment, she paused at the golden eyes. It was hard to tell if there was curiosity behind her professional expression or just a sense of obligation, but Aurelion met her gaze with the same intensity. "Is this woman the unlucky person who will now take care of me? At least she seems more civilized compared to the others."
Linnea adjusted the swaddling, touched Aurelion's cheek for a brief moment, then immediately stood up and headed towards a smaller, empty crib in the corner of the room. She carefully placed the baby in the crib. Then she turned to Roric. "What needs to be done will be done, Captain. If you'll excuse me now..."
Roric nodded with a slight bow. "He is in your care." He turned and left the room. Aurelion, now in the small crib in this unfamiliar room, was alone with the muffled noises coming from outside and the closed, papery smell of the room.
That evening, the shadows from the fire in the War Chieftain's hearth danced on the wall. The War Chieftain sat at the head of his table, while the old sage stood before him.
"That elf pup, Sage Ulfar..." the War Chieftain began, his voice calm and rasping. "You saw the mark on his palms too."
Ulfar slowly nodded. His blue eyes were lost in the flames of the fireplace. "I saw it, War Chieftain. Someone unexpected, appearing in an unexpected place, at an unexpected time." There was the wisdom of old age in his voice, and perhaps a hint of concern.
"Could he be useful to us in the future?" asked Varkas, his strategic mind weighing the possibilities.
"Perhaps," Ulfar replied. "But only perhaps. The loyalty of a high elf is not easily won. They are very proud. First, he must take root in these lands and accept us. We must protect him, yes, but at the same time, he must become one of us." He paused, his gaze deepening. "I've heard that the high elves have faced very heavy assaults. The sudden appearance of this child here... is a kind of proof. The invaders may be much stronger than we think. We must be more vigilant than ever, War Chieftain."
The War Chieftain initially said nothing, then furrowed his brow. "Yes... we must... win."