The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom IV

 Morning of the fourth day, an abandoned observatory

In the morning Zoltan moves from brother to brother lightly brushing shoulders, filling your cups with herbal tea and serving hard slices of bread, toasted and softened by honey. He has laid out the last of the supplies. “A couple of days left” he murmurs. He has smeared ash under his eyes to shield them from the reflection of the sun but it is still before dawn when you leave and in the course of forenoon the sun never shows himself behind snow filled clouds.

You follow Zoltan North past barren trees and the frozen pools. It seems to you as if the pattern of pools had meaning, as if they were letters written on the fields by the snow and pounced by winter but their meaning eludes you. Soon you hear singing and you pass a brook with icy shards drifting within it and it sings a hymn to winter. You check on the pit you dug and inside lies a dead wolf. Later you hear a high pitched whining and Heldris points you towards a copse of wood where he and Perilake laid another trap and you see a horned wolf pierced on a spear and struggling to free herself. There is a figure standing on a nearby hill with a tunic the colour of frosted dawn. They are watching you and the wolf.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"We should end its suffering..." Perilake says grimly, unshouldering the bow he still carries from Anastasz and an arrow, notching it loosely. But as he steps toward the copse and the whining, he glimpses the figure. "Who goes there?" He yells as he turns and readies to draw and fire if this stranger turns to be foe.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos lays a hand on Perilake's bow arm."Hold, brother. This is the first person we meet in this realm and their open approach suggests an invitation. Let me attempt to parley." And when he notices a familiar frown return to Heldris' face he adds: "I will be cautious."

Adler, a Hunter and Merchant of Dreams

Referee

The figure is tall and lean but you can't make out their features and first you assume a wind tugs at their clothes but there is no wind and it is the tunic's colour that shifts.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The wolf's whinings brings a feeling of discomfort to Heldris, like an echo of something from within. He shivers when Perilake speaks of ending the beast, but he simply nods in agreement, feeling observed all of a sudden. As they spot the figure on the hill, he catches Milos' gaze. Thinking that the Fox Knight might have understood his feelings about the beast, he frowns. Then at his words, he breathes easier, and nods "Be careful."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz, more hunched than usual, wrapping his cloak against the piercing cold, allows his hand to creep almost imperceptibly to the handle of his mace.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos begins the ascent of the hill in the open but does dip out of sight brielfy as he passes through a copse of pine trees. He draws no weapon and looks steadily ahead at the mysterious figure. As he approaches, he raises his left hand in an open gesture, the ivory ring clearly visible on his index finger. "Well met, stranger."

Referee

You climb the hill observed by the tall figure. As you get closer you can see that their skin is very pale and shines like moonlight, their black hair is long and straight and the bones of their face unnaturally fine. You can't discern if they are male or female and they look at you without expression: “We rarely see one of your kind in the kingdom. Sometimes we hunt them .... " They speak hesitantly but with a silvery voice. "Are you lost?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Hunting is an honorable pursuit" and he glances down toward his comrades dispatching the wolf. "But as guests in your realm, we hope to not become the hunted ourselves." He makes a short bow toward the stranger."We are unfamiliar with this land but not lost. We follow something that has not been settled properly."

Referee

They nod as if in agreement. Behind them is a sled with pelts and sacks and a spear. Under the coat their tunic is made from the finest linen and embroidered with leaves and berries. “Most of the plump folk look like prey.” With a glance at your ring they curl their lip.”Are you travelling in service of the King?”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"We have exchanged courtesies with the King but are not in his service. Perhaps we could do the same with you? We have two wolf pelts down below." He smiles and raises his eyebrows playfully.

Referee

Their slanted blue eyes sparkle under fine, dark brows. “A trade … but not of furs.” They come very close in disregard of the space a Knight usually commands around him or her. “What do you desire?” Their breath is sweet and musky like fenugreek and they are too close to see their expression.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos feels his breath catch a bit and a flush of excitement spreads across his chest. Perhaps it is the audacity of their approach, or their shining black hair, or simply the thrill of a bargain offered. He gently tilts his head back with a smile. "We are strangers in a strange land. We seek warm hospitality for the night and a generous feast. If the pelts are not to your liking, what else might I offer you? "

Referee

With a poised lean they breathe in deeply. “There is much you can give me but … let me meet the other travellers first. We parley!” Soon you all sit around a fire under the canopy of trees, the stranger on their sled made from beautifully carved cherrywood, and you on tree stumps. You cannot remember them building the fire or placing skewers of hares over it, their movements are flowing and never rushed and yet not easy to follow. They introduce themselves as Adler, a hunter and merchant of sorts. “I can take you to Stribog and the Rusalki of the west, a mere day of travel ... or two for the likes of you ... and you will never forget that Feast.” There is a dangerous glint in their eyes and then they make a dismissive gesture with slender hands “ … or I can sell you food for a couple of days.” They look from one to the next until their gaze remains on the Salt Knight and they raise their eyebrows and now they smile for the first time, revealing pointed teeth. “I trade you what you desire … if you allow me to visit your dreams.”

Wintery Hills

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Sir Milos cannot help but take delight in both the boldness and the menace of the proposal. "To welcome you into our dreams is a... precious intimacy. " Letting himself linger suggestively on the last words. "We would need to confer amongst ourselves. And to clarify, while travelling together and upon arrival among the Ruslaki, we would be your guests, bound by the ancient rules of hospitality. " He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head so his suddenly lengthened white hair drapes to one side.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight glances at Perilake. "I am prepared to make any sacrifice that will bring us closer to our goal. We must recover our strength before facing the Herald."

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The dead wolf's last breath still lingering over Heldris' mind, he peers at the stranger, suspicious. "We don't have much choice," he says, "let's accept their terms but let us be watchful, both over our dreams and over any food we'll be served."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Sir Milos places his hand over the Salt Knight's mouth. "Have care, my friend. Do not speak of making 'any sacrifice' within earshot of a Fae." Slowly, he removes his hand.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake nods at Anastaz's words, then at Milos's. He turns to Adler. "This Rusalki, are they allies of Tizra?"

Referee

Adler had moved away from you to allow you to speak freely among brothers and pretends to observe the sky, almost comically leaning their slender body back. In an instant they stand next to you - much too close for your liking. “Tizra, the Herald? Of course not!” they exclaim. “All Rusalki have pledged loyalty to the king, but ..." They lean in even closer as if to reveal a great secret. "Stribog yearns for spring to finally come and the king is old. I wouldn't be surprised if he were the first to declare Coredis, Tizra's master, the new king.”

"Hear my proposal", Adler produces a rose briar from his coat and winds a strain of their hair around it. A single drop of blood runs down the stem. “The hills are my witness: All those present will be honoured guests in Striborg's Brugh. A Feast will be held for them, a feast so fine and wild that they will never forget it.” With a quick step they are at Anastaz' side holding out the briar invitingly. “A gift for a gift: I, Adler, will be allowed to visit the dreams of Elfbane, take and leave as I please."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos' face betrays surprise at Adler's focus on the Salt Knight. He steps forward before Anastaz can agree. "If the dream visit is for only one night and I may enter as well to protect my friend's interests."

Referee

“Just once?” Adler exclaims in exasperation. “I promised an exquisite feast that few mortals have ever witnessed for the permission to visit your dreams, to come and go, take and leave as I please. For just a taste of your dreams I'll sell you a week worth of supplies and you can celebrate with bread and water.” They look at Ser Perilake with a smile full of pointed teeth. “I have what you crave most, a map of the kingdom including the location of the Elf's palace, The Halls of Desire, and I will gladly add it to our deal ... but your young white-haired friend stays in his place and out of my dealings with Elfbane.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz crosses his legs and leans back against his stump. "While you are a guest in my dreams, no harm will be done to me?" he asks Adler.

Referee

Adler stares at you with wide eyes in an expression of shock and withdraws the briar. “Harm?! You mistake an artist for a butcher! Of course I will explore the scar tissue of a life lived to its fullest and as all great pieces of art the experience can be intense or even troublesome …“ They pause for a moment, adding quickly: "... for the weak minded!" Adler holds out their empty hand reassuringly “But for a champion like you these will be moments to relive and cherish!” They look back at Ser Perilake in search of support. "Of course, if you would rather wander around the kingdom aimlessly instead of being invited to a most splendid Feast..."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"Sir Milos alone? Cruel indeed. The fox does like to involve himself." Perilake smiles fondly but wryly at Milos, a glint in his eyes. "It is Anastasz who must agree, not I."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight leans in close to Anastaz and whispers in his ear. "Perilake may think me meddlesome but you must understand that you would be bound to this creature for all your days. He would be free to commerce in your dearest secrets. Choose your path here carefully!"

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake looks at Anastasz. "This map would be useful. But we have other means. And the Winter King has some fondness for us, or -" he glances at Milos, and his white mane. "- some of us, at least." He looks around at his brothers. "Now we are here, in this kingdom, together - I have no doubts. I know what you would do for me, for... for Avert. I know deeper still that without any of that, you are good men. A child of the realm was taken, and you would honour our oaths even if it were that you had never sworn them. No matter the challenge, we will overcome it, with or without the aid of these... Rusilka." He meets Alders eyes, and studies the capricious features of the fae.

"You offer a tempting bargain, Adler. A fine deal... but I will not speak for it. No matter the depths of my sorrow, I have spent most of my life hoping of better dreams for my brother, for salt to know the sweetness that I have enjoyed." His eyes turn briefly to Milos, almost imperceptibly. "No matter the pain it has brought me."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz considers his comrade's words. He gestures for Adler to hand him the briar, and plucks a hair from the back of his head. The root is just beginning to gray. He takes the briar and winds the hair around, and a thorn sinks into his thumb. His blood slowly drips down the stem and plops onto the barren soil as he hands the briar back. As if to no one in particular, he says, "Were it my son, you'd do the same for me."

Referee

“Bound by breath and hair, sealed by blood” Adler proclaims with gravity while observing the briar and then they turn to the sled, retrieve a rolled up piece of tanned leather and hand it to the Salt Knight. “Most excellent, I will make haste and talk to Striborg to have the feast prepared.” They jump without effort onto the sled. “Just follow the mountain path to the valley of clouds and move west over the scree slope. From there you will see the smoke from Striborg's Brugh.” The next moment the sled takes them down the hill and soon they disappear into the slowly falling snow.

Black Trees and frozen Ponds

You are crossing the desolate bog past frozen pools and black trees until you reach the mountain pass and begin the ascend. As light starts to fade snowfall turns heavy and deliberate and when you reach the valley again you can't see further than your breath. It is cold and very still. Out of the whiteness of the clouds a white mare approaches. She trots slowly towards Ser Perilake, old and frail, and she bows her head and paws the ground three times. You see a saddle on her back made for a king and woven from bone and shadow. ”I am your servant Ser Perilake” she neighs with a high brittle voice, “The Winter King sends me. Will you accept his present?”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

There is a moment where Perilake considers a talking horse with some astonishment, then with some revulsion, then with more pity. "What price?"

Referee

She shakes her mane and snorts. There is a sparkle of humour in her wise eyes but she doesn't speak and just looks at you patiently. It is getting dark and you still have to climb the mountain saddle to reach the abandoned hut that had been your shelter before.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"I accept the present, if it be freely given." He takes the reins, but does not climb into the saddle. "What is your name, old one?"

Referee

The mare gives a short gentle snort that sounds like “Sivka” but speaks no more as if everything important had already been said. The reins are of a soft white leather with fine silver threads woven into them and you lead her north or maybe she is leading you. It is after dark when you arrive at the hut under the tall fir trees. Zoltan removes the precious saddle and carries it inside. You gather wood from the fallen branches and soon a fire is burning in the ancient hearth and some time later you feel your toes and fingers again.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris is holding his hands out before the fire. “That Adler is an unsettling fellow,” he almost whispers to the flames. He turns to Anastaz, on whose face the fire is casting unquiet shadows. “Your dreams are yours only, even if they come from some strange place as this.” he smiles with his old calm, “whatever thing they’ll show you, I’m sure you’ll shake it off with dawn. Your mind has always been the strongest.” He reaches for the pot and starts pouring the stew in bowls and passing them around.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz nods curtly. "Sticks and stones..." but he seems far off. For a moment, when the Dove Knight glances towards his friend, he is gone, even as his silhouette on the wall makes the motions of eating. But of course, that's impossible, and when Heldris blinks, Anastaz is back before the fire.

Adler's map (it's easier to read when you squint)

A dream

The night air is warm and heavy with the scent of jasmine. Shrouded in a delicate twilight, the vault of the sky seems close enough to touch as Milos lays upon a grassy knoll looking up at stars. He absently runs his hand through the luxurious grass that surrounds him. Another figure approaches, climbing the hill in steady silent steps. He kneels next to Milos. His strange blue eyes betray a tender melancholy reminiscent of the sea after a hard rain. “My Lord?” “No, no longer. I cannot bear to bind you any longer, young one. Although you may choose to leave me, I must release you from my service now. I yearn for the joy of watching you run free, my Fox.” He reaches out and runs his fingertips along Milos’ cheek. And something long tightened, unwinds within the young knight’s belly, and a sense of freedom and possibility blossoms there in its place. Alongside the freedom, unforeseen, a forgotten passion ignites throughout The Fox’s body. He grabs the older man’s hand and pulls him into a passionate embrace. Their bodies crush the delicate grass in the ardor of their newfound passion for one another. And somewhere in the distance, another voice laughs.

Milos wakes slowly from the dream and as his eyes open they fall upon the sleeping figure of the Salt Knight. At the sight of his noble comrade, his hands rise involuntarily to cover his face in shame.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom III

Morning of the 3^rd day, an abandoned Observatory

Referee

You are gently woken up by Zoltan and the smell of roasted bread and honey and a fire is burning between the chairs. Zoltan looks at the Gilded Knight almost apologetically: ”I was just outside to gather wood and … we won't be able to leave this place just yet my lord - lest we want to risk getting lost.” He explains that he was almost blinded by the sun glaring down upon the snow covered plains and had to return quickly. With a glance at Anastaz he adds, “Maybe the extra hours will help us gather our strength ....”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight, whom everyone assumed to be asleep, chimes in. "I am strong enough to travel. But let us wait till conditions are more favorable."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"The Thrice Ninth Kingdom proves inhospitable thus far, but it seems ever changing." Perilake muses as he looks over the domed interior. "We will wait. Perhaps soon we will have the opportunity to move forwards." He traces one hand over the black mountains outlined to the West, and begins to follow the curved walls. "For now, let us take the opportunity to look around us."

Referee

The illustrations seem to depict the surrounding regions of the tower and there are surprising details to the map like hawks flying over what looks like a chapel in the mountains to the north west. As you follow the frescoes all around the tower you see foxes drinking from a fountain in the forests to the north east.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As Perilake studies the charts, Milos prepares the meat, and Anastaz rests, Heldris is tending the fire. Pieces of broken furniture lie scattered all around him, as large planks of wood burn high and send red embers up toward the ceiling, to dance under the dome with brass and silver stars. “It was a winter much like this one,” he begins, almost talking to the fire, “when I was spending the short days pacing the halls of Karpat Fortress. I remember hearing a gentle tune breaking the stillness of those empty hallways. It was a voice singing an old lay about the grafting of the hazel and the honeysuckle, how they grow so entwined that both will die if separated, just as the poet and her lover. I knew that lay by heart, and started singing to its tune. The voice suddenly stopped, and I felt stupid and rushed toward the chamber it seemed to come from. Lady Hedwig was sitting at her desk, scribbling some notes over a piece of parchment. I guess we both looked surprised, and complicit. I begged her to resume her singing, but she said to me that if I were to interrupt her again, she would throw me out of the castle and let me on the snow to freeze. So I sat there in silence and listened to her singing, as a warm smile finally drew upon her face and she burst into laughter, and so did I."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The cavernous space fills with the smell of venison stew as Heldris tells his tale. Milos mutters prayers of thanks over the meal and then begins to serve it to his comrades. As he hands a bowl to Zoltan he says "You have a unique gift for finding the way to places. As you eat this, perhaps you could meditate on which way the Court of the Winter King might lie?"

Referee

Zoltan takes the bowl and holds it for a while with both hands to warm them. “I don't know.” he says slowly " I usually need to be outside to ...”. He lowers the bowls into his lap and closes is eyes. “North … “ he whispers and then without much conviction. “ ... I think I can lead you.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos squeezes his shoulder and says "Eat now. We will see if the others want to pursue this path." He makes his way over to the sleeping figure of the Salt Knight and places a warm bowl of stew on the ground next to him. The sight of the large wound on his side turns the Fox's eyes sad and soft. Guilt tugs at his heart. In a quiet voice he says "Rest my friend for you have fought valiantly."

Referee

In the course of the morning you see the dazzling light through the upper windows gradually dim but you can't bring it over you to wake Anastaz up just yet. You let the last of the wood burn down and watch the clouds cover the sky again. At noon heavy snowflakes start to fall as you leave your shelter. Between the trees where you fought you see wild colours: Where the blood of the wolves was spilled foxglove have grown, violet and blue and yellow and their grotesque mouths agape. Where the carcass of the stag had rested there is a small hill now with a young rowan tree growing.

Sir Milos, between its roots you find an ivory ring with symbols of cloud and sun and lightning etched in silver on the outside and an inscription on the inside: Thus all things give that receive - even death.

Thus all things give that receive - even death.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz insists on accompanying the other knights outside. From a distance, he watches Milos retrieve the ring as he hangs on to the branch of a large oak tree for support. As Milos approaches with the ring, he lets go to inspect, and stumbles, almost crashing into the Fox Knight. Unusually red-faced, he allows Milos to guide him back to the tower. After resting for a minute, and sharing a pot of nettle tea, the Salt Knight examines the ring. "I was never one for riddles."

Referee

Anastaz, after you regained your strength you look up at the globes to discern what kind of wisdom they hold. The sculpture seems to indicate that the ancients believed the stars to revolve around the Realms which themselves seem to be spherical or on the inside of a sphere with the light of the heavens shining through. Some details hint at a wind that blows in the heavens and you imagine a sky-ship being able to take you on a journey to the stars above. But you also see small dents and notches as if somebody had taken a hammer to the globes unable to bring about real damage. You slowly walk around in the tower looking at the map carved into the walls and you realize it had to be more recent than the mechanism and that the stars depicted on the walls were different from those above. You also find details that Perilake must have overlooked: some of the tress and hills and mountains have eyes and mouths that blend into their natural features and there are tall and gaunt figures hiding in the forests, with scythes and spears, and you hear the trees whisper and you see the hills shift and the wild elves are long- haired and bloodthirsty and when you find one they step behind a rock and when you blink they are gone and hide somewhere else.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

The Salt Knight, who had been brushing his hand along the wall, suddenly jerks back, as if burned. He returns to the makeshift camp and the safety of Milos's company.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As he approaches, Milos is crushing some herbs on one of the flagstones."I found a small patch of yarrow among all the unlikely flowers that sprang up in the stag's glade. The dressing on your wound needs to be changed and this poultice will help staunch the bleeding. Sit down here for a moment. It's almost ready." Then he looks again at Anastaz and notices that something is amiss. "What's happened? What have you seen?"

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz follows the Fox Knight's instructions. He frowns and strokes his chin for a moment before speaking. "I thought I saw something in the drawings on the wall. Whether my addled brain or a vision sent to vex me, I know not."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos glances up at the murals and wonders at them. "This realm follows it own laws, and speaks in its own grammar. We may need to become a bit addled to finally understand it." He gestures for Anastaz to remove his shirt and when he complies, the Fox begins to gently remove the dressing from his comrade's wound. He soberly regards the many scars that cover the Salt Knight's torso but makes no comment."There is no sign of fester which is no small blessing." His fingers deftly apply the poultice to the length of the wound, while one eye watches for any wince of pain. Without looking up from his task, he says "I saw what you did. During our clash with the wolves. You taunted all of them into attacking you instead of me." He pauses and looks up into Anastaz's eyes. "You could have died. And it would have been my fault for spurring you into that battle."

Referee

Snow is falling steadily on Heldris and Perilake who crouch over the tuft of fur hanging from brambles - the second of similar finds that indicate the horned wolves might have fled north towards the forests. The Gilded Knight, with ice crystals in his beard and the Harvest Bow slung over his shoulder, looks up when somewhere in the scrub a blackbird sings. To Heldris it sounds like a song of longing and desire but Perilake hears its true meaning.

The Elf taught me well

To dance and to sing

A message I bring

With glamour and spell

The blackbird flutters up onto a branch. It cocks his head and chirps a question and then it takes flight and disappears west into the snow filled sky.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz calmly meets Milos's gaze. "And I would have died had you not fought so skilfully. Thus is the life of a Knight. I'm not afraid to die, my friend, and certainly not in battle."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"That you do not fear death, there is no room for doubt. It's just..." And the Fox Knight's pale cheeks blush slightly "I would miss you if you were gone." Then he turns back to the task of applying the new dressing before Anastaz can say anything more. 

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The wolves must be hungry, since in result of their efforts their prey had been taken away from them. On the trail that they have found, Heldris and Perilake carefully place large cuts of venison. In proximity of those, they lay their traps. They don’t have much, but they make do. They fashion several spikes from some sturdy wood from a fir-like tree. A few of those they use for pit traps, large enough holes around the cut of meat, covered with bracken and snow. Others, they secure on a tree with a taut piece of rope connected to the snare, so that they’ll be flung forward when the meat is taken. During their work out in the cold, they don’t talk much, their minds clouded by the dire situation. From time to time they hear a lonesome blackbird singing. Perilake seems to react strangely to its call. “What bothers you my friend in this loner call?” asks Heldris, as he secures a spike on the ground.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"We have seen many strange things together Heldris. Here is the strangest of all, a land where even the birdsong holds a hidden message for those intended." Perilake smiles sadly at Heldris, one of his oldest friends. "It is a sad song, and one aimed at my heart. And it strikes true, but it tells me he lives - and so then must I." Perilake tests the sharpness of a stake, and nods. "Let us return and trust to these traps for now. If the beasts scent us, then our plans will be for nought." Zoltan nods from the tree-line, where he keeps watch, and the three return to their companions for another night in the thrice ninth kingdom.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

During his watch that night, Milos contemplates the ring he found in the stag's glade. He turns it in his fingers and lets his mind wander in meditation on the silver symbols and the cryptic inscription.

A wintery Forest

A Dream

Anastaz is wandering through a forest in midwinter, cold and alone, when he finds himself before a colossal tree. At its base is a hot spring, but instead of water it's a red sap. Still, the Salt Knight disrobes and steps into the steaming pool. It's warm, and, although sticky, not unpleasant. He rests at the pool for a while before he starts to sink. Still, he is unafraid. As he sinks below the surface, he finds he can still breathe as he descends for what feels like hours. His feet finally hit the base of the pool, and he sees the soil has been replaced by a stone wall. A buzzing of insects emanates from behind the wall, and Anastaz sees there is a brick loose. He pries back the brick...

Anastaz awakes, and it is morning.

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom II

Morning of the second day, an abandoned hut in the mountains

Referee

You all wake up before dawn by a loud crack from above, a branch must have snapped and hit the roof. In the night some of the shingles have been blown off. There is a thrumming sound as gusts slam into the logs and a rushing of wind through the canopy. The whole hut groans. When you step outside for a moment you have to brace yourself against the winds that steal your breath and make your face numb from the cold. It is still dark.

Sir Milos, Zoltan wakes up in your embrace and looks over his shoulder. His blue eyes muster you expressionless and then he gently removes your arm, gets up and pokes the fire.  

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz rises from his slumber, blows into his hands, and rubs them together. "They do not want us even to rest in their demesne."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos sits up on his elbows and looks at the ceiling. “Although it may appear that way, not every power in this land means us harm, my friend. Sometimes nature is simply wild and untameable. I can go out and check the roof to make sure it is still secure above our heads for the night.“

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight wakes up as the strong gale is howling all around the ruined hut, his serenity leaves with the wailing wind. As he sees the Fox Knight checking the roof tiles shattered on the ground, he hands him a piece of bread for breakfast. “Forget the ceiling,” he says, “let’s get going.”

Referee

While you have your breakfast Zoltan takes out his knife and carves a staff from a fallen branch. His usually precise movements are sluggish as he hold the knife awkwardly in his frostbitten fingers and Perilake is reminded of the time when he carved his first bow. You leave the hut before dawn and make your way down the mountain saddle back south while the winds howl around you. Zoltan is leading you again, his body leaning into the wind using his staff for balance. When you reach the valley again the clouds have dispersed but you have to figh against powdery snow lashing at you. You follow the mountain pass winding its way down and at a turn you see a desolate landscape below you, black trees and frozen ponds. Zoltan tries to move as closely to the rock side as possible but more then once a gust threatens to blow him off the path. At noon you reach the foot of the pass and take a short rest. Dark clouds gather in the east. A storm is brewing. Over the distant thunder you hear a blackbird hidden in a nearby shrub.

Ser Perilake, you understand the language of the bird. It sings: “Papa, Papa, The Elf taught me well.”

A hidden Blackbird

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake lurches towards the bush, but the blackbird quickly flies away. Within the bushes, he finds a brooch, painted in Kranach's colours. A gift to Lady Inga from Lady Zdenka, often pinned to the boy's chest. When Perilake turns back to the others, on his face there is hope. "We grow closer." He whispers. Zoltan recognises his aunt's present, and clasps his hand around his former mentors. "As does the storm." He nods to the swaying limbs of the black trees. Perilake nods, and scans around the party. "We will find shelter once more, and weather this ill breeze. And in the morning, we will be closer still.

On the edge of frozen waters, between the black trees, the knights find a strange building unlike any they have ever seen. They first glimpsed it as they came down the mountain pass. A tall structure made with even, neat rows of bricks, and an opaque cupola rising above, made of some shining, smooth metal. Between thin pillars, finely carved wooden doors swing softly in the growing breeze, the motion smooth and quiet. The knights approach carefully and guarded, remembering the glittering trail that near led them astray. Quietly, Zoltan pushes forward the door and steps into the hall. As he does so the Fox steps swiftly past Perilake to watch over the Pigeon. All morning the young Milos has a look that one might call apprehensive whenever his glance falls on the scion of Kranach, though such looks vanish swiftly under the regard of other eyes. Within, they find the building empty. Not in ruin, or in disrepair, but abandoned by whatever strange inhabitants it once had. But whatever took place here, once, is stranger still. Chairs of metal and soft cushioning are arrayed in circular rows, gathered in audience around the empty heart of the great room. But above, twenty feet high, and twenty-seven in diameter, a most strange construction stands vertically before the vanished spectators. A grand mechanism of brass and silver and golden globes, affixed on circular rails in winding patterns. Faint light glimmers across their edges from the windows high above, a fortune in plain glass. Beyond these bizarre artefacts, the building is a work of art itself. Above, the dome is painted with luminous points of light, softly glowing pale suggestions of the stars themselves. And the walls of this circular building have their own artistry; faint suggestions of the landscape around, with the tall mountains to the west rising over the entrance doors in thin linework, and other features unfamiliar visible through the gloom.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight 

Milos looks up in awe, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. “Is this a temple, a church?” He points to the grand sculpture of metal above their heads. “Is this an image of their god then?” Their footsteps ring with strange echoes and the Fox Knight tilts his head with a smile of delight. A pennywhistle appears in his hands, as if from nowhere, and he blows some high notes that seem to seem to provoke an eerie resonance from the metal sculpture. He laughs out loud.

Then a sharp thunderclap shakes the building and reminds them of the looming storm.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The Dove Knight paces the domed hall in amazement, forgetful of the cold that’s still biting his bones. Not even the great auditorium at Castle Barow could equal such an astonishing place. When they finally settle in, he kindles a fire around the metal chairs, with a bundle of sticks he had carried with him from the day before. “We will need more, I’m afraid." He says, to nobody in particular, as he watches the reflection of the tender fire dancing on the brass and silver globes of the strange artifact above. The wind sings an eerie tune outside, sliding over the smooth metal dome, and seems to accompany the silent music of the flames on the hanging spheres. 

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz nods. "I'll be back soon." As he opens the wooden doors, the wind outside becomes almost deafening, a screeching sound that sounds almost like children laughing... or crying. Then, the doors close, as the Salt Knight goes out into the storm.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos' brow furrows a bit and he rises from his musical reverie. “We should avoid venturing out alone in this realm. I will assist the Salt Knight.”

Referee

You step into the storm, raging winds and hail and snow. It seems as if the blizzard is filled with the fury of the realm itself or its ruler. Leaning forward you stumble towards the nearest trees, dead branches ripped from trunks. As you start gathering wood you hear a bawl over the howling of the storm and then a screaming wail. Dark shapes prowl between the trees. They circle something white and majestic and almost invisible against the fury of the elements ... if not for the deep red wounds in its side: A dying white stag mercilessly attacked by predators

From afar you hear the thundering howl of anger.  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos grabs his comrade's shoulder and leans in close to his ear. “Anastaz! The White Stag is the sacred emblem of the Winter King. If we intervene to save it, we could find favor with a powerful ally against the Spring Court, against the Elf!” And he looks up into his friend's eyes with the question...

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz's eyes alight. "Let's go," he yells, drawing his sword and plunging into the storm.

Referee

You dash forward and land between the stag and its attackers: half a dozen horned wolves observing you with yellow eyes, exposing their dripping fangs. They back away from their prey and start circling you. The White Stag, lying in a pool of blood and covered in wounds, lifts his royal head weakly and wails. Through the blizzard you see the wolves circling around you as you stand back-to-back trying to face them. One after the other feigns, pretending to pounce and then retreats quickly.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz waits for what seems an eternity, then leaps forward just as the wolves descend. He brings out his mace and his javelin in a wide arc, then begins to spin as he disengages from Milos. He whirls around and around, trying to keep the wolves at bay, stabbing and striking any that get too close.

A Pack of Horned Wolves (just imagine the horns)

Referee

All around you teeth and snarls and growling. One of the wolves bites onto your dominant arm, you hit him with the spinning attack but he doesn't let go, another tears into your thigh and retreats with flesh in his muzzel, blood spattering, the third is trying to duck under the attack but is hurled into the darkness.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos jumps into the midst of the three approaching wolves and swings his jagged blade at their legs, drawing blood. He rolls and ducks as they attempt to fall upon him, until the largest leaps up and comes down squarely on his back. But as soon as the wolf touches Milos form, it evaporates into smoke and the animal hits the hard ground awkwardly. The true Fox Knight watches from a distance, then charges the confused beasts.

As he springs across the snow, he calls to his Fae Lord: “Give me strength to vanquish these foes and Winter will smile upon us both.”

Referee

You feel your legs buckle under you and your body spasms. The roaring of the blizzard fades away and with it the trees and the wolves. Snowflakes float slowly all around you. A bell tolls. You hear a voice, mocking but not unfriendly. “Ah, my servant summons me, how queer. I see you haven't lost your appetite for bargains, Fox Knight.” “I already own your body, what else will you give me? The one-armed friend or the one you love?" The voice turns into a seductive whisper: "Give one of them up, stay with me and you will be my Prince!”

Referee

Ser Perilake, The Dove Knight feeds the last branches to the meagre fire that fails to warm the enormous hall and you turn Avert's brooch over in your numb fingers. Zoltan is sleeping, curled up in his bedroll with a blanket wrapped around his head. Suddenly Heldris falls over, gripped in a spasm that envelops his whole body.

Sir Heldris, When you come to, you are lying on the floor in front of the fire, your body is twisting and contorting violently. An image flashes before your eyes, Milos kneeling in the snow surrounded by wolves. The vision disappears, the cramps start to fade and you are convinced that the Fox Knight is in mortal danger.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris comes to, clutching his iron arm. He stares at Perilake, bewildered. “I can't explain how, but I fear our friends may be in danger.” He rises up unsteadily, and holds himself to the Gilded Knight for a moment. “Let's haste, before it's too late.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

In the eerie quiet, Milos cries out “You ask too much! Are you a Lord of the Fae or a petty crossroads demon?” and somewhere Heldris hears his voice and knows that his friend faces an inner threat as dire as the wolves that encircle him.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

With a mace trapped in one of the wolf's jaws, the Salt Knight feebly waves his javelin around himself, drawing drops of blood as the wolves descend on him in a great chorus of gnashing teeth. For the first time, Milos hears the Salt Knight scream, a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound, as the beasts rip and tear the knight's flesh. He kicks and punches at the beasts but can hardly move as the direwolves close in around him and prepare to feast.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos is released from the Fae Lord's reverie, the scene around him coalesces abruptly and the Fox Knight's charge toward the horned wolves resumes midstride. As a blinding streak of white, he impales two wolves and continues to waylay the others as they focus their attacks on the Salt Knight. The scream of pain kindles a frenzy of anger in Milos' heart as he drops his buckler and draws his hidden blade to attack anew.

Referee

Ser Perilake, Zoltan is awake in an instant and wriggles out of his bedroll. From the door you stare into the blizzard but you can't see your comrades - only the vague shapes of nearby trees. The next moment the Pidgeon Knight stands behind you, Zuraw in hand. He mumbles something inaudible and follows you without hesitation into the storm.

Sir Milos, the wolves retreat again into the white chaos. The Salt Knight is hunched over gripping his mace as he leans his entire weight onto it to keep him from collapsing. He is bleeding from many wounds. Over the roaring winds you barely hear the whimpers of the two dying wolves lying on the ground and the grunts of pain from the White Stag. Hail and snow whip your face as you turn around with your blades at the ready, waiting for the Horned Wolves to pounce again. Then out of the blizzard a figure approaches rapidly.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Perilake and Zoltan watch the Dove Knight run blindly into the deafening blizzard, as a hound after an invisible trail. They follow, and eventually spot two figures in armour standing in the red snow. The dead bodies of huge white wolves lie on the ground, and four more seem to be retreating into the howling storm. Heldris rushes toward Milos and Anastaz, "Are you all right my friends?" He positions himself between them and the four wolves, as the feathered wings of his armour spread out to shelter his comrades and scare the beasts away. "I feared we were too late..."  

The White Stag

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Heldris, thank the seers you have come. Anastaz has been hurt. We must protect him." The fear in his voice is evident but his eyes have a stony resolve. He stoops to grab his buckler from the snow and peers out toward the trees. "The beasts will return I have no doubt. This fight is not over."

Referee

When Perilake and Zoltan finally catch up with Heldris they see him standing over the wounded Salt Knight, his wings fluttering wildly in the wind while Milos is pacing back and forth trying to catch a glimpse of the wolves through the swirling snow.  

Anastaz, you are bleeding from numerous wounds and now that the tension of the battle is fading so is your strength. Hot pain is pulsating where the teeth have cut you and still a terrible chill seeps into your bones.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos returns from his survey of the nearby area. "They appear to be gone for now. We should bring Anastaz back to the domed temple and tend to his wounds." Then he looks over his shoulder at the white stag. "Give me one moment first. " Milos approaches the white stag slowly, with reverence, He squats down near its head, listens to its rasping breath, and looks deeply into the dying light in its eyes. A prayer leaves his lips silently, "Great King of the Winter forest, what can be done to honor your passing?

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz stumbles and nearly falls towards the other knights to support him. After a moment, and in obvious pain, he manages to stand upright. "I didn't gather any..." he grimaces, "wood."

Referee

Sir Milos, you kneel at the dying animal's side and the winds seem to die down and a strange calmness comes over you. You hear the voices of your brothers calling you as if from afar and the rattling breath of the stag fills you ears while his eyes draw you in. “Stay with me” they say as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud “and gift me your Rowan seeds when I'm gone. A King dies slowly and never stays dead for long.”  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos turns and looks up at Anastaz. He grimaces at the sight of his many wounds. "I must stay here at vigil a while longer and finish what we started. Go back with the others and please do not die. I will see you soon.  

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz looks at Milos, almost seeming delirious. Through the wind, his raised voice can hardly be made out. "You fought well. We will live to fight another day."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Tears well up in his eyes as Milos watches the Salt Knight lumber away in such obvious pain. He fights the impulse to run after him but instead looks to Perilake and gestures with his chin that they should go. A tear falls from his pale cheek and freezes on its way down to the snowy ground. Then he sees the Dove Knight regarding him with arms crossed and a frown upon his face. "I know, it is foolhardy to remain here alone. Will you keep watch with me then, Sir Heldris?"

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris nods, the tireless wind bending his armour's wings around him like a feathered shroud. “I'll stand guard with you, sir Milos.”

Referee

Perilake lends his strong shoulder to the exhausted Salt Knight and guides him back to the tower. After a few steps they disappear into darkness and snow. Heldris stands guard while Milos kneels beside the stag. Time passes and although the storm seems to lose its might it is very cold and your fingers and toes become numb. From afar you hear the howling of wolves. Large snowflakes are falling on the bloodied ground, white on red, and the rattled breathing of the stag slows down until at last it breathes no more.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Only occasionally leaning on the Gilded Knight for support, Anastaz makes it back into the orrery. When Perilake removes his blood-soaked garments, the other knight sees a constellation of scars, including a 20-year old jousting wound that runs from the Salt Knight's armpit to just below his navel. His newest injury is a bloody mess where a piece of his side had been ripped out. Though unsightly and pouring blood, the wound is shallow enough it should not have any permanent effect. The Salt Knight, mostly lucid, helps his companion tend to his own injuries and stanch the flow. Within the hour, the Salt Knight is curled up in a corner of the planetarium and able to claim such much-needed rest.  

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox’s head rests gently on the stag’s breast, feeling the warmth beneath the white fur, even as the beat of the great heart slows to an eventual stop. Then an immense stillness descends upon the glade and upon the young knight’s spirit. It is the black emptiness underneath all the white, the deepest source from which all emerges and to which all returns. Milos opens his eyes and stands stiffly. Snow falls from his shoulders as he shakes himself. In the aftermath of the storm, the vault of the night sky is clear and filled with unfamiliar stars. He digs a hand into his pocket and draws out a handful of bright red rowan berries. As he scatters them on the snow around the stag, he speaks into the intimate silence “Rest at last great King. Until you rise again.” The Dove Knight waits patiently, his wings a welcome refuge for the weary Fox. They slowly walk from the glade together. As they make their way through the soft landscape of white, Milos stammers “Anastaz. He almost died. I was terrified.”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As they walk, the Dove Knight’s wings still cover him like a cloak against the cold. Slowly, one wing spreads and closes over the Fox Knight’s shoulders. “I felt it as well, somehow.” He answers. “I cannot explain, but it was as if I was there with you, but helpless.” In the bitter cold, he finds a comforting smile. “You helped me that night in Bohat, and something lingered, some kind of bond…” he sighs, “I'm glad for it. I only hoped I could have understood it sooner, and acted quickly.” As the two knights reach the towering domed building, the sky clears and strange constellations appear over a dark backdrop.

Strange Constellations

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

The Gilded Knight is long familiar with the scars of the salt knight. Anastasz may still be the greatest sword in the realm, as the stories tell, but all victories on the battlefield are paid for in flesh and blood. Thankfully, the balance of where the greater debt falls still remains in their favour. Leaving his friend to rest, Perilake takes his own place within the strange building, staring up at the glowing stars. What makes them glow, he wonders, as his mind drifts off into a darkness of its own.

A Dream

"Sir Perilake." He hears Inga's voice over the noise of the waterfall. In the woods, near Kranach. When they were here, it was spring, their first together, before the journey to her family seat in Svenrik. But now it is some strange season; the trees and grasses are in bloom, the air rich with the scent of nature alive and fresh. But covered with the kiss of frost, and cold to his touch but seemingly pleasant. "My golden one, where are you?" Inga's voice calls again, and he rises from the waters where he is bathing. In the distance, he hears the soft whinny of the horses, the noise of his squire leading the steeds away. She is waiting for him in the grove, and Zoltan will be some time. He threads his way through the branches, his skin warm even as it treads across white-tipped blades. There, she waits for him. His light, his lady of Svenrik, her smooth skin goosefleshed and her bright eyes clearer and more blue than the sky... The Dream is not as it was, but it is a reminder of warmth and home, and hope. 

The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom I

The first night, somewhere in the mountains

Snowflakes dance around the campfire and beyond there is only darkness. An icy wind pierces through to your bones and wicked gusts fan the flames that burn quickly through the last logs. A few almost geometric marigold flowers break through the snow blanket around the rocks, blooming out of season and with an unplausibly bright red.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos looks out across the frozen expanse, his heart is heavy in his chest. This realm does not welcome them and he knows the way before them will be a punishing one. The tiny fire sputters feebly in the cold wind and he lets out a sigh as he coaxes it with a stick. We will need shelter in the coming days if we are to survive this gauntlet. But who here would help us? Then unbidden, a memory breaks like a gentle wave over his mind. He is walking in a thick orchard of plum trees in full blossom, tiny white blooms dance on the warm breeze of a perpetual summer’s twilight. An arm is draped over his shoulder, and a soft voice murmurs in his ear, speaking of hidden things, secrets things, just for him. Milos struggles to make the words out, but then the vision slips away, as suddenly as it appeared. He swears under his breath and rises up from the hard unyielding scrabble of the cave. Perilake mutters in a fitful sleep and Milos’ heart breaks a little more to see the Gilded Knight so diminished. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he rouses him to the next watch.

A Rock Overhang

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris bundles up in his bedroll, trying to keep the cold away. He falls asleep in a matter of minutes, as he watches sir Milos tend the fire—but it’s a night of restless dreams: Biljana’s warped face under the silver moon in Bohat; the blind bard at the brook dancing hand in hand with the questing knight, their heads dangling loose, blood stains on their necks and clothes; a disembodied slithery voice, creeping out of the darkness of Elfland, echoing into his ears, craving for his soul… He is suddenly awakened by Perilake’s hand on his shoulder. The Gilded Knight mumbles a few words about the fire, which is struggling to survive the restless wind, and is eating piece after piece of a scrawny log. The Dove Knight casts another twisted log into the fire and starts his watch. All around, the darkness seems to crawl around the dancing shadows, seeping into every nook and cranny between the fickle light of the fire. He shivers and moves closer to the flame. But no matter how close he gets, he cannot shake the cold out of his bones, or out of his mind. The red marigolds lie in the darkness like open wounds. Heldris casts away these heavy thoughts, and spends the time revising their provisions or trying to recall the tales and songs of this mysterious land, in the hope of finding some clue or helpful notion. When it’s time, he wakes Anastaz up and mumbles a few words about the struggling fire, before crawling back into this bedroll.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

It is not difficult to rouse the Salt Knight. In fact, he hardly slept at all. He feeds the fire log after log, and stares into the flames meditatively. As the first tendrils of dawn probe into their camp, Anastaz creeps to the edge of the overhang and looks out on the other world.

Referee

You rise stiffly from the dying embers of the campfire and approach the edge of the plateau. Mountains all around you. Clouds hang low like dark blue linen over the rock massif. The winds have settled down but the air burns cold in your lungs and you can see your breath. Before you lies a sharp mountain ridge that disappears into the twilight of dawn. A steep path wounds east around the rock and a treacherous scree slope covered in fresh snow leads down to the west. Behind you is a chimney between two rock walls covered in ice to the summit. From there you will have a better view of the surrounding area but the walls glisten dangerously.

A sky like blue linen

Referee

Sir Milos, Zoltan shakes you awake. His lips are blue and his teeth are shattering. He mumbles something that you can't understand and then he crouches next to the cold fireplace poking the ash with a stick.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As morning breaks, Milos stands by the last embers of the fire as the companions gather.

“My friends, we move in a different world now. If we fling ourselves against its sharp edges, we will not survive. We need to speak to it in its own language.”

He kicks at the embers and his brow furrows.

"Warmth is not made here. It is given—offered and noticed. Fire alone may fail or burn strangely. Instead, warmth must be exchanged from the heart."

He raises his face to the ominous clouds and seems to address them.

“We seek not to defy you. Only to pass through you. Take from us what is small, and leave us what is needed.”

Then he puts one arm around Zoltan’s shivering shoulders and with the other hand pulls a tattered red ribbon from his pocket.

“I offer a memory of warmth. A young girl reunited with her mother, laughing in the sunshine. The simple joy of homecoming in an uncertain world.”

And the ribbon blows from his open hand to be lost in the wide expanse of white below them. Milos hugs the Pigeon Knight close to him as he looks out at his other comrades with glistening eyes.

Referee

It seems as if the sky is a single unblinking dark blue eye that looks down at you and yet its vastness is overwhelming and if it had listened it seemed unmoved - but Zoltan stirs in appreciation of your embrace as your share your warmth with him. Or has the ribbon warmed his heart?

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris watches the red ribbon being lifted into the air. The wind carries it away toward a pale rising sun, in the east. He holds tight a piece of fabric hidden between the folds of his clothes, of the colours of Karpat, and his heart feels warmer. “Your words warm more than this feeble fire will ever do, Sir Milos,” says the Dove Knight. “Let’s follow the path, and see whither it leads us.”

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

A shiver passes through Anastaz. "Then let's get going. Shelter is our direst concern."

Referee

Zoltan turns his head and forces himself to smile, his face still stiff from the cold : ”Thank you, Fox Knight” he croaks and starts collecting his things. As before he takes the lead following the path East. His slow and steady step reveals the experienced wanderer. The pale disc of the sun rises behind the thick panel of clouds turning the sky pink in the east before fading into grey. Still even the ghost of the sun's warmth on your face feels like an unexpected blessing.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Although none can say exactly when it occurred, the Fox's coat has changed its season. As Milos makes his way across the snowy meadow, his auburn hair now appears bright white, his brown eyes nearly coal black, and his ruddy complexion has become pale and ethereal. The footsteps he leaves in the snow look to be a natural part of the wintry landscape, akin to those of a native creature.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Few in the realm of Barowia would recognise the famed Sir Perilake as he follows this strange path in this strange land. Wearing the tattered and dull armour of the mad Seeker, his tall and proud stride now a grim and determined march, there is none of the glitter and glamour of the shining knight known across the land. The warm smile and easy manner is but a story for a better time. But the strange light of the Thrice Ninth Kingdom glimmers upon some aspects familiar to those who know Perilake best. The armour of his namesake is gone, but the cloud of depression and hopelessness of these last few weeks is gone too. Amid the grey mists and steep snowbanks, Perilake's brothers see his smile once more. Its warmth even more of a ghost than that of the pale sun, but holding the cold strength and beauty of crafted metal. "We are here, in the land of the Elf and his accursed Herald. We have achieved the impossible already." He breathes in a deep, shuddering breath of icy, and exhales slowly as he nods at the Fox Knight's words. "We will do yet more impossible things, together."

Referee

At noon you reach a snowy meadow between cliff walls, so high up the mountains that it is filled with clouds. You hear birdsong from a lone whitebark tree up in the cliffs, a melody of profound longing that urges you to stay and listen. Through the thick mist you see a trail before you, glittering dust on the snow.

Noon of the first day

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As the lonesome birdsong reaches his ear, the Dove Knight’s stops and listens. A wistfulness for home fills his heart. “This reminds me of a sorrowful lay from home, about two young courtiers and their forbidden love.” He turns hurriedly to Perilake, but to his surprise he’s met with a confident smile that warms his heart. He crouches to inspect the glittering dust on the path. If he has noticed the Fox Knight’s new coat, he doesn’t show, but he nods reassuringly to him before turning his attention to the ground.

Referee

You crouch down to get a better look at the magic trail but upon closer inspection the motes of dust seem to possess a treacherous edge, tiny flames ready to ignite.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"In our realm, such an artifice would be used to light the way or defend some place of significance, but the ways of the fae are inscrutable."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos steps forward to the threshold of the glittering path. He bows and asks out loud to the wind and the snow: “Keepers of this place, as strangers in this land, may we walk this bright path before us with no claim or trespass? And if a price is due, then name it for us.” Then he scans the meadow with narrowed eyes, pauses for a moment, cocks his head to one side listening, and finally closes his eyes to feel how his body is responding in the wake of the request.

Referee

It is eerily silent except for the longing song of the bird dampened by the clouds around you. You are almost convinced it sings in a language you once spoke but have forgotten since and the moment passes and only the yearning remains. The mountains seem to lean over the clouded meadow, mildly curious like a cat regarding a dead mouse. As you close your eyes you feel a malicious presence on the trail that is neither bird nor cloud nor mountain. A boggart or sprite maybe, ready to play tricks on you.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight sighs and steps back from the threshold of the glittering path.

“There is only ill will for us down this path. We must find another way.”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake's hand grips his sword, and he gazes around the valley. "Then we will avoid the path, and seek out the closest shelter we can. Then we will be able to search for a path through on the morrow, for another night in this cold and our fires may be extinguished. I will not have them fade before they burn a path home for Avert." The knights search the meadow for shelter or a dwelling secreted somewhere in this valley, carefully avoiding the glittering trail - and who or whatever laid such a tempting snare.

Referee

You discover a mountain pass to the East that leads down below the clouds but it is narrow and exposed to the elements. You find a frozen waterfall to the south beautiful and cold and in the North a mountain saddle. As you climb higher you see tall fir trees and between them the ruins of a handful of huts, burnt and desolate but the ground is snowless and covered in brown needles. One of the houses still has a roof and a brick built fireplace with ancient ash. The sun has vanished behind the mountains and you are cold and tired. You hear faint animal noises in the distance that Sir Milos recognizes as the barking of a fox

A Valley filled with Clouds

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz sets to preparing a fire, and he can shortly be seen kindling a small fire in the decrepit hearth. His fingers clumsily assemble the tinder, and when he lights the fire, it catches in a sudden conflagration, like flash paper going up. As he feeds the flames, a single thick tendril of smoke rises from the chimney to probe the surrounding countryside.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake paces through the huts, sifting the wreckage and retrieving whatever lumber or stone may be of use. Behind him Zoltan surveys the woods and lands, before pondering the ruins. "There were people here, of a kind."

Referee

You feel the draft from a corner where some of the stones are broken and moss is growing. You find old rusted tools, shears and brushes and under the rotten top of a table the carved toy of a sheep. Slowly the room is filling with warmth and for the first time since you arrived in the Kingdom of Winter you don't see your own breath.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Pigeon Knight shivers as he sits in front of the hearth. Milos sits behind him and wraps his arms around his shoulders. He looks at the other knights with a concerned expression. “The fire will warm our bodies but who will offer us a memory of home to warm our hearts in this unyielding realm?”

Referee

Zoltan holds out his hands to the fire. You can see frostbites on his fingers. He flinches when you mention home and he stays silent.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake quietly takes the carved sheep, and considers it as he sits by the fire. He remembers Inga's mementos from Svenrik, that became their son's favourite toy. He holds it close, feeling the eyes of the others on him. "Many years ago, I travelled to Kranach for the first time." Zoltan shifts in his seat, his shivers interrupted by a small but sudden tension at the name of the home he forswore, of the lineage and loyalties that once felt like a crushing weight around the boy's shoulders. But as Perilake tells the story of their time together there; of the warmth of the people, of the time spent with the Lady of Svenrik in the woods, the tension calms, and a faint smile can be seen. A similar smile plays across Perilake's face; for a moment, his eyes seem to bear the brightness he wore in those early days. Or perhaps it is merely the reflection of the flickering fire.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Perilake's tale warms Heldris’ heart and shakes off some of the weariness from the long day of perilous travel. He stands up to stir the fire and add more wood, as he comes back to the memories of his first winter at Karpat. He smiles, but decides to keep that thought for another day, as the warm memories of home will be a rare and treasured good as they march deeper into the land of the Elf.

A Shelter from the Elements

A Dream

Milos is clambering across a gray rocky landscape high up the side of a mountain. Clouds hug the crags in a dense mist and dark shapes seem to loom within them. He knows he is searching for something but can’t remember what. There is an oppressive urgency. That time is running out. The sharp rocks cut his hands and drops of his blood fall upon the snow. Someone is watching him. He stumbles, falls prone, and sees on the ground before his face, the carcass of a pigeon frozen in a small patch of snow. Mocking laughter seeps from the clouds around him and he despairs.

With a start, he awakens. Zoltan mutters feebly in his sleep and Milos wraps his arms around him more tightly.