The winter months could be rough. While they certainly weren’t as bad as they could be the further south you went you’d find yourself wishing you decided to migrate in that direction if you had the displeasure of being so high in the north. Maybe that was why the Spade Kingdom was so ornery? Because they were so damn cold. It was hard to imagine life in such a snow ravaged nation. Inhospitable. Inconvenient. Cold. The cold really did suck. It was awful. Terrible. Miserable. You had some neanderthals out there that preferred the cold over the heat. “You can beat the cold but not the heat” those small brained fools would say. Just wear more clothes. Eat or drink something warm. People like that who broke things down to such simplistic terms were annoyances. No, the cold was not that simple to vanquish. It was bothersome. World stopping. Skin stinging.

Thus it was even worse the further north you went. People who grew up in such harsh conditions often became hardy, tough, and strong. Respectable qualities. Otherwise, if they didn’t acquire such traits of strength, they would die. It was just ones luck to find themselves in the northern regions of Clover where the snow from the mountains came down to the valleys and roads below. Of course, because Clover was a southern nation, the weather wouldn’t be as bad as it potentially could be. Not like it was Spade. But things were the way things were one could suppose. Couldn’t fight the seasons. No mage was powerful enough to stop the turning of the world and the position of the sun. Not yet anyhow.

But people still managed to carve out a life for themselves even when the oppressive cold came down upon them. Like it was earlier said, snow from the mountains had made its way down to the more habitable lands beneath their shadows. Popular trade routes and travellers roads had been blanketed by white sheet but, thankfully, this did not stop the populace from travelling. Roads that would normally be hidden had been recreated by constant foot traffic ranging from boots, to hooves, and to wagon wheels. One such wagon, pulled ahead by two large, strong, looking mustangs, trudged forward through the snow.

It seemed that it was starting to warm up. Lighter clumps of snow that were hanging for dear life to the needles of the pine trees that dotted the sides of the road. The sun, though it seemed so far away, was doing its job and melting the snow. Little by little the trees would stop being suffocated by the sleet and the greenery would reveal itself to the world yet again. Pine trees were interesting though. They were trees that had adapted to thrive in wintery environments. The needle-like shape of their lives was a genius design. The shape allowed them to better retain water, a necessary component of photosynthesis, and such they were able to remain green all year long due to that conservation. The leaves possessed something called chlorophyll that absorbed sunlight and use the energy to turn carbon dioxide into air and water into sugar. But what made pine trees special and allowed to them to remain green all year, despite the harshness of winter that disabled many other trees, was a hardy sense of conversation. Water, minerals, and the like was held onto and allowed the tree to live and thrive. Winter could not stop it.

As if on cue, some snow fell from a needle covered branch and onto the hood of the carriage being pulled along by the previously mentioned mustangs. The coachman, an elderly gentleman nearing his sixties, kept his eyes ahead on the road. Dressed in a thick coat and wearing a homemade wool hat on his head, graciously made by his loving wife, held the reins of his horses gently as they made their way down the snow covered road. Looking up at the partly grey covered sky he mumbled something to himself as his gaze softened. Taking his right hand from the rein and bringing it behind him, the elderly gentleman parted the flap covering of the carriage to look inside. ”It shoul-” he began to say before, upon turning his head to look over his shoulder, he was greeted by an oversized and very furry face. White fur to be exact. An a large, wet, black nose with little brown eyes and a floppy pink tongue dangling out of a hot breathed panting mouth. Suddenly that tongue found itself pulling itself upwards across the coachmans face in a show of affection and, when the elderly man pulled back with a startle, came a loud bark.

”Lachne!” came the sudden, sharp, command from the only other passenger of the carriage. The overly large and furry white pyrenees mountain dog, apparently named Lachne, turned his head towards his master and wagged his tail before crawling over all the others and luggage in the interior of the wagon to try and lay beside his owner. ”Sorry about that, grandpa. He’s overly affectionate. An actual gentle giant.” the hooded individual stated, almost as if it were a sigh and a bother. Said individual was dressed in a fairly thick, green, coat. Upon his head was a seamed cap that hid the top of his head while the thick scarf hid the lower half. All that was visible of the bundled up man was eyes which were closed as though he were napping. Lachne managed to find a spot for his oversized form, laying down to rest his head on the man's chest, which prompted him to open his eyes and place an uncovered hand on the dogs head and give him a stroke.

”It aint no problem. Just caught me by surprise is all. Never had passengers quite like yours before I’ll tell ya.” the old man replied with a voice heavy with a boonie accent. Adjusting his own hat after wiping the dog drool off his face he looked back into the wagon at the strange man he was ferrying and his… companions. Lachne had already made himself acquainted with the driver but the other furry members of the riders little group were all behaving much better. Two young bloodhounds lay side by side one another huddled up against the side of their master. They were practically indistinguishable from one another save for one having a black spot on the right eye and the other on the left. But the one that caught the old mans eye the most was the strange, smaller, golden furred dog that remained separated from the others. With triangle, pointed, ears and a tail that curved upwards rather than stretching thin like the others, it was a canine the old man had never seen before.

The man scowled, confused, before noticing the dog had noticed him an was giving him a similar, unamused and disinterested look, as well. ”Wanted to let ya know that it won’t be much longer now. Velen’s only maybe, give or take, another hour up the road. We just need to clear and round the forest and we’ll be there.” the man explained, getting an affirmed grunt from his passenger before he shrugged and closed the flap again, leaving the man alone with his four canines. Alone and unbothered the otherwise quiet gentleman opened his eyes to look at the clothed roof of the carriage. Wisteria colored eyes stared up at nothing as only a repeating thought kept circulating through his head. I hate the cold.

Like the driver said only a little more than an hour. The carriage stopped as it rolled into the small Forsaken Region town known as Velen. Climbing down from his seat and making his way around the back of his carriage after making sure his horses weren’t gonna go anywhere. Rounding the backside the old man leisurely unsecured the back so the stranger and his companions could disembark. Immediately, Lachne was the first off to go and find somewhere to piss. Bouncing off like a phantom in the snow to do so. Following this the bundled up man himself began to hop off. ”Wait it’s slippery!” the old man suddenly warned. The snow could catch someone unawares off guard. But the stranger, already mid movement, made no sign of a struggle over balance when his black boots touched the ground. He turned his head to look at the old man, remained quiet, before snapping his fingers and motioning with his hand to the ground.

The two sibling bloodhounds jumped out upon command, sniffing around their immediate vicinity before moving about to stretch their legs. However, not all were so eager to jump down. Both the elder and the passenger turned to look at the golden colored dog, standing at the edge, and looking down at them both. Clicking his tongue and motioning again, the stranger narrowed his eyes when the dog remained unmoved. ”Myia. Down.” he commanded, but the dog remained umoved. She snorted at him. ”Oy. Don’t ignore me. Down.” he commanded again. She didn’t move. ”Don’t make me destroy you. Get. Down. Now.” Lydia relented. Though it didn’t seem to be because it was out of fear. More like knowing that this wasn’t going to end in her favor. The dog hopped down and started doing similar things to the other three. ”They’re like kids sometimes, y’know? Some are more hard headed than others I suppose, heh.” the driver commented, clearly entertained. ”More than you know.” the man replied, nodding his head in thanks to the carriage driver.

”Be careful now. Velen’s got fine people but some rough customers as well. How life is out here in the Forsaken.” the old man warned. ”Thank you for the warning.” the younger man replied before beginning to move towards the town and away from the carriage he had spent the last day and a half riding on. Said day and a half could have been spent back in the last town but, well, he didn’t like to stay still for too long. A freak blizzard had stopped his travels and required the purchasing of transport. Maybe it was for the best though. His supplies had gotten rather low. Had they travelled by foot they may have ran out of food. While he never would have considered eating his dogs… Lydia would be the first. Said hounds all followed behind their master as he entered into the town called Velen.

What was there to say about it? Out in the Forsaken Region you weren’t exactly going to be getting the high rise of society. Architecture? Design? Nobody gave a shit about such things out here. Four walls and a roof big enough for what was needed. Stupidly simple decisions and living were all you found out here. Blissful ignorance. All they cared about out here was getting by day by day. He envied their caveman simplicity at times. Velen had maybe… eighteen buildings from what he could tell. Some homes, one general store, market stalls that were closed up, and one single tavern. Actually, there was one last thing. A church. Logic dictated that the general store was the best place to stop first. Spend his yul on food and other supplies for the road and properly prepare himself. But, nah. He was hungry. He wanted something warm to eat and drink. Plus he was sure his dogs felt the same. Sure Lachne would eat just about anything, even bones, like the dumb goof he was. Celer and Aello wouldn’t be a problem as well. Lydia, though, was going to be a brat about what she was given.

The tavern wasn’t hard to find. It was probably the second biggest building in town next to the church. He could actually hear it before he could see it. Not that the building made any noise, but that the townsfolk were. Some sat outside at chairs and tables beneath the porch that stretched along the sides of the building. Talking, laughing, telling stories amongst friends and drink. They paused when they saw the bundled up man approaching. A stranger in town? Oh no. Better shit yourselves. They didn’t stare long though. Seeing the dogs the man travelled with seemed to calm them down. Maybe they figured someone who wanted to cause trouble wouldn’t be wandering around with such a distinguishable thing to tell the authorities. “Oh yes the man who robbed and killed the town was walking with four distinct kinds of dogs he’ll be easy to find.”

Walking up the steps and pushing open the door he was greeted with the warm air of a fireplace. Two of the tavern's waitresses stopped to look at him, as well as a few of the patrons, as the stranger looked around and found an empty seat further away from the others. The owner and the bartender blinked. He was a heavy set man with a barrel of a belly hanging out in front of him. Balding, with a thick mustache, and rather large forearms. Perfect for throwing problem people out. ”We don’t allow pets.” he said immediately and loudly. ”They’re trained and well behaved. They won’t cause any problems.” the owner replied, stopping in his tracks to address the owner. ”Doesn’t change the rule.” he shot back without caring. The owner raised an eyebrow and sighed. ”I won’t leave my dogs outside in the cold to get snatched up. I was gonna pay for meals for the four of them, myself included, so if you don’t want that coin I’ll take it elsewhere.” he replied back, his eyes locking onto the brown ones of the owner. He sneered, looked at the owner then the dogs, and sighed. ”Take the furthest table. Don’t let them bother the others.” he said with a grimace and a wave of his hand, not pleased with himself for letting greed win.

The stranger nodded, already deciding on that table, before making his way across the room and finding a seat at the circular table. His hounds followed after him and, like she usually did, Lydia found herself in one of the chairs with her head peeking over the edge of the table. ”Oy. What’re you doing?” the man asked as he leaned the chair back on its two back legs and rested his feet up on the table. His wisteria colored eyes blinked as he noticed one of the waitresses approaching and, with a quick sigh, slid one hand's fingers under the seamed cap he was wearing and the others into the scarf he was wearing. ”Is there anything I can get-” the moderately lengthed black haired, and actually pretty, woman began to ask before her words got caught in her throat. Upon removing his cap the man's silver hair was revealed to the world. Combed downwards the man had a few bangs now covering his eyes. His face now fully revealed with the removal of ths scarf, Kaden Silva opened his eyes back up to see the waitress staring at him.

”Yeah. Can you get me something hot. A stew would be best. And some wine. And some warm meat and water for the dogs. Your cheapest is fine.” Kaden ordered before hearing a disgruntled grumble from Lydia. He frowned at the dog before sighing. ”Three orders of your cheapest meat and some lamb for her.” the Silva corrected. With his orders taken down the noble opened his eyes back up to look at the golden furred dog. ”Happy?” he got a snort and a wag of the tail as a response. ”Picky brat.” he commented, slinging one arm back behind the head of his chair and closing his eyes to relax in the warmth while he waited for his food to arrive.

Didn’t take too long, though it certainly felt it. Opening his eyes back up to two waitresses now, one giving Kaden his food and the other placing small bowls of what looked like smoked meats to the three dogs on the floor. She smiled and gave them some pets. Kaden noted she looked happy. Lydia, looking as entitled as ever, sniffed at the food she was given before taking a nibble. It seemed she approved because she started scarfing it down. ”Thanks.” Kaden replied as he lifted his feet off the table and looked at what he was brought. A thick broth, meats and potatoes, carrots. He frowned at the carrots but decided to just eat. He was hungry and this was hot food. No need to be so damn picky. Taking his wooden spoon he began to dig in at a moderate pace. It was edible. Nothing more. Wasn’t particularly good. But when he took the wooden flagon and brought it to his lips for a drink he nearly spat it out.

”What do you people piss in the grapes?” he practically shouted, disgusted by the poor quality of the wine he was given. He got some glances from the bartender and decided to frown and live with it. This was the consequence of travelling. You didn’t get the best anymore. Kaden remained quiet from that point forward. He chose to just focus on his meal and the comfort of the fireplace. Lifting his head to look out the window he frowned as he saw the weather taking a turn for the worse. Snow was whipping wildly as the wind picked up. ”Do you have rooms for rent?” Kaden asked loudly at the tavern keeper. ”All full. I can loan you the spot under the staircase if you need it. Shit’s gonna get bad tonight. You can always try the church if that’s not to your liking.” the man said with a shrug before both of their attention was pulled to the door being slammed open.

”Daurth! Three schnapps!” came the demand of an incredibly heavy set man. Bald. Ugly as sin. With a lower lip larger than his top one. Maybe a little under five eight. Followed by a lanky, much taller, this an oval shaped head. Trailing behind the two was a smaller, thin haired, blond bloke who couldn’t be much older than Kaden. Or maybe younger. Hmm.. Kaden thought to himself as he narrowed his wisteria colored eyes a little. He didn’t get a good feeling from those three. With their drinks delivered they got to sucking down what they were given like a parched man in a desert. The heaviest one proceeded to then spit on the floor. ”What ahm I supposed to do when I find my goat layin on her side in the field fucked within an inch of her life and a naked man with bloo and straw all over his peck?” the fattest one suddenly asked the tall lanky one. Immediately Kaden grimaced.

”You hit him with a shovel!” the tallest one replied earnestly. ”Fucking right I hit him with a shovel! But then guess what? That damn Magic Knight passing through says it’s my fault. That I was the aggressor! Bleedin bastard just decided to ignore my poor sheep just because I put that scab fucks eye out.” the conversation continued. ”Oh I have to pay a damn fee for it. While that bastard is being cared for over there at the church by some new shifty eyed fuck. More like a tax. More money for the nobles in the capital while they choke the life out of us, their bread baskets! Those good for nothing old families would starve to death if not for us! Like the Silva. Who control all the power and suck off the King for all they got! Because to them we don’t matter. None of us fucking do. Where did you come from? Where did any of us come from?” the fat one asked to his two compatriots. The tallest one and short one shrugged.

”We came from shit! We work and work as slaves to those royal bastards despite the fact that we are the real backbone-”

”You’re nothing. The literal equivalent of dog shit left on the side of the road.” the drunken mans ranting were suddenly cut short by the silver haired mans interruption from the back. Naturally they turned, questioning who not only interrupted them but then insulted them. ”What did you just say?” the large man asked, turning his head one way and taking a few steps in Kadens direction. ”Didn’t hear me or just too stupid to understand? I said your less than dog shit. My mutts turds have more value than you do. This is why your place in the world is at our feet. You’re undesirable. Not special. Worthless. That’s why your place is here in the mud and the great families sleep comfortably in the capital.” Kaden explained, lifting his mug to his lips and swallowing down more of his terrible wine.

The tallest one blinked and lifted his eyes to Kaden’s hair. ”That hair… you’re a Silva!” that declaration seemed to catch people's attention. ”That I am. Glad to see one of you is smart enough. Saves me having to explain my importance.” Kaden replied with a smirk and a shrug. ”What was that you were saying about me being shit? You think you’re something special, Silva? You’re nothing but a pampered city boy who doesn’t know jack shit about hardships or working a day in your life! Families like yours suffocate folks like me and my own for all we’re worth for nothing in return!” the farmer shouted, earning him three sudden growls and barred teeth. ”Down.” Kaden ordered, prompting his three dogs to settle down. Lydia remained calm and quiet, watching the situation. ”I told the nice barkeeper none of you would be a problem.” the man commented, petting Lachne on the head.

Raising his eyes back up the drunk farmer Kaden sighed. ”Look, I’ve simply had a few drinks and ran my mouth. No need to get mad. Have a drink on me and go back to complaining about your rutt in life. I just want to go find a nice bed to sleep in.” Kaden commented as he got to his feet, deciding it was best to not further engage in this situation. But before he could go anywhere a large hand placed itself onto his chest and pushed him back. ”Oh you can sleep right here. Family Silva. House of Silva. One less of you in the world would make it a better place.” the farmer suddenly threatened. ”Oy! Knock that off now!” the barkeeper suddenly shouted. ”Shut it.” the tallest one replied.

Kaden though only chuckled. ”Are you threatening me? But you don’t have your shovel.” he said smugly as his thin lips began peeling themselves back across his face into a grin. ”Don’t need it for a nobody like you.” A nobody? Kaden frowned as he pulled his coat to the side to reveal, attached to his left thigh, was the holster for a book. ”You know what this is, don’t you? Get this through your pig shaped drunken head. Whatever magic you might have is nothing compared to me.” the Silva threatened as his eyes grew cold. The farmers pulled out grimoires of their own that began to illuminate with magic as they readied themselves for a fight despite the bartenders outcries. Now Kaden understood the carriage drivers warning. This was a town that despised the nobility. This made Kaden enemy number one.