Oleksandr opened his eyes slowly, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm radiance across the room. It danced gently across his face, coaxing him from the embrace of slumber. He took a moment to savor the tranquility, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat mingling with the soft rise and fall of Savka’s chest as she lay nestled against him. Her presence was a balm to his soul, a reminder of all that was precious and good in his life amidst the shadows of his past.

As he lay there, he couldn’t shake the lingering weight of Thekkur’s cryptic message from his dream, the words echoing in the recesses of his mind like a haunting melody. It felt as if his twin had reached out from the depths of a hidden realm, beckoning him to explore the truths buried beneath layers of sorrow and loss.

But it was the subsequent dream that clung to him most fiercely, the vivid vision of a childhood that had never truly been his. The laughter of two little boys racing through the birch forest, carefree and untouched by the harshness of being orphan slaves, played on a loop in his thoughts. That fleeting moment—so vibrant, so alive—was now an ache in his heart, a bittersweet reminder of the past that had been stolen from him, leaving only shadows in its wake.

He glanced down at Savka, her serene expression a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within him. She had given him solace in a world fraught with chaos, a connection that tethered him to hope and love. Yet even in this moment of peace, he couldn’t help but feel the heaviness of what could have been. The weight of longing pressed down on him, entwined with the vision of their mother, the life they had been denied.

With a sigh, Oleksandr shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Savka’s slumber. He longed to share with her the essence of the dream, to speak of the mother they never knew and the childhood that had been ripped away, but he also feared the sorrow it might bring. In the delicate stillness of the morning, he remained silent, allowing the bittersweet memories to swirl in his mind like the morning mist.

As sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the corners with golden light, Oleksandr felt a flicker of determination ignite within him. The past could not be changed, but the future was his to mold.

He took a moment to revel in the sight of her sleeping next to him, a sense of contentment settling in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to stay there in her velvety bed, with her in his arms, all day and all night, but a nagging sense of duty tugged at the back of his mind. He knew he had responsibilities - the king's orders, the mission to capture Oddvarr... He couldn't just stay here. Reluctantly, he began to stir, gently moving out of bed and rising to his feet. Moving quietly, he got dressed, pulling on his clothes with a stealthy precision. He didn't want to wake Savka, her peaceful expression, the way she snuggled into the blankets, was too beautiful to disturb. He pulled on his tunic, his breeches, and his boots, all while keeping an eye on her to ensure she didn't stir.

Oleksandr slipped out of Savka's room, making sure to close the door quietly behind him. The castle was quiet this early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to rise, bathing the halls in a faint glow. Oleksandr could faintly hear the sound of servants starting their morning tasks, coming from somewhere below.

He went to the training field and stepped into the blacksmith's workshop, the familiar scent of molten metal and sweat enveloping him like a second skin. The rhythmic clanging of the hammer on the anvil provided a steady backdrop, punctuating the air with a comforting resonance that echoed his own heartbeat.

He placed his prized Albanian scimitar on the worktable, its elegant curves glinting under the flickering torchlight. The blade had been his companion through countless battles, each scar and mark telling a story of survival and honor. As he stepped back, he felt a fondness for the weapon, knowing it held a piece of his spirit within its steel. The blacksmith, a stout and burly man with arms blackened from years of toil, looked up from his work, his beard bristling as he nodded in greeting.

“Good morning,” he grunted, squinting at the scimitar with a keen eye. “Need me to sharpen that for you?”

“Aye,” Oleksandr replied as he leaned against the table. “It’s seen better days. I need her ready for the next battle.” The blacksmith stepped closer, his hands calloused and strong as he examined the blade.

“Looks like you’ve been putting it to good use. A weapon like this deserves to shine.” He picked it up, running his thumb along the edge with a practiced ease. “I’ll have it sharp enough to slice through armor by the time I’m done.”

“Make sure she’s perfect,” Oleksandr said, a hint of urgency in his tone. “I can’t afford any mistakes.” The blacksmith chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

“Mistakes? Not on my watch. I’ll treat it as if it were my own.” Oleksandr grins.

"That's what I like to hear." The blacksmith sets the blade down with care before turning to his forge, igniting a fire that danced with eager flames.

As Oleksandr stepped outside the blacksmith's workshop, he heard a small, soft meowing sound. He paused, turning his head to see where the noise was coming from. There, under a small pile of hay in the corner, he could see the faint outline of a tiny brown and black tabby kitten. It looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, meowing again as it shivered in the early morning chill. The small tabby meowed in protest as Oleksandr picked it up by the scruff of its neck. Its tiny body dangled from his large hand, the kitten letting out a series of tiny mews.

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"Where's your mother?" Oleksandr murmured, holding the kitten up to his face. The cat blinked wide eyes at him, meowing pitifully and wriggling in his grip. Oleksandr continued on about his tasks, placing the small tabby on his shoulder under the shelter of his hair and hooded cloak. As he walked towards the guards barracks, he could feel the tiny creature settling, its small body warm against his neck.

The barracks were bustling with activity already, guards gearing up for their duties, sharpening weapons, mending armor, and discussing the day's plans.

"Morning, boys!" Oleksandr calls out, clapping his hands to get their attention.

"Morning, Cap!" The guards greeted him, pausing in their tasks to turn their attention to him. Several of them give a mock salute as he walked in, the sound of scraping metal and shuffling feet filling the room. Oleksandr watched the guards go about their business, assessing each one carefully. He observed the way they cleaned and sharpened their weapons, how they talked to each other, and how they prepared for their duties. He noted the young, inexperienced guards who seemed to struggle with their armor and weapons, as well as the older, more seasoned guards who went about their tasks with ease and precision.

As he observed, he watched as one of the older guards, Ezekiel, stood before a new guard. Ezekiel was a seasoned veteran, having served for many years. He had a few deep scars on his face and hands and a gruff, no-nonsense demeanor. Ezekiel patiently explained the day's rotations to the new guard, gesturing to the charts and maps pinned to the wall and pointing out the different positions and routes.

"Attention, men.” At Oleksandr's command, the chatter and noise in the room died down, the guards turning to face him. They stood at attention, their gazes fixed on him as they waited for his words. "I'm being sent away for a mission in a foreign land. I may not be back until next winter." The guards shifted and murmur among themselves, a mix of disappointment and surprise at his words. Several of them cast looks towards Oleksandr, their expressions ranging from curiosity to worry.

One of the guards, a particularly young man with a boyish face, spoke up. "Where are ya gonna be goin', Cap?"

"I can't say much, but I'm going north. Because of this, you will be without a captain for about a year." Ezekiel, the older seasoned guard, stepped forward slightly.

"You say 'bout a year? A whole year without our Cap? Who's gonna be in charge then?"

Oleksandr grins at him. "You, if you're up for the task.” Ezekiel's eyes widened in surprise, a look of shock crossing his face.

"Me? You serious, Olek?" The other guards in the room looked just as surprised, several of them turning to look at Ezekiel with expressions ranging from awe to slight jealousy. Oleksandr nods, leaning against the wall casually.

"Yeah, I'm serious. You're the most experienced and competent out of the lot of them. Plus, you've been here longer than I've been alive. I trust you to keep these men in line." Ezekiel looked at him for a moment longer, then a look of determination crossed his face. He puffed out his chest slightly and put his hands on his hips.

"All right then, Cap. I'll do it. You can count on me to keep these boys in check." Oleksandr stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. Ezekiel took it firmly, his grip strong and steady.

"I'll make the arrangements. Hold tight and continue on with your usual duties until then."

"We'll keep things running smoothly while you're gone." Ezekiel said with a nod. "Just make sure you come back in one piece, will ya?"

"I'll try. Take care of Her Highness." Ezekiel smirked at that, understanding the seriousness in his eyes.

"Her Highness is safe and sound with us around, don't you worry. Just be careful up there in the north. I've heard it's colder than the devil's heart up there."

"I am no stranger to ice, or the devil." Oleksandr says with a wink, turning on his heel to leave the barracks. The guards chuckle at Oleksandr's comment, some of them calling out their mock insults and farewells as he turns and walks away.

"Aye, don't freeze your ass off up there, ya big oaf!"

"Bring back some of them fancy northern women, will ya?"

"You better not forget us, Cap!"

Oleksandr grins as he waves back over his shoulder, the jests and comments of the guards ringing through the air. As he exits the barracks, the cat on his shoulder lets out a tiny meow, purring against his neck. He reaches up and scratches it behind the ears.

"Be quiet, little one. We still have work to do." The cat purred louder at the attention, its small, contented rumble being the only response.

As Oleksandr entered the throne room, he took in the bustle of the activity in the large room. Servants ran around, cleaning and preparing the room, and a group of courtiers and advisors were gathered together, talking in hushed tones. He spotted the king on his throne, settling into his seat, and approached him. The king looked up as he approached, a look of respect on his face.

"There's my knight. So, you are preparing to embark to the North this afternoon?" Oleksandr nodded, standing before the king with a stoic expression.

"Aye, Your Grace. I am ready whenever you need me to leave."

The king nods. "Swell. How can I be of assistance?” Oleksandr thought for a moment, glancing around the bustling room. "I'll need supplies for the journey. Food, water, warm clothing, shelter, that sort of thing."

"Consider it done. What about a horse, and some men to accompany you?" Oleksandr shook his head, a determined look in his eye.

"No, I won't need company. As for a steed, my boy Deago will suffice. He's the strongest I've seen." The king raised an eyebrow.

"Are you really going to undertake this journey on your own? It's a treacherous land up there in the north, son. You could use a few good men to accompany you."

"I’m going to recruit one of my own men. I'll get him myself."

"All right then. You know best, Oleksandr. Who is this man you have in mind, anyway?"

"An old comrade."

The king nodded, a note of interest in his eyes. "Someone trustworthy, I presume?"

"Plenty."

"Ah, good, good. Trustworthy companions are not often easy to come by in this world. You must think highly of this man, then. I hope he lives up to your expectations." Oleksandr follows the conversation up with some of the castle’s management, making arrangements for Ezekiel to take over as substitute, and possible permanent replacement...