The knights' tweaks to the carriage design provided a modicum of comfort—or at least an illusion of it.
Meaning they piled the blankets on the floor so that Ravina could lay down while holding onto the cushions for dear life. A rough-hewn staircase was added, provoking more than a few worries about the knights' carpentry skills yet holding firm under her hesitant steps.
Six days of relentless travel blurred together, a chaotic symphony of jolts and bumps. Toward the end, Elyisa joined her in the carriage so she could heal her distress as they traveled, leaving the pair to hold on to each other for dear life.
Though Elysia was far more used to the rocky carriages, having traveled in them for a time, She secretly enjoyed the far more comfortable ride of the cushions, occasionally dozing off when she was supposed to be aiding Ravina's recovery.
Despite the rough start, Ravina gradually grew accustomed to the carriage's rhythm, her body learning to sway with its movements. By the time she achieved this precarious balance, they'd left the tower's silhouette far behind. The Emerald Forest receded in their wake and was replaced by the arid expanse of the stony desert before they finally rolled into the outskirts of Fort Ravyin.
The Fort Ravyin lay nestled between two towering peaks; it stood as a resplendent testament to the indomitable will of the kingdom itself. A defensive barrier to the world outside its borders. The city seamlessly integrated with its rugged environment.
Beneath the shadow of these grand mountains, Fort Ravyin thrived. Each morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat wafted through the main streets, luring sleep-heavy residents from their homes. The air bore a metallic tang, a nod to the ironworks that undergirded the city's booming industry. As the sun bid its farewell, the scent of the nearby rivers meshed with the enticing aroma of wines and spirits, painting an evocative picture of nighttime revelry.
The architectural magnificence of Fort Ravyin lay in its concentric walls, each marking a distinct chapter in the city's rich history. The first ring, constructed from aged cobblestone and reinforced with blackwork steel stone, housed the city's heart—a castle that held silent witness to the kingdom's earliest days. Enclosed within the second wall were the scars of once simple peasant huts; throughout the years, those old homes were transformed into elegant residences and bustling shops—a testament to the city's flourishing prosperity.
Each wall bore the imprint of Fort Ravyin's diverse history. The first wall, constructed from aged cobblestone, was reinforced with blackwork steel stone—a material with tenfold the strength of regular steel. Sandstone marked the second wall, reinforced in a similar fashion. The third wall, made of iron stone—a unique fusion of stone and iron—demonstrated the evolution in construction techniques. From the fourth layer onward, the walls were crafted entirely from blackwork steel stone.
Life in Fort Ravyin was a whirlwind of activity. Daylight hours saw the streets thronged with locals and travelers, while caravans laden with goods poured in and out of the city gates. The city's rivers abetted the steady flow of trade vessels, enhancing its economic vitality. Yet the city never truly slept; lively taverns and night markets filled the evening air with enticing scents, creating an irresistible allure. Fort Ravyin was a city where one could find anything for a price, and a shadowy undermarket existed to ensure 'anything' meant precisely that.
The omnipresent hum of mana suffused the city, originating from the numerous magecraft towers that harnessed this mystical energy. The city was home to residents of all standings—the heart of the city housed the Count, his family, and other noteworthy figures, while the second layer teemed with the opulent residences of the city's affluent. The third layer represented the bustling core of the city, playing host to a vibrant mix of individuals.
Closest to the mountains, a quarter of the city was dedicated to the military. Barracks, training grounds, and warriors of all kinds populated this sector, along with numerous adventurers and mercenary guilds vying to earn their fortunes.
As the caravan made their way to the city, the journey was uninteresting, and many of the passersby stared at the carts full of armored knights out of boredom rather than interest. For this city was at its heart a strategic location and formidable defenses made it a bulwark against invasions, providing a natural barrier to the kingdom's border against neighboring territories.
At Varis’ signal, two of the horsemen rode ahead of them, dashing to the gate. As the caravan pushed past the line of those waiting to enter, the guards at the gate pushed the line out of the way, giving the knights clear access to the city.
They marched down the wide, flat stone roads until they came upon a large opening in the road. This was a wide circular pathway that split into sixteen different paths. In the middle, a large park brought a lively touch of green to this part of the city.
At the city's junction, Varis issued his commands.
“Theron, Corvin, take your men to the knight’s hall for debriefing with the Operations Clerks. Then give them a three day. Fraven, Joren, you're on escort duty for our young charge,” he directed toward the carriage, calling inside it, "Elysia, keep up the good work. We’re nearly there." Unbeknownst to Varis, Elysia's 'good work' involved nothing more strenuous than sleeping soundly next to Ravina, both of them cocooned in a shared blanket.
With that, the caravan resumed its journey, diverging at the city's circular hub. Varis, accompanied by Fraven and Joren, remained with Ravina's carriage, while the rest veered down the seventh path, disappearing into the city's bustling labyrinth.
Fraven, a paragon of knighthood, cut a striking figure amidst the city's commotion. Rising from commoner origins, he had carved his path to baronetcy through an unyielding blend of skill, luck, and relentless determination.
Alongside him was Joren, a man built as if by a divine sculptor, his physique a testament to the rigorous discipline of the knight's order. His smoldering gaze held the command of a seasoned officer, and his face was an unreadable mask of authority and unwavering resolve.
Together, these three men were a spectacle in themselves, attracting more than a few curious glances as they guided the makeshift carriage.
As they traversed the city's different layers, the crowds gradually thinned. Thousands gave way to hundreds, dwindling further to mere handfuls. By the time they passed the final gate, an eerie silence had enveloped the streets. The formidable shadows cast by Kaelein's Keep seemed to drink in all light and sound, fostering an ambience of solemn intrigue.
Rising far above the city walls, the castle was an awe-inspiring sight. Menacing towers pierce the sky, and jagged spires reach towards the heavens. The castle's formidable presence commanded attention and instilled a sense of fear in those within its walls. Its cold stone walls betrayed a history steeped in darkness and power.
Divided into eight distinct sections, the castle had seven surrounding sections, like miniature cities nestled within the castle's embrace. Dwellings and structures housed the most notable nobles in the county, alongside exceptional commoners. Their presence brought life and vitality to the castle, ensuring that everything remained in good order. Each inhabitant played a vital role in the county's affairs, contributing to the smooth functioning and prosperity of Matharu's Pass. From these halls and houses, the county thrived, its power and influence resonating far and wide.
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The castle's heart, its eighth section, was a towering, formidable structure—the final bastion of defense. But as the years passed, this stalwart structure's purpose shifted. Its walls, once raised in defense, now housed those who planned and dreamed of a prosperous future.
As the group neared the keep, they passed knights standing sentinel, their vigilant eyes scanning for any hint of danger. The unmarked, hastily built carriage certainly warranted a second glance, but at Varis' signal, they allowed it to proceed unhindered.
Once they reached the castle's massive entrance, Varis dismounted and handed his horse's reins to the awaiting stable hands. He then turned to assist Ravina out of the carriage. Elysia, awakened by the carriage's sudden stop, managed to clean herself up just in time to follow Varis, sleepily rubbing her eyes when his back was turned.
“Sir Varis!” A voice called out to him as he guided Ravina inside. The man who only just recently passed the twilight of his life, still he had both keen eyes and a sharp intellect that were more than enough for a man his age. His demeanor and crisp attire hinted at a lifetime of service; he was the quintessential butler.
As Fraven and Joren handed their horses off to the servants, they caught up with Varis. The older servant's eyes landed on Ravina. "We weren't expecting you back so soon. Has something gone wrong?" he asked, an understanding shadow crossing his features.
Varis nodded once. The servant, surprised but quickly recovering, suggested, “Let's take her to the Red Room then.” Varis simply nodded again, and the group continued on their way.
The grand hallway of the castle's main entrance was nothing short of breathtaking, showcasing the meticulous artistry of masons from eras past. The path was paved with large, dark stones, their ancient edges worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, yet the integrity of their imposing presence remained unbroken. The black iron fixtures served as unyielding guardians, their presence a stark contrast against the somber stone, their intricate designs whispering tales of timeless craftsmanship.
The hallway was lined with faded black banners, each meticulously embroidered with the emblem of Ravenshield—a lifelike depiction of a raven poised atop the shaft of a raised spear, its ebony eyes gleaming with unspoken stories of valor and tradition.
Scattered across the corridor were elaborate objects of wealth and power: ornate chests adorned with gemstones, gold-trimmed portraits of previous rulers, and massive statues carved with minute precision.
Four large doors of solid oak stood sentinel on the ground level, their polished surfaces reflecting the faint glow of torchlight. Above them, a grand staircase spiraled upward to the next story, its intricate balustrades echoing the stonework's intricate patterns.
The ceiling, a massive expanse of detailed frescoes and vaulted arches, soared above, lending the space a sense of awe-inspiring majesty. Here was the castle's true treasure: a collection of six ornate window panels, much like those found in ancient cathedrals, each depicting a unique story from the kingdom's rich history and the ascension of the Ravenshields.
The first panel portrayed five men, weapons raised, the figure with raven-black hair brandishing a spear. The second illustrated a frenzied battle, with the black-haired man courageously leading the charge. The third window displayed this same warrior fending off monstrous creatures and nefarious demons, his bravery rendered in hues of scarlet and gold.
The fourth pane brought a moment of triumph: the king bestowed a sword upon the black-haired man in acknowledgement of his bravery. The fifth panel depicted the same man, now standing in the pass between two towering mountains, his sword holding a set of balanced scales—a symbol of justice and leadership.
Finally, the sixth panel paid homage to the Ravenshields’ crest, an echoing symbol of the family's enduring legacy. Each of these magnificent stained-glass creations filtered the sun's light, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that danced along the hallway, imbuing the castle's stark interior with a warm and welcoming radiance.
Turning right from the imposing main corridor, they proceeded into the first door, revealing a hallway of equal grandeur, though somewhat muted in comparison to the extravagant entrance. The transition was akin to moving from a masterpiece painting to an intricately penned sketch, each room boasting its own unique sense of regality.
Further along this hallowed path, they entered a grand waiting room. This room was bathed in shades of crimson, the color cascading over velvet drapes and richly woven rugs. The air seemed to hum with latent energy, each corner whispering tales of fiery battle mages and their victorious exploits.
Banners adorned the walls, each a tribute to those warriors with the power to command fire. The pictorial narratives told of the individuals who had harnessed their red mana for the sake of the kingdom and achieved glory in their countless victories. The depictions of fire, expertly embroidered on these banners, seemed to flicker and dance, casting a warm glow across the room.
Amidst these, the black banner of House Ravenshield held a place of prominence. Its raven-and-spear crest stood bold and defiant amidst the sea of red, serving as a steadfast reminder of their enduring legacy and influence.
Alongside it, five additional banners unfurled, each representing noble families bonded by their red mana lineage.
House Gredonour's banner was striking. Its crest was a brilliantly embroidered staff crossed with a sword, embodying the fusion of magic and might that characterized the members of this house. Their legacy was one of balanced power, harnessing both the physical and mystical realms in service of the kingdom.
Next was the banner of House Pri'tor. Their emblem was an ink bottle, intriguingly containing a flame within. This emblem was a testament to their house's long-standing tradition of scholarly pursuit and arcane exploration, where knowledge was their weapon and the flame within represented their burning passion for wisdom.
House Nevaranove's banner stood out, carrying a beautifully depicted raven's feather. This symbol spoke to their deep connection with nature and mystic creatures, subtly hinting at their lineage's affinity with the ancient and wise raven. Their members were known for their keen insights and strategic prowess, much like the bird their house revered.
The banner of House Physies was emblazoned with a magnificent phoenix, its wings spread wide in a display of power and resurrection. The phoenix, a symbol of renewal and cyclical regeneration, perfectly encapsulated the house's enduring spirit and its members' ability to rise from adversity stronger than before.
Finally, House Duhnmuur's crest was a pair of mana stones engulfed in a pool of flames. This symbol represented the house's unique ability to meld raw power with refined skill, showing their adeptness at manipulating mana amidst the most challenging of circumstances.
Each banner held a place of honor in the room, paying homage not only to the victorious battle mages but also to the enduring unity and shared heritage of these noble houses. Despite their unique paths and distinct legacies, they stood together under the shadow of House Ravenshield, a testament to the strength of their alliance and the shared purpose that bound them together.
The room itself was an embodiment of royal decadence, with opulent furnishings and intricate artwork, a testament to the kingdom's prosperity. Velvet-cushioned seats invited conversation, while beautifully carved wooden tables stood ready to hold goblets of wine or strategic battle maps. From the towering ceiling to the polished stone floor, every inch of the room breathed an air of grandeur that was truly fitting for a king.
Ravina could only swallow hard as she entered the room, stiffening at the entryway. It was only with Varis’ firm hand that she was allowed to enter inside. What kind of count was she about to meet? The city was one thing; the castle was another. But this room alone? What kind of guest room was this?
Varis pushed the girl into the seat she was too scared to sit in. “Stay here for a while; I’ll be back later.” He turned to Elyisa, Fraven, and Joren, already standing by the door. “Keep an eye on her.”
"Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Elyisa received an answer to her unjust suffering when they told her to ride with Ravina in the carriage. As the only girl in the order, she got stuck babysitting the kid. Which was fine for her; Ravina was cute enough, and she was so docile that she never needed anything from her—even now she was sitting ramrod straight and staying silent.
“Still, don't think we're not going to have a conversation about this later. Marthus, can you be a dear and bring us some tea and cookies? I don't think little Ravina has had anything good to eat in a long time.”
“I’ll handle it at once,” the servant, Marthus, said. By that, he meant he would have another servant handle it, and he would hurry away with Varis to discuss the uninvited but very important guest.
With that, Ravina, Elysia, Fraven, and Joren were left in the luxury of the red room.