...INDAGIAN'S MAP...

...https://imgur.com/a/y46gJAK...

...PROLOGUE...

It has been 19 long years since Geralt claimed the throne, ending the once-powerful Valnheron bloodline and leaving their legacy in complete ruin.

In an act of daring rebellion, Winterbane and Stormrider joined forces to overthrow the tyrannical Valnheron dynasty. With his sword wielded with deadly precision, Geralt clashed against the mighty Valnheron's dragon, "Vyreth", in a battle that shook the very skies. Meanwhile, Rein Winterbane engaged in a fierce duel with the crown prince, Zephyros Valnheron, their swords flashing in a lethal dance. In the end, Winterbane emerged victorious as he struck down Zephyros, bringing an end to the oppressive rule of the Valnherons.

Some criticized Rein for allowing Geralt to take the throne, but in his opinion, slaying a 120-foot dragon was far more perilous than defeating a 16-year-old boy.

As Geralt stood before the remaining lords, they all knelt in reverence to show their respect. Grateful for his bravery and loyalty, Geralt bestowed upon Rein lordship over his late father's lands of Coldcave and Dragon’s Hill, previously owned by the Valnherons.

Even after 19 years, Rein and Geralt are still known as "Disciples of the deity", and now Geralt is traveling to reunite with his lifelong comrade in Coldcave.

REIN

Rein stood on the balcony, watching the dawn break over Coldcave. The sun’s soft rays cast a warm glow across the land, painting the sky in shades of blue and orange as birds filled the air with their cheerful melodies. It was a moment of pure serenity, a rare glimpse of beauty in the often bleak northern landscape. As his children played nearby, laughter filling the courtyard, Rein’s mind drifted to the sacrifices made for this peace.

Suddenly, his seneschal, Henrik, approached in a hurry. Breathless, he handed a letter to Rein.

“What’s the matter, Henrik?” Rein asked, his brow furrowed.

Henrik took a moment to catch his breath before replying, “My lord, a letter from the messenger.”

Rein took the letter, his gaze lingering on the seal as a wave of unease washed over him. It bore the mark of the Stormrider family. With a deliberate motion, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter, glancing at Henrik and then at his wife, Adeline, before reading aloud:

“To the Honorable Lord of Coldcave,

It is with great respect that I inform you of the impending arrival of Geralt Stormrider, the esteemed ruler of the Nine Lands. Accompanied by his wife and children, he shall soon set foot upon the lands of Coldcave.

The purpose of his journey is to visit Frostspire Keep, where matters of importance require his attention. Please ensure that preparations are made to receive him and his family with the honor befitting their station.

By His Majesty’s Command.”

Without a second thought, Rein tossed the letter into the fireplace, the flames consuming the parchment.

Before he could speak, Adeline’s voice cut through the silence. “Why is His Majesty visiting the North after twenty-three years?”

Rein chuckled softly. “Perhaps he hasn’t forgotten he has a friend up north.”

Henrik, still lingering nearby, asked, “Are you pleased, my lord? What if he’s coming for more than just a visit, especially with the Hand of the King’s seat vacant?”

“I don’t know,” Rein admitted, his thoughts racing.

“When will His Majesty arrive at Frostspire Keep?” Rein inquired, turning back to Henrik.

“If the weather holds, within three weeks,” Henrik replied.

Adeline quickly added, “We need to start preparations for His Majesty’s arrival,” and with that, she and Henrik left to make arrangements.

Rein remained on the balcony, watching his two young sons in the courtyard below. Clad in padded armor, they dueled with wooden swords, their movements fluid and synchronized, a testament to their training. Sunlight glinted off their mock blades as they parried and lunged, their faces alight with determination.

SERAPHINA

In the Republic of the North, Seraphina stood in the grand halls of her late father’s friend’s palace, her gaze drifting to the mountains that loomed in the distance. They served as a constant reminder of the strength she needed to reclaim the throne that had been stolen from her family.

“I escaped the king's court when I was only two,” she thought, her mind flashing back to that chaotic night. Clutching her one-month-old brother, Vernon, she had fled into the unknown. Now, years later, they live in the republic of North, in their late father's trusted friend's palace.

As she looked out the window, Vernon approached, his voice filled with determination. “Do you think we can really take back the throne, Seraphina?”

Standing tall at 6'1", Vernon’s athletic build and striking silver eyes reflected the strength of his lineage. His dark hair was neatly styled, and he wore fine medieval garments that bore the gleam of his Valnheron amulet.

“It's our throne..........we have to take it,” Seraphina replied, her eyes fierce. “We are the last of Valnheron. Our blood is filled with the courage of our ancestors.”

“But we are just 2 Valnheron and I am just a kid,” Vernon murmured, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“You may be young, but you’re destined for greatness,” Seraphina said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The throne belongs to you. My goal is to see you where you rightfully belong.”

Vernon’s face brightened. “And then we can attack Indagian?”

Seraphina smiled, though her expression remained serious. “Yes. But we must be strategic. We need alliances. There are families here in the Republic of the North who despise the usurper in Indagian. If we can gain their support, we will have the strength we need.”

“What do we do first?” Vernon asked, his enthusiasm evident.

“We start by reaching out to the Northern clans,” Seraphina said, her mind already forming a plan. “I’ll write to the leaders, reminding them of our family’s legacy and their own grievances with the usurper. If we rally their support, we’ll be unstoppable.”

Just as they plotted their next move, the heavy door to the chamber creaked open. Lord Edric, their father’s trusted friend, entered, his face bearing the wisdom of his many years.

“Forgive the interruption, Seraphina, Vernon,” he said, his tone serious. “I bring news that may interest you.”

Seraphina straightened, her heart quickening. “What is it, Lord Edric?”

“There is a fallen house in the Republic of North, House Darnell,” Edric began. “They were once loyal to the Stormriders but felt abandoned after your father’s death. They hold a deep grudge, and they seek a way to restore their honor. If approached carefully, they may be willing to support your cause.”

“But why would they help us?” Vernon asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Because aligning with you could restore their lost status,” Edric replied. “And it could weaken the usurper’s hold on the throne. They see your claim as a way to regain their place.”

Seraphina’s heart stirred with hope. “What should we do?”

“We must act quickly,” Edric urged. “Offer them reconciliation. Make it clear that together, you can take back what is rightfully yours. Their support could be crucial.”

“We can do that, right, Seraphina?” Vernon asked, his eyes wide with determination.

Seraphina nodded, her resolve hardening. “We’ll reach out to House Darnell. Together, we will reclaim our future. The Stormriders won’t stand in our way any longer.”

...GERALT...

Three weeks had passed since Geralt sent the letter to Rein Winterbane. The journey north had been grueling, filled with harsh winds. Yet now, the towering peaks of Frostspire Keep loomed ahead, cutting through the gray sky.

Geralt’s breath was steady, but doubt lingered in his mind. Would Rein be the same man he once knew? Or had time and distance turned them into strangers? He tightened his grip on the reins, urging his horse forward, each step bringing him closer to an uncertain reunion.

The years apart weighed heavily on him. What awaited beyond those gates? An old ally, or a distant ruler with no place for past bonds? Geralt had prepared for either. He knew one thing for certain as the keep's walls grew closer: there was no turning back now.

Geralt's gaze landed on Frostspire Keep, its imposing silhouette looming a kilometer away. A thrill of excitement surged through him as he snapped the reins, urging his horse into a swift gallop.

Geralt glanced back, but his group was nowhere in sight. In the next moment, a chill swept over him, sending goosebumps across his skin. He urged his horse to turn around, but no matter how far he rode, there was nothing in sight. After what felt like ages, a vision flashed before him—his battle with Vyreth. He could hear Vyreth speaking in the ancient tongue of High Velqaar.

"Norr e'gal'thar ven, Vorun e'valr ven. Zira velra'kel, nira kanthar vorun e'valr ven," Vyreth muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Geralt's Royal Sentinel called out, "Your Majesty, wait!"

Geralt turned and saw his Royal Sentinel approaching. Behind him, the royal carriage came into view, and a wave of relief washed over him. He glanced back at the sentinel and said, "Ser James."

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" Ser James asked, noticing the sweat on Geralt's face despite the cold.

Geralt gave a brief nod. "Let’s return to the group."

"But, Your Majesty, we're already so close to Frostspire Keep," Ser James replied, glancing past Geralt.

As Geralt turned back and saw the hill, Frostspire Keep loomed ahead, shrouded in mist and enveloped by lush forests. Its towering spires and intricate stonework, along with ornate windows, evoked a sense of awe and mystery. The overcast sky cast a dramatic shadow over the ancient fortress, enhancing its haunting beauty and making Geralt feel the weight of its history.

Gazing at Frostspire Keep, Geralt urged, "Let’s move; the others will be here soon." With a swift motion, he spurred his horse onward. 

...REIN...

After the arrival of the letter, the entire Frostspire Keep busied itself with preparations for Geralt Stormborn and his family. Rein Winterbane was also occupied with the arrangements. While he was discussing details with the workers, Seneschal Henrik approached and said, "My lord, I've received word that His Majesty and his Royal Sentinel were seen near Frostspire Keep."

Hearing this, Rein felt a twinge of unease and asked, "Only His Majesty and Ser James?"

"Yes, the others were said to be following close behind," Henrik responded.

Rein glanced around. "Where's Adeline?"

"Lady Adeline is already at the main hall entrance," Henrik answered.

"Then go find Lyra, Jareth, and Ronan, and send them there," Rein ordered before heading toward the main hall entrance.

...ADELINE...

Adeline stood at the entrance of the grand hall, waiting for Rein and the children to arrive so they could greet Geralt together.

Sensing Rein's presence beside her, she turned, arms crossed in irritation. "Rein, why are you so late? And where are the children?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"I apologize, my lady," he murmured, placing his hands gently on her waist, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Before she could fully react to his touch or the playful smile, Lyra darted past her, a flash of movement with Ronan's sword clutched tightly in her hands.

"Lyra!" Adeline shouted, her voice sharp as she watched her daughter sprint off with the iron sword.

Ronan, her eldest, was right behind, chasing after her. Before he could catch up, Henrik swiftly intercepted, lifting Lyra and bringing her back to Adeline's side. Jareth had already made his way over to Rein.

Adeline's eyes blazed with anger. "What in the world are you two doing?"

Lyra handed Ronan's sword back with a defiant look. "He said I can’t do any fighting."

"Ronan!" Adeline snapped, glaring at Ronan.

"I was just teasing, mother," Ronan said, sheathing his sword with a grin.

Before Adeline could respond, Henrik stepped forward. "My lord, His Majesty has arrived."

In a rush, everyone gathered in order. Rein stood at the front, followed by Adeline, then Ronan, Jareth, and Lyra.

...REIN...

As Geralt dismounted his horse, Rein and the others immediately dropped into a deep bow, sinking to the ground. With one knee bent and the other folded beneath him, Rein sat in a position of respect, his head bowed low.

Looking down, Rein spoke with unwavering respect, "I, Rein Winterbane, Lord of Coldcave and Dragon's Hill, bow before you, the Protector of the Nine Lands. Under your reign, the skies hold their breath and the earth stands still, for your power commands all that is and all that will be."

"Get up," Geralt commanded.

Rein stood, locking eyes with him.

"You haven't changed at all, you damn Winterbane," Geralt said with a laugh, pulling Rein into a hug.

"After 19 years?" Geralt asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Rein replied.

Geralt released him, shaking his head. "To hell with this 'Your Majesty' nonsense. That title weakens our bond."

Rein smiled. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. A word can't sever the bond between the disciples of the deities."

Still grinning, Geralt turned to Adeline and embraced her. "You've gained a little weight, Adeline."

Letting her go, he added, "You're misusing your power, Your Majesty," she said with a smile.

Geralt and Rein laughed together.

Geralt glanced at Lyra. "You've got a beautiful daughter."

Rein gave a nod. "You should rest, Your Majesty. The journey must’ve been exhausting."

"Shut up and follow me, Rein," Geralt said, heading towards the basement.

Rein exchanged a glance with Adeline and Henrik, then followed. Once they were alone where no one could overhear, Rein’s face grew serious.

"Is something wrong?" he asked with concern. After a pause, he added softly, "Geralt?"

Geralt met his gaze and said, "Rebellion is in the air."