Date: August 1, 541 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
August in the North had nothing in common with the gentle summer of the central provinces. Here, this time of year brought only heavy leaden clouds and a piercing wind that seemed to blow the very life out of all living things. The fortress "Lonely Peak" stood on a mountaintop, shrouded in eternal mist, and only the measured thuds of training swords broke the silence of this harsh place.
Kaedan was on the far training ground, reserved for those who had already crossed the threshold of simple apprenticeship. The young man stood in the center of a circle, his torso bare despite the icy air, sweat streaming down his body. He was completely focused on his inner rhythm. Around him, a gray shimmer vibrated in the air, growing denser with each second until it took the form of stone.
On Kaedan's shoulders rested massive basalt pauldrons, and his forearms were protected by vambraces of the same ancient stone. His chest was covered by a steel cuirass, which glinted dully in the light. The whole set—his Unbreakable Armor—now felt like part of his skeleton. Kaedan felt himself a true Warrior, whose inner essence had become so dense it could withstand blows capable of shattering a mountain.
"Kaedan!" Elwin's ringing voice cut through the silence of the ground.
The young man slowly exhaled, and the stone plates of his Spirit instantly dissolved into the air, returning to the depths of his Vessel. He turned. His friends were approaching: Elwin, whose eyes always shone with the hidden wisdom of Memory, and Liana, whose presence brought a strange feeling of freshness, even in this cold hell.
"You should take breaks sometimes," Liana handed him a thick towel. "You train as if the end of the world is tomorrow."
"In the North, any day could be the last," Kaedan wiped his sweat, his gaze remaining serious. "I feel I'm on the verge of something greater. My defense needs completion, but for that, I need a real battle, not shadows on the training ground."
"Well, battle may find you sooner than you think," Elwin came closer, his voice becoming quieter. "We've just been notified. In an hour, Grak the Axe expects us three in the Main Hall. And not just us. It seems something serious is being formed."
The citadel's Main Hall was hewn from the mountain's bedrock. The walls here were not decorated with tapestries—their only adornment were the shields of fallen heroes of the Order and deep grooves from weapon trials. In the center of the hall, by a massive stone table, stood Grak the Axe. His huge figure, corresponding to the Herald rank, seemed an immovable part of the citadel itself.
When Kaedan, Elwin, and Liana entered, they saw seventeen other knights lined up in two rows. The atmosphere in the hall was electric; each of those present possessed a weighty inner resonance, indicating the Warrior rank.
Off to the side, leaning against a column, stood a young man with cold blue eyes. He wasn't talking to the others, his posture was relaxed, but Kaedan felt a frightening density of power emanating from him. This was Iskon. Many rumors circulated about him: they said he grew up in the Order and his diligence bordered on madness. Iskon threw a brief, appraising glance at the trio and immediately turned away, as if losing interest in them.
"Atten-hut!" Grak's voice struck the ears like thunder.
The knights instantly froze. "From today, you are the Seventh Special Detachment of 'Lonely Peak'," Grak swept the formation with a heavy gaze. "You were chosen not because you are best friends, and not because you have beautiful armor. You are here because each of you has proven: your will is stronger than the northern ice."
The commander approached the table and slammed his fist on it. "The world beyond our mountains is beginning to crumble. Chaos seeps through the cracks, and ordinary patrols are no longer enough. Your detachment will carry out missions that will not be written in the chronicles. You will be where death breathes down your neck."
Grak pointed to Iskon, and then to Kaedan. "Iskon, you will lead the assault unit. Kaedan, you and your friends are responsible for defense and support. You are twenty blades of Order. You have no names, only duty. Tomorrow at dawn—first foray into the wastes. Dismissed."
As the knights began to disperse, Kaedan looked again at Iskon. He was the first to leave, not saying a word to his comrades. There was an unnatural precision in his movements, and the air around him seemed to tremble slightly.
"He's a loner," Elwin whispered, noticing Kaedan's gaze. "I don't think he'll be happy about our proximity."
"In this detachment, there is no room for loners," Kaedan gripped the hilt of his imaginary sword. "Sooner or later, he'll have to understand that even the sharpest blade needs a shield."
The young man felt his inner power respond to the challenge. His Warrior path had gained a new purpose. Now he was not just a defender of walls; he had become part of a force meant to maintain balance in a world slowly descending into darkness. And Kaedan was ready to become that rock against which this darkness would shatter.