Discoveries (i)

Location: Valenhart Estate, and Grand Hall

The grand hall of the Valenhart Estate was steeped in quiet opulence. Towering windows framed the soft northern light, though thick velvet curtains tempered its chill. A roaring fire crackled in the large stone hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls.

The table at the room's center was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its rich mahogany surface gleaming under the warm glow of gilded chandeliers.

Fredrick von Altona sat at the head of the table, his commanding presence softened by a rare look of ease. His jet-black hair framed calm gray eyes, and his relaxed demeanor made the room feel less like a formal dining hall and more like the center of a home.

Magda Valoria von Shelb sat to his left, her crimson eyes quietly taking in the scene, her jet-black waist-length hair falling neatly in its braid.

Opposite her was Flora Featherfield Valoria, radiant in a pastel gown that complemented her golden blonde hair, which fell in soft waves over her shoulders.

The table was laden with a sumptuous northern feast: roasted venison glazed with juniper berry sauce, steaming bowls of vegetable stew fragrant with herbs, and freshly baked rye bread still warm from the oven.

Between bites, Flora's laughter rang through the hall, light and unrestrained, a sound that seemed to lift the heavy air of Altona's ever-present winter.

"Magda," Flora said, turning toward her sister, her green eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you for coming all this way. I can't tell you how much it means to us. With you here, Fredrick and I can marry tomorrow without waiting for the temple's validation."

Magda offered a faint smile, her voice measured but warm. "It's my honor, Flora. Besides, this is long overdue. The North suits you." Her gaze flickered between Flora and Fredrick, her scholarly eye noting the ease of their camaraderie and the quiet affection in their shared glances.

Flora, once the effervescent life of the imperial court, had chosen this rugged northern stronghold to make her home. The decision had been both pragmatic and bold, born of a love that had driven her to outmaneuver Lady Halvora's impending marriage bill.

It was Magda who had suggested Flora flee to the Valenhart Estate before the legislation could pass, safeguarding her chance to marry Fredrick.

Fredrick leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes glinting with humor. "She's quite the match herself," he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. "Keeps me on my toes. Between her charm and wit, I've barely had time to think since we met."

Flora nudged him playfully, her cheeks flushing. "You make it sound like I'm bossy."

Fredrick chuckled, his deep voice resonating with warmth. "You call it bossy. I call it inspiration."

Magda watched their exchange, her chest tightening unexpectedly. There was a tangible warmth between them, a quiet joy that seemed effortless. It was a stark contrast to the guarded, complicated relationship she shared with Micheal. The pang of guilt she felt for deceiving him about her journey north surfaced again, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on Flora's happiness.

"You're lucky to have each other," Magda said softly, her voice tinged with wistfulness.

Fredrick's expression turned thoughtful as he met her gaze. "Luck, perhaps. But also loyalty. Valenhart men are taught to cherish their spouses—something my aunt Celeste always reminded me as a child."

Magda straightened slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Aunt Celeste? My mother?"

Fredrick nodded, his tone softening. "Oh yes. It's rarely spoken of now, but the late Empress Celeste was my aunt. She wasn't just adopted into our family; she was beloved. Grandfather found her the day Grandmother passed. She was just a child, but her resemblance to Grandmother was so striking that Grandfather believed she was sent to us as a gift."

The revelation left Magda momentarily speechless. She had always known of her mother's adoption, but this detail—the uncanny resemblance to her grandmother—was unexpected and oddly stirring.

"I didn't realize her connection to your family was so profound," she said finally, her voice quiet but sincere.

Fredrick smiled faintly, his gray eyes tinged with nostalgia. "Celeste was extraordinary. Grandfather doted on her, not because of her resemblance, but because of her brilliance and heart. Though an outsider by birth, she became the heart of our family. You remind me of her sometimes."

Magda's cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment, her voice almost a whisper. "Thank you. That means more than I can say."

Fredrick leaned forward slightly, his expression pensive. "She was called the wonder child. She was found during the Ice Phoenix cycle before the last one. Based on her intelligence and physical growth, the estate doctor estimated she was around ten years old. She grew up to be a genius healer."

Magda felt an unexpected sense of connection to the mother she had never known, a woman whose legacy seemed to ripple across generations.

Fredrick's voice grew quieter but carried a note of reverence. "Speaking of the Ice Phoenix, Magda, do you know the legend?"

As the conversation shifted, Fredrick's posture straightened, and his tone grew more reverent, echoing the grandeur of the hall. The warmth of familial conversation gave way to the weight of a northern legend, a tale as old as Altona itself.

"The Ice Phoenix," Fredrick began, his deep voice resonating with quiet authority, "is said to appear every twenty years, born from the icy winds of the North. It's not merely a creature—it's a symbol of resilience and loyalty, embodying the very spirit of our lands."

The room seemed to hush in response, the crackle of the hearth growing faint as if the legend itself demanded reverence. Fredrick's gray eyes gleamed as he leaned slightly forward, his hands gesturing subtly to punctuate his words.

"When the Ice Phoenix is reborn, it brings both renewal and upheaval. Its presence marks a time of trial—of beasts driven mad by mana surges and barbarian tribes thrown into frenzied chaos. But those who endure the storm find their lands and hearts renewed, stronger than before."

Magda listened intently, her crimson eyes narrowing as her mind worked to piece together fragments of lore and the disturbances she had observed since arriving in the North. "Every twenty years?" she asked, her voice sharp with curiosity. "Do you know when the next cycle begins?"

Fredrick nodded, his expression grave. "It's expected toward the end of this year. Already, the signs are here—the beasts are restless, their patterns erratic. Not just them, but the barbarian tribes of the Northern Wasteland. They raid more frequently during these times, driven by hunger as their lands become uninhabitable."

He paused, his voice growing heavier. "For the Duchy of Altona, the famine brought by the Ice Phoenix's rebirth usually lasts a year. It's difficult, but we endure with careful planning and support from the Empire. But for the barbarians of the Wasteland, it's far worse. Their flora and fauna wither, their lands turn hostile, and their food sources collapse entirely. Everything—plants, animals—frenzies and dies. For all we know, during this time, their only source of food is what they can steal from us."

Fredrick's jaw tightened, his gray eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and pity. "How they've managed to survive for so long is a mystery. The last Ice Phoenix cycle was particularly terrible. Their raids were relentless, their desperation unimaginable. It's said some tribes were wiped out entirely, unable to recover from the famine and its aftermath."

Magda's brow furrowed, her thoughts racing. "The last cycle… you mean twenty years ago?"

Fredrick nodded. "Yes. My elder brother was killed during one of their raids. They were more ferocious than we had ever seen. It wasn't just about survival—it was a frenzy, driven by despair. I can only imagine what horrors await if this next cycle proves to be as severe."

Magda's crimson eyes flickered with sharp realization. "There's a legend among the Sasoon tribes of the desert," she said, her tone measured but intense. "They believe their god, White Tiger Sasoon, dies every twenty years, and its death brings destruction to all around it. The timing aligns perfectly with your Ice Phoenix."

Fredrick and Flora exchanged a glance, the weight of Magda's words sinking in. "You think there's a connection?" Fredrick asked, his tone cautious but intrigued.

Magda nodded slowly. "The mana fluctuations I've sensed here—they're not random. The Ice Phoenix and the White Tiger legends may share a deeper truth. If the two phenomena are connected, it could explain the disruptions we're seeing now. Their deaths and rebirths may be tied to a larger cycle of mana destabilization."

Fredrick's expression grew serious, his gray eyes fixed on Magda. "If that's true, then the Ice Phoenix isn't just a family legend. It's a warning."

Flora, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward slightly, her green eyes wide with concern. "What does this mean for us? For Altona?"

Magda turned her gaze to Flora, her voice steady despite the weight of her thoughts. "It means we need to understand what's happening—and prepare. But tomorrow is your day, Flora. Let's focus on the wedding first. This can wait."

Flora smiled faintly, though the gravity of Magda's revelation lingered in her expression. "Thank you, Magda. For everything."

Fredrick placed a reassuring hand over Flora's. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together. The North endures—it always has."

Magda watched them silently, the quiet affection between them a bittersweet reminder of what she had yet to find with Micheal. Pushing the thought aside, she resolved to approach the challenges ahead with the same resilience as the Ice Phoenix.

As the meal concluded and the hearth's flames dwindled, the weight of the legend hung in the air, a silent harbinger of trials yet to come.