In the middle of a rolling land stood a castle, hooded in mist, guarded by a thick high wall, enclosing the premises of the many connected buildings. It was unlike all the others in Araluen, for it did not have a single tower in its middle, but rather one large cross shaped construction, with additional add ons shooting out of every corner and curling out of the end like a saint's staff. The roof edges were decorated with blooming parapets, but not just for decorating, also to for archers to be shielded if the castle was ever attacked. For all of its beauty, it was as much a work of art as a fortress. 

A large pond stretched out at it's south end introducing the large well-kept gardens around it. Beds of flowers, fountains, labyrinths to dwell in, it was all a part of the charm. Enemies would be deceived to think this was just a palace, but this was the home of the high commander of the King's armies and a lethal trap. 

Surrounding the castle laid fields that were garnished with dozens of tents, an arena and wooden stands. Banging and shouts filled the cold morning air and carried over the castle grounds all the way to a man in a long dark green cloak, galloping over it. 

To the tall Ranger approaching on his brown mare, it was the first home he'd ever known. The hooves clacking on the draw bridge, the gravel crunching under Blaze's hooves, that was all too familiar. As he rode into the courtyard, Gilan could spot his father high up, standing in the bridge connecting two halves of one of the courtyard walls. He rode through the open archway, that was decorated by two green grass patio's alongside it. But for all of it's flashy exterior and decorative frills, inside it was still a barren castle, built to protect those in it. Sentries stalked the high walls and guarded the multiple Portcullis in that defensive barrier. However they let the Ranger pass, they'd seen his face many times after all.

He halted in the middle of the stone covered courtyard, everywhere he looked there was stone. The first time he had ever gotten drunk his father had found him there, crying in a corner because he thought the world had turned. Only the cherry wooden door, across the entrance arch was an indication of which stone was floor and which a wall. As well as the windows, small, laid in with plain glass and lead patterns. The kind you'd see in a church.

With a smooth jump, Gilan slid off his mount, giving her a small tickle behind her ears and an apple for her hard work. They'd rode a remarkable time, because in only a dew days time they'd arrived at castle Caraway. 

"You did well Blaze." He whispered to her lovingly, stroking her neck. His hand was covered in hairs, seeing as spring was coming and she was shedding her thick coat. Careful not to get it on his tunic, Gilan wiped it off. 

Of course I did, would you have expected anything else?

The ranger grinned, despite his aching heart. "Of course not."

With a loud bang the doors flung open, two men followed by a group of knights strode quickly over the square. One of them immediately took Blaze's reigns, leading her to the stables. Two of the other swordsmen patted him on his back as a warm welcome.

It had been a while since he'd visited Caraway, his life had been very busy and he knew he couldn't lie to his father about his apprentice. So, for the past four years he'd made himself scarce. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel a little good to come back home, where most of his childhood friends lived and the building he'd spent the longest living in. 

"Such a fine match this will be! It is good to have you back boy." The Baron marveled as he gestured for the company to come with him. He saw Gilan as a son of his own and tears of joy dwelled on his cheeks at seeing him again. The young boy had always confided in him when his father had pushed him too much at training or when he'd fallen in love for the first time. He was a long way from that lanky small boy, that made one bad decision after another the Baron thought. 

The tall Ranger met his father's eyes carefully, a black unreadable abyss. He bowed before Sir David and the battle master met his gesture with a short nod. For a moment the father allowed himself a bit of pride, for having raised his son with some sort of manner, even with Halt's influences.

"Father, I came as soon as I got your letter."

There they stood alone, as Baron Fergus and his men had already sought refuge inside. The dark thunder clouds were lurking outside the castle and the deep sound echoed all over the meadows surrounding it. Gilan furrowed his brows and pitied for the workers out on the fields setting up the tournament. 

The high commander of the King's army noticed the blackening sky as well and put a hand on his son's back. His eyes darted around the courtyard, facing the windows, scanning for servants listening closely and reporting to people who this news wasn't meant for. "We would be wise to discuss this subject further in the privacy of the Baron's study." They followed the elderly man who had been waiting in the door opening to his room.

The walk there seemed to drag on endlessly to Gilan as the only thing the Baron could talk about was the match, which would secure Araluen's relations with Picta. His only reactions were silent glances at his father. He knew he should be angry, but a small corner in his heart longed to get an approving nod from that man. If he objected, that would never be the case. 

As soon as they were warm and safe from the oncoming storm in the oak panelled study, a fourth man joined them. In Gilan's opinion he wasn't as much a man as a bear with his long red hair braided back, beard, though well kept, very long and skin pale as snow. Not to mention the man had to duck when he entered through the door. Even the tall Ranger could walk through it without any problem. A sharp blade peeked out from under the man's long black cloak that was collared with a dark animal fur and connected with a small iron chain. Under it he wore a dark red tunic, that was decorated with ancient Pictian symbols that few Araluanians dared to draw, cinched by a deep brown leather belt. 

"Lord Picard," The elder baron Fergus greeted the giant as an ancient family friend, by shaking his hand and attempting to sling an arm around his shoulder (Which the small man was a bit too tiny for, so it looked rather funny to Gilan and he had to hold back a smile.), "we are so pleased to see you again. It's been too long." 

It was true, the lord and his husband had been to Caraway many times over a decade ago, but when the two Kingdoms Araluen and Picta became uncertain with one another, so became the friendship between their two castles as well. 

"The time had to be now." The man spoke in a riddle with a thick Pictian accent, that was hard to understand, nodding his head slowly and focussing his iron gaze on Gilan, inspecting him from head to toe. 

Then he circled him, with surprising agility moving like a cat circling his prey. Each step heavy as an earthquake, but swift. A great warrior, that was obvious from the moment the man had walked through the door, but not a kind man our young Ranger assumed as the man's eyes were laced with a cold that could only be from the north. 

He stood still, glancing only at his father as Lord Picard poked his ribs and said: "He's ought to have some more meat on his bones if he's ever to conceive an heir, but he'll do." 

For a moment Gilan contemplated whether he had to be insulted or not. A part of him had hoped that he'd be immediately disapproved of, and wouldn't be eligible. Though the moment that hope started to become a reality, he'd found himself angry for not being good enough. 

"The two would make a lovely match," there was no reigning in the elder Baron's enthusiasm, "we will send out invitations for the tournament right away." 

The tournament in question was an old tradition among the Northern people. It counts seven days, each day a task to prove yourself worthy. Xogos Voda, they call it and it is only held to fall in love with a chosen candidate.

A heavy burden that was placed on Gilan's shoulders by his father that he had to carry alone. 

A/N:

Ah, I am so generous to put you guys out of the misery of not knowing what was going to happen next. A bit late, but alas, here it is. A new chapter. I'm going to write a chapter everyday this week so I'm prepared for when school starts again! This way even when it'll be stressful, there will still be a chapter ready every Friday as usual:). Question for today: Which aesthetic (For example, dark academia, fairy core, grunge, emo, cottage core, etc.) matches you the best?

Mine is light academia, because unlike dark academia it isn't so depressing and I like flowers. Plus academia is just my vibe, because even though school starts in two weeks for me I am already hyped and can't wait for it to begin again. Plus writing and reading is something very closely connected with the Academia aesthetic. And that concludes my essay on why Light academia is my vibe. 

See you Friday!

Xxx. Maddie