The winter was billowing like righteous zeal outside Her Majesty's keep. For the life of him he could not fathom why Ser Derim had insisted in riding a war party out now of all times. The Dark ones that surrounded their home were treacherous and many, that was for certain, but even they would no journey under the biting cold of snow.
'Perhaps an excuse, to further bring back gifts to her Majesty?' He thought wryly as he swept the halls of the keep. As a simple servant boy, he had been lucky to have been under the gracious servitude of her Majesty. She was kind and forgiving to all of her people, and not a day went by that those in Utgarde keep starved or felt unsatisfied. Her Majesty was a good ruler.
"Oh you missed a spot Atlas!" An elderly voice said, the tone as smooth and beautiful as a the rustling wind against oak wood. The servant boy jumped and turned sheepishly at the older woman standing amidst the hall, staring disapprovingly at the small speck of dust on the suit of armor left to shine in the hallway.
"I'm sorry Miss Bethia!" Atlas stuttered, his tongue clicking. "I was just distracted is all! I promise it won't happen again!" Miss Bethia, the Head Maid, frowned at him before sighing in resignation. She stepped up and gave him a small peck on the forehead.
"Her Majesty give me strength, how clumsy of you," She admonished him. Atlas smiled sheepishly at her, shrugging his shoulders. Atlas was among the youngest in the servants tending to Her Majesty's keep. His father had been Her Majesty's butler until he had died tragically from hypothermia and his mother had died soon after, unable to bear the grief of losing her husband. As such, Miss Bethia had taken it upon herself to provide as much love and care upon him as possible.
"I'm really sorry," Atlas said, looking up at her. Without even knowing, Miss Bethia could always make him feel guilty. She was the kindest soul, the most radiant person in the keep baring Her Majesty. It ached to know that he had failed her in any way.
Miss Bethia smiled at him, so warm and fresh that Atlas wondered how the storm was continuing to billow outside. "I know," she said, kneading her fingers through his long mane of hair. She marveled at it, twisting it between her finger. "My, so handsome you are becoming. My little knight is going to be such a grand sight to see."
Atlas blushed. He wasn't that little; just shy of thirteen. He would be old enough to work in the ironworks, practicing his metalworking alongside Master Smith Dunwall. Atlas knew the chances of him becoming a knight were small and nothing more than fruitless dream, so he had decided that he would work as closely to them as possible. Besides, being a smith was as much an honored tradition as it was being given the title of Ser by her Majesty's hand.
"Miss Bethia," Atlas squirmed in her embrace, frowning as she hugged him close. "Miss Bethia! You're crushing me!" Miss Bethia giggled and pulled away, her warm smile still in place.
"I'm sorry, looking at you now...," she put a hand to her face as the tears formed at the corner of her eyes, "So many memories come back." Atlas didn't like seeing her like this and grabbed her waist, hugging her tightly for a second before taking a step back. The small show of affection was enough for her though and she was beaming at Atlas again.
Before Atlas could cheer internally at a job well done, Master Feriwelder, the Master Keeper of the Utgarde Legion, stepped into the hallway. His stainless silver metal armor was imposing on his figure. The chest plate was wrapped close to his chest with a curtain of chainmail stopping just above his knees. Dark royal blue cloth covered the intersections of his armor, the colour making its way onto his greaves were pain swirled in intricate snow motifs. On his right shoulder pauldron, the mark of her Majesty, Lady Dona's, Imperial Legion was emblazoned for all to see.
"My lady, I had not expected to see you here," the Master Keeper said but Atlas knew he was lying. The man's short but still gallant hair was combed to the side while still being wild and untamed. Intelligent but hopelessly lost green eyes were shining as he gazed upon Miss Bethia.
Atlas had heard that the man had held a torch for her, but Miss Bethia had been a wryly one. While he didn't like having such information be known to him about his mother figure, Atlas was still amused to see the lost puppy chase after the Head Maid as he did. "I am quite sure," Miss Bethia said, her tone a touch sarcastic and rhythmic.
"Atlas, it always a pleasure to be graced by your presence." The Master Keeper bowed graciously at Atlas, who giggled at the display. While Master Feriwelder was utterly lost with Miss Bethia, he had always been a strong brotherly figure to Atlas.
"Don't fill his head," Miss Bethia admonished, "It wouldn't do if you inflated his head now of all times."
The Master Keeper grinned and opened his mouth to say something else but the bellow of a horn, loud enough to cut through the louder one of the storm outside, was heard. "Ser Derim has returned. Master Feriwelder please return post haste!" The Captain of the Guard cursed quietly but smiled in apology at Miss Bethia.
"Her Majesty be Merciful, these Knights keep my old bones in motion," he said, before turning around and racing back to where he came. It was to be expected that he would run off like that, his duty to her Majesty outshines everything else. Miss Bethia watched him go with a sad smile before patting Atlas on the shoulder.
"Now go on or you'll miss him," she said knowingly. Atlas smiled up at her and handed the broom over. Knowing where he would be going she obliged and let him dash off after the Master Keeper. He passed through the winding pathways of the Keep, smiling at the brief rush of exhilaration that came from the many twists and turns. For a moment he imagined he was riding on the back of a horse, wearing gleaming armor with his hair flapping against his face. Then he skidded to a halt next to a window that overlooked the courtyard, smiling broadly when he saw he had arrived just on time. Master Feriwelder had just arrived, and nodded to the guards standing at attention by the walls. They saluted at him, not quite like knights but a laudable and envious action to take. Then the gates swung open, slowly at first, before opening wide enough to allow the twenty armored warriors on horseback to enter. Their arrival heralded a quick burst of snow to fill the courtyard though, bathing everyone there in a blast of harsh wind, before the gates closed completely.
Atlas watched in awe as the knights sitting atop the horses shook off the snow that had accumulated on their shoulders. Ser Derim, the knight at the front of the troop, hopped off his horse. His long flowing blue cape wrapping around his armored figure as he pulled his helmet off. Blonde locks pulled free, a charming grin on his face as he marched up the steps to greet the Master Keeper. They exchanged a hearty handshake and a boisterous laugh before the sounds of more horns, these ones more regal, signified their stance to grow in attention.
Atlas placed his hands on the limestone beneath him, watching as Her Majesty Lady Dona, stepped down from the keep's steps to greet her knights whom had all returned. 'Her Majesty is beautiful,' Atlas thought. Indeed, her long flowing white dress looked like the soft dough of settled snow, and her white hair rimmed her delicately pale features. A small mouth, turned upwards into a small welcoming smile, and eyes shining even amidst the dim lights in the courtyard.
"Her Majesty!" her honor guards yelled, "Her Majesty has arrived!" Yes, she was an existence that deserved to be announced, Atlas thought. For her Majesty was inviolable, and let no one impede her step. Her keep was the strongest amongst all of Mystral, her Legions strong and her Knights stronger. Her Majesty was the greatest, yet she was humble. Her Majesty was kind, not wicked, and wished only the best for her people. To unite the banners of Mystral to usher peace and prosperity, not for wealth, for her family had that in spades, neither for power, for she rarely sat on the throne that was crafted just for her. For the simple fact that it would cease the wars, the bloodshed, and bring life again in the cold desolate snow.
Atlas watched his Majesty move towards Ser Dermin, his mouth set into a small smile. A beautiful man, meeting a beautiful woman, Atlas thought. The knights all smiled warmly at their Lady, Her Majesty. The Legion soldiers that stood in formation banged their armored fists on their chests, heartily showing their loyalty to her order.
And Atlas watched, content to see Her Majesty whisper small words to the Knights, Ser Derim in particular, and greet her subjects below her. This was his life, and one day he had hoped to be among those very same Knights, to one day greet Her Majesty as they returned from a hard day of Dark One hunting. Then, for everything that he had once thought to be reality, shattered into a pile of broken ashen limestone.
He felt pain flare all around him, his face crashing to the ground, and eyes dimming.