"I think they add to your charm," Katrina hummed as she traced the lines of Roran's tattoo.
The vast design stretched from his face all the way to his right foot. She trailed her fingers along the thick lines as they crossed his bare chest, and she smiled up at him, her light brown eyes gleaming in the morning sun, flecks of green swimming in the beautiful tawny pupils.
Newlyn had granted him his own house in Gil'ead, a medium-sized dwelling built from wood and stone. It sat within the walls of the fort, which had been expanded to encompass much of the outlying town. With gold that they had scavenged from Gil'ead's stores, they had been able to set up an early infrastructure, attracting businessmen and shopkeepers to live in the area. The regional armies were increased, and according to Newlyn, a host of three thousand could be raised, not counting the other houses and, of course, House Pike, which was now the supreme authority in the North.
Above Roran's bed the sigil of House Pike hung. It was a looming reminder of his duty, a reminder of what he had to protect. He turned towards Katrina and kissed her greedily, his lust for her growing each time their lips parted. Ever since he returned he had been with her constantly, taking part of her and holding her, her body nearly fully recovered from their shared ordeal. It seemed strange- so much had changed. How long had it been? They were nearing winter's climax, with snow storms battering them and heavy winds stalling their fast progress.
Roran looked at Katrina once more. As he stared at her, he remembered the woman from his dream, the woman that had given him his power.
He pushed the thoughts away.
They didn't leave him.
Gholobhor.
"What's wrong?" Katrina asked, rising from beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to their bed, her soft skin brushing against his cheek.
"That dream. The . . . The woman."
"She saved you." Katrina said softly, kissing the corner of his mouth.
"She saved you, and by doing so, saved me as well."
"But why, Katrina?" Roran mumbled.
"There was so much death . . . I . . . I died, Katrina. She brought me back. But for what?" Roran frowned, and Katrina pushed his hair away from his eyes.
"All that matters is that you're here, and that you're alive." She grinned at him, and he smiled back, weakly.
There was a shattering knock on the door. Roran swore and reluctantly rose from his bed, getting dressed in his new clothing : A black leather vest with the sigil of House Pike at the breast, combined with a white shirt with long sleeves. Ebony trousers covered his legs and he laced up fine boots that traveled halfway to his knees. Finally, he covered his body with a large fur cloak, clasped at the breast with a skull-pin, and pulled the hood over his head. He turned towards Katrina, who smiled sadly.
"I'll be back soon. It's probably nothing." He said, reassuring her. Katrina nodded.
Roran left their bedroom. A dying fire sputtered as Roran walked past the fireplace, a thing of fine stone, with an iron bar gate. Beside the fireplace a table was found, two seats devoid of bodies standing proudly at either side. A window was found opposite the table, and Roran frowned as he saw it was somewhat obscured by frost. Even this far south in the North, winters were harsh; they had just taken time to develop.
Roran opened his front door and was greeted with a Pike lieutenant, a middle-aged man dressed similarly to Roran. Behind the man Gil'ead was coming to life, albeit slowly.
People drowsily left their homes, and older children threw snowballs as the stuff accumulated on the ground. Men leaned on corners of buildings, smoking from smooth-wood pipes as their sons collected wood. Horses nickered, laboring as merchants wheeled through, their carriages turning up dirt and snow.
"Lord Newlyn Pike has required an audience with you, Captain." The man said, motioning Roran to the outside world. Roran moved from his doorway, pulling his hood closer around his face as a gust of wind blew by, his cloak billowing behind his feet. Two horses waited for them, and the lieutenant climbed onto his, Roran doing the same. They rode through the streets, snow falling softly around them as people cleared from their way.
"What does he need?" Roran asked, riding up to the lieutenant's left.
"There is news from the west." The man looked about uneasily as people moved below him.
"This is not the place to speak of these things."
Roran nodded, remaining silent until he rode up to the castle of Gil'ead. While the province retained the name, the castle itself had been renamed to Deligan's Fist, after Newlyn's father.
The gates opened to them as they approached. Roran rode through, dismounting with the lieutenant and entering the castle. The snow picked up as they rushed inside, instantly warmed as a heavy door closed behind them.
The man lead him through darkened halls, their wet boots squeaking on stone inscribed with runes. Finally, they came to a large set of doors reinforced with fine metals, guarded by two soldiers wearing full-helms and crossed lances.
The men opened the doors, and Roran strode through- spying Newlyn as he sat on his throne.
Newlyn was a Pike, but did not possess magic. Regardless, he was still a fearsome sight. He was large, with long hair and green eyes, darker than a bubbling forest pool in the height of summer. He sat heavily in his chair, a large cape sagging around his shoulders while his hand held onto the hilt of a savage-looking greatsword. His left hand, which was free, curled around the armrests of his seat.
Newlyn smiled as he regarded Roran.
"Ah, Magebane." Newlyn greeted, and Roran bowed.
"My Lord." He said, respectfully. Newlyn's eyes narrowed on the lieutenant.
"That will be all, Grayphen."
Grayphen left without a word.
"You have proven yourself time and time again, Roran. Not only in battle, but also with the work that has been done here. I've come to trust you more than some of my higher-ranking men." Newlyn said, rising.
He carried his sword with him, the large blade waving in the air as he lifted it before his face, running a hand down the pale metal.
"Your new . . . ability also makes you very valuable. An assets that will come as a surprise to our enemies." He said, and Roran followed him with his brown eyes, Newlyn pacing before him.
"I was never a man for grand words, Roran. But I have decided to adopt you."
Roran was shocked.
"My Lord?" He choked.
"You have the skills to be great. But not the connections. In adopting you, I give you the rights you need to rise as high as you deserve to be. You will retain your new surname, of course. It fits you. But as you are now under my wing-"
Newlyn approached Roran, sword gripped in both of his hands.
"Kneel, Magebane."
Roran knelt.
"You will defend the realm, with arms and might and intellect, protecting her and her children from those that would do us harm. You will be Lord of the destroyed area of Caravhall, and you shall be a new House, a cadet branch of my own, a lordling."
Newlyn tapped Roran softly on the forehead.
"Rise, Roran of House Magebane."
Roran rose, numb with shock.
"My Lord . . . I cannot thank you enough . . " he stammered. Newlyn's face sagged slightly as he sighed heavily.
"Not all is well. I have done this, Roran, because war will soon reach us. Sooner than I expected. Word has reached us that Morzan of the Forsworn has roused the Empire's strength, and has begun his march to reclaim the North."
"Morzan?"
"An ancient Evil. The Forsworn are former Riders, who rebelled and ousted the Langfelds over a hundred years ago. He lives, fueled by foul magic."
"I want you to lead one thousand men to battle, Roran. To join the rest of House Pike and her allies to defeat this foe. You will be joined by another Pike, Eleor Pike, who will lead an additional one thousand and twenty."
Roran was silent.
"With all of the Northern powers combined, we will be a formidable force. Alas, we will face hardened men, Southlings and Westermen, eastermen as well. Houses loyal to the Empire."
"I don't have a choice, do I?" Roran said quietly.
"No, Roran. You do not."
Decades passed in silence, the two men standing very still. Finally, Roran spoke.
"I will do it. I will lead a portion of your army against this Morzan."
"You do me great honor, Lord Magebane."
Roran stiffened.
I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Katrina. For her future.