11th of the 12th Cycle
Aether released a puff of mist, feeling the cold set into his bones.
It was well and truly winter in the Land of Wind. The trees were lifeless and skeletal, adorned by gleaming icicles which looked to be crystalline leaves from a distance. A thin layer of frost covered every surface, from the wood of the prison cart he sat upon, to the silver armour of a thousand marching knights.
A thick blanket of snow covered the ground - beget by heaven-given wintry stars - gradually thinning out as they made their way further south.
Even despite his biology, the cold air stung at his cheeks - the everswept breeze that gave the Land of Wind its name neverending.
He even dared to think the Grandmaster was a fool for departing at this time, in the midst of the frozen moon. That was until he learned that winter would not end until the third moon of the new year, and that this was the best time to depart - when the cold season was still in its infancy.
And so the expedition departed, over a thousand strong, ploughing into waist-high snow.
They made good progress regardless, which Aether did not know whether to think it was good or bad for him - considering they were riding to his potential material death. Head Mage Lisa had joined the expedition with some two-hundred of her best mages, and they plied their trade with exceptional skill - summoning wind spirits and chanting psalms to blow the ice and snow from their path.
Their hymns filled the air, melodies visible and dancing upon the wintry sky - their voices gave them their names, spellsingers.
All staples of Gwynt Sorcery, the most famous arcane art of the Land of Wind. Aether had heard that it was considered the most beautiful of magics on the continent, but he never put much stock into it until now. Unlike all other sorceries, Gwynt Sorcery relies heavily on the application of miracles through belief - by calling upon servants of Lord Barbatos for a certain price.
Aether watched as zephyrs and aurai frolicked in the air, their immaterial forms like flowing ribbons, twisting and twirling as the blew gales from their undefined maws - sending the snow in their path flying away in miniature snowstorms, the sunlight reflecting off crystalline snowflakes to refract into an array of vibrant hues.
Tearing his gaze away from the magics abound, Aether scanned the marching column he was in the centre of.
Ahead of him were some five-hundred mounted knights, Jean Gunnhildr's personal retinue, the best the Knights of Favonius had to offer. They were heavily armoured, men and women clad in full prayer-carved plate - glowing runes forged into the very silver steel. Such was the same for their mighty steeds, dressed in full metal barding - silver shields, wicked lances and visored bascinets hanging from the saddle.
Interspaced throughout were assigned flag bearers, holding aloft bannered lances - some bearing the six-winged sigil of the Favonian Order, others the golden Lion of the South, and a few bore the bleu-celeste windwheel asters of the Gunnhildr. Ahead of them even yet, were the mages and their spirits.
Following them was the prison cart Aether was chained too, pulled by two horses. Three members of the Church - bishops if he ascertained correctly - sat in the cart as well, watching over him. A platoon of dismounted knights surrounded the cart. Behind them were the rest of the dismounted knights, escorting a gargantuan tarp-covered wagon housing the wing of Stormterror.
The wagon was essentially twelve carts fastened together and reinforced, drawn by sixteen monstrous draft horses. It took the area of an entire house, and was wide enough to block the entire road as it travelled.
Suddenly, shouts from the head of the column caught his attention.
A group of a dozen scouts had returned to the column, and Aether could spy Amber's distinct red riding outfit at their head. The outriders sat upon unarmoured coursers - the fastest the Land of Wind had to offer - with rune-carved horseshoes which allowed them to gallop like the wind, skipping atop snow cover as if it were solid ground.
The riders leapt down onto the ground from atop the snow, and Aether could see the recurve bows strapped to their backs. They were the only horsemen in the Land of Wind that were equipped with bows, capable of shooting from horseback - skilled enough to command their steeds with stirrups alone.
Despite being looked down upon by other knight companies, the outriders were some of the most formidable foes the realm had to offer, personally trained by Amber. It is said there was none in the Seven Nations that could match their speed and stamina, and that they rode with the legions of Barbatos at their backs.
Aether perhaps would've once thought it was all gaff, but now that he could see literal wind spirits commanded by mages, perhaps the saying had some inkling of truth to it.
The column halted for a while as the scouts reported to the Grandmaster, and then started moving forwards again as the scouts leapt back up onto the snow cover and raced off.
Hours later, the Sun was dipping below the horizon - painting the wintry sky in warm hues. Unfortunately, it was anything but warm where they were. The boreal winds swept down from the north, whipping frost and ice in the air, eating into the flesh. Everyone was unconsciously huddling together in a futile attempt to stave off the chill.
Aether was a veritable bonfire - the warmth of a dozen stars radiated from his skin, glowing red-gold. Two hearts beat together in unison, one pumping sanguine blood, the other brilliant starlight. Veins of molten gold were visible even through his skin, and melted ice and snow surrounded where he sat, wetting the wood around him.
The bishops in the cart stared at him with wide eyes, unwittingly inching closer, yet unsure of whether it'd be right to partake in his heat.
Perhaps it would not be so cold if they were moving, but the column was currently still in its tracks - right before the town of Springvale. In the distance, plumes of smoke rose into the Sky - orange lights gleaming from buildings, taunting them with their pleasant warmth.
Aether leaned over the cart and asked a nearby guard why they had stopped moving.
"The Grandmaster is negotiating to stay at Springvale for a night, most likely."
"Why would she need to negotiate?"
"They don't like us," the knight explained, "Fifteen-hundred years ago, the place was just a small hunting village. But then hundreds began to flee here from Mondstadt due to the old aristocracy, and Springvale turned into a growing city."
"Because of that, Mondstadt went to war with Springvale several times," another knight joined in, "They lost twice, but succeeded once - and razed the city to the ground. The Springvites fled into Wolvendom, where some managed to find refuge with the Wolf of the North, but most died."
"I see, and after the aristocracy fell they returned?"
"Something like that. As you can see, they still haven't fully recovered, and Springvale is considered a town rather than a city as they once were."
"But it was the Knights who overthrew the aristocracy. Shouldn't they be welcoming you?"
The knights stared at the town in the distance for a while, before one of them finally spoke.
"Old grudges linger still, and when they see the banners of Mondstadt flying - they're reminded of what they had lost."
Aether huffed and sat back down, chains clinking. Another gust of wind blew through the column, making them shiver violently. The mages were exhausted from clearing the path all the way to Springvale, working tirelessly for days - and they no longer had the strength to craft any heating magic.
Thus they had no choice but to continue to wait, for hours. Until finally, the horn was blown, and the expedition started marching forwards again.
By the time the prison cart rolled into the town, the knights ahead of him were already raising a campsite. As he climbed off the cart, Aether took the opportunity to look around the town.
Springvale was aptly named, raised in a valley between two hills arranged in a horseshoe shape. At the bend of the horseshoe was a small vale between the hills, leading to a waterfall and lake - formed from melting glaciers of the grand mountain of Dragonspine. In front of the village were vast farmlands, irrigated by a small spring which is said to house a lochfolk.
East of the town was an enormous forested area, geographically rugged and impenetrable to any conventional army. Ruled by the Wolf of the North, the region was known as Wolvendom - a wild, feral place, uninhabited by any humans. Or more accurately, any civilised humans, if the locals of Springvale were to be believed.
They mentioned savage barbarians who lived in the woods, remnants of the humans who seeked refuge with the Wolf of the North so very long ago.
In any case, these rumours did not stop the locals from using the outskirts of Wolvendom as their hunting grounds - as they have been for millennia.
That night, the Sky was adorned with countless pinpricks of light. By favour of the Anemo Archon, the winds had died down - and despite the slight chill, the temperature was manageable.
Aether shifted in his place, making himself as comfortable as he could. He was chained to a stake in the middle of the camp, just by the fire. The knights seemed to believe he was immune to the cold and deigned not to raise a tent for him.
He sighed, breathing mist.
A few more hours until he could see the Sun again.
18th of the 12th Cycle
Aether could smell Dawnton before he could see it.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, relishing the sweet fragrance of wines and fruits blown north by southerly winds. Dawnton was built directly on the Stone Road, the primary trade route between the Republic of Liyue and the rest of the Windic Union. This meant that Dawnton was a massive trade centre, only second to Dornman Port in the Land of Wind.
The city was also located in a strategic spot, in the centre of a flat basin. To the north was the Windwail Highlands, to the south was Dragonspine. This meant the only landway into the Land of Wind were two mountain passes - the northern pass was Messer Vale, and the southern was Remembrance Valley, which they had travelled through. And both passes start at Dawnton.
Built on a rise, Dawnton was surrounded by a pair of crenellated curtain walls, the outer wall being around 13 cubits high while the inner was 20 cubits. Acres of vineyards and orchards surrounded the walls, feeding the city's booming alcohol industry and people.
Castle Dawnlight towered over the city, raised by the first Ragnvindr - and said to be named after a woman he once knew. Aether could also spy the Dawn Winery, the two-story stone mansion built inside the confines of the walls - with its own vineyards surrounding it. Banners flew from high stone walls, bearing the falcon of Ragnvindr - facing the viewer, as if ready to burst out of the tapestry and soar into the Sky.
Unlike Springvale, the three gates of Dawnton were wide open - admittedly to administer the constant flow of trade caravans arriving in and departing the city. Nevertheless, they received a much more pleasant welcome nonetheless - with the small army allowed to stay within Castle Dawnlight and many barrels of liquor gifted to them.
In no small part to the fact that Lord Ragnvindr had accompanied them, Aether was certain.
Despite the authorities' warm demeanour, the smallfolk were less welcoming to say the least. Crowds gathered on the sides of the cobbled streets to watch the column march to the centre of the city - and while they refrained from shouting or revealing their displeasure at all, Aether could still see their hardened eyes, especially cold when they spotted the Church bishops with them.
As they marched uphill, Aether could get a good view of Castle Dawnlight. The fortress was built of pale red stone - consisting of a central drum keep with a single tower that pierced the skies, and two squat rectangular keeps that branched out to either sides of the central keep. Altogether, from a distance Castle Dawnlight looked to be a great bird erupting skywards from the earth.
Since Stormterror's wing was far too large to fit through the entrance, the knights had decided to split off a contingent to camp just outside the gate in order to guard the cargo. Meanwhile, Aether was escorted to a somewhat barren room that he was to stay in.
Much more preferable to the dungeons, he could admit.
His guards unmanacled his arms and let him go, leaving the chamber and locking the hardwood door behind them. Aether spun around, scanning the room - and saw that the only window was barred. Other than that, there was a candle-lit desk, and a bed.
Outside, the stars shone down on him.
Indeed, he would have to thank Lord Ragnvindr for his graciousness once this ordeal was over.
Rewritten on 8/6/2022