Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

Morning arrived quietly over Castle Valehart with a gentle effulgence.

The first rays of dawn crested the distant horizon, spilling across the sprawling capital of Valor in waves of pale gold. The darkness that had blanketed the kingdom throughout the night gradually retreated beneath the gentle embrace of the rising sun, while wisps of morning mist drifted lazily through the castle gardens like ethereal ribbons.

A cold breeze wandered across the estate, rustling the countless banners bearing the valiant knight crest of House Valehart.

Dew clung delicately to every blade of emerald grass, shimmering beneath the newborn sunlight like thousands of scattered pearls. Crystal fountains continued their endless song as birds hidden amongst flowering trees filled the morning air with cheerful melodies.

The Kingdom of Valoria was already awake, and so too was Castle Valehart.

Knights clad in polished armour marched through the courtyards in disciplined formations, changing shifts atop the towering walls while issuing crisp reports to their commanding officers.

Stable hands guided magnificent steeds toward the training grounds, where the first clashes of sparring steel had already begun echoing through the morning air.

Elsewhere, manservants hurried through marble corridors carrying documents, polished armour and ceremonial regalia, while maidservants moved with graceful efficiency, preparing the estate for another day of noble affairs.

Everything proceeded with order, efficiency and precision. It was as though the entire estate functioned like an intricately crafted mechanism, every individual serving as a perfectly placed cog within its immense structure.

Inside one of the guest chambers, soft morning light filtered through the towering crystal windows before quietly spilling across the polished marble floor.

The room itself was an epitome of understated luxury. Exquisitely carved whitewood furnishings adorned every corner, while azure draperies embroidered with golden thread framed the tall windows.

A magnificent four-poster bed draped in fine silk occupied the centre of the chamber, accompanied by an elegant writing desk, a richly upholstered sofa and an ornate wardrobe fashioned from ancient oak. Every ornament reflected centuries of noble refinement.

Upon the bed, Maverick stirred slowly before opening his golden eyes.

For several moments, he simply lay there, staring silently at the intricately carved canopy overhead.

Then, with a languid groan, he pushed himself upright. The luxurious mattress compressed gently beneath his weight before slowly rebounding as he rubbed his face with one hand.

Honestly, he wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in unfamiliar places.

Though the chamber was undoubtedly comfortable, it had done little to alleviate the disquietude lingering within him. In fact, sleep had eluded him until well past midnight, leaving his body feeling as though every muscle had been weighed down by invisible chains.

Stretching both arms above his head, a succession of loud pops echoed from his joints before he slowly rolled his shoulders to ease the lingering stiffness. Afterwards, he cast a contemplative glance toward the window and released a quiet sigh before rising to his feet.

Just as he did, a gentle series of knocks sounded from beyond the chamber door.

KNOCK! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!!

Maverick turned toward the entrance, his brows knitting together slightly.

"Come in."

The heavy wooden door swung open with measured grace, revealing a young maidservant standing respectfully beyond the threshold.

She appeared to be in her early twenties, though Maverick scarcely cared enough to guess her exact age.

She wore the official uniform of House Valehart’s maidservants; a beautifully tailored gown of deep azure accented with intricate golden embroidery that traced elegant floral motifs along the sleeves, bodice and hem.

A pristine golden apron was fastened neatly around her waist, while delicate white gloves covered her hands. Her chestnut-brown hair was gathered into a flawless bun secured by an ornate golden clasp bearing House Valehart’s lion crest, and her calm hazel eyes remained respectfully lowered.

Offering a graceful curtsy, she spoke in a gentle, well-practised voice.

"My apologies for disturbing your rest, Young Lord Maverick. I have been instructed by Lord Valdric to escort you to the dining hall for breakfast."

Maverick’s brows furrowed even deeper.

He instinctively turned toward the window, only to discover that the morning sun had barely ascended above the horizon.

Turning back to the maidservant, he asked with undisguised surprise. "Breakfast? So early?"

The maid allowed herself the faintest smile.

"Young Lord, the Patriarch and Matriarch customarily dine shortly after sunrise. The entire household follows a rather... Disciplined schedule."

"I see..." Maverick replies somewhat astonished.

Actually, it wasn’t breakfast itself that surprised him. Rather, it was how astonishingly early the meal was served.

Back in the Frozen North, every morning began with a steaming cup of cacao, brewed thick and hot enough to chase the biting cold from one’s bones.

Only after warming themselves would the knights assemble for hours of rigorous training before finally gathering together for breakfast.

Simply put, breakfast in the Frozen North was regarded as a well-earned reprieve following the morning’s exertions.

But then again, why was he even comparing the Frozen North with Valor?

The two places couldn’t have been more different. So it was only natural that their customs would be diametrically opposed.

After a brief pause, Maverick nodded.

"Very well. Tell Lord Valdric that I’ll join everyone shortly."

He expected the maid to excuse herself and relay the message.

Instead, she bowed apologetically.

"I’m terribly sorry, Young Lord. The Patriarch specifically instructed me to escort you personally. I’m afraid I cannot depart without you."

Maverick frowned. Then after several silent moments, he asked. "What about my father? Is he already there?"

"Yes, Young Lord. In fact, you are the only person everyone is waiting for." The maidservant answered.

"Well... I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting."

Then without another word, Maverick turned and began walking toward the lavatory.

Seeing this, the maid suddenly spoke. "Young Lord... Would you require my assistance with your bath?"

Maverick nearly stumbled mid-step. Fortunately, he caught himself before turning back to stare at her.

"...What did you just say?"

The maid blinked in confusion.

"I asked whether you would like me to assist you with your bath. Is there a problem, Young Lord?"

The question was delivered with such effortless sincerity that, for a fleeting instant, Maverick wondered if she was making some elaborate joke.

It was only several seconds later that realization dawned upon him.

Right! Among the nobility, it was perfectly commonplace for personal attendants to prepare baths, assist with dressing and oversee countless other daily ministrations.

At that moment, Maverick couldn’t help but conclude that the nobles of Valor truly were people spoiled by the boundless luxuries afforded by privilege.

Still, despite the maid’s genuine offer, he shook his head. "I’m sorry, but I can manage my bath myself."

He smiled politely before continuing. "You don’t need to trouble yourself. Just wait outside. I’ll be ready shortly."

Truthfully, Maverick simply wasn’t accustomed to such treatment.

Life in the Frozen North allowed no room for indulgence. Every pair of hands was needed, every waking hour devoted to training, patrols or preparing for the next Beast Tide.

Yet here, people actually had enough leisure to assign attendants solely to help them bathe.

What a ludicrously extravagant absurdity.

The maid tilted her head slightly and asked. "Are you certain, Young Lord?"

Maverick smiled once more. "I’m certain. Please wait outside."

Without another word, the maid lowered herself into another graceful curtsy and replied. "As you command, Young Lord."

With that, she quietly withdrew from the chamber, gently closing the heavy door behind her...