Father, father, where are you going?

Hear, father, hear to the voice of your little boy

The path was dark, and the freezing wind blew

Please, father, or else I shall be lost, and so my soul flew

T'was eaten by the cawing crows, and so they flew

Eight years ago, the Lord Commander couldn't forget. The mountain tribes pulled off the impossible; rallying under one purpose, one army of hundreds of thousands of men.

This memory is a particular memory about one damaging other.

The North is vast, no doubt. Barren nonetheless for the blind, precious for one who knows where to look. One of the most common things here was ice in the winter. Scholars were eager to get their hands on the animals and plants in the fleeting two moons of summer. But Northwind and the outlooks are the northern-most structure to found in this land. This place is not so welcoming for strangers.

It was easy to tell why mountain tribes wanted to take the southern lands. There are trees with fruits. There are farmable lands and places where non-freezing water could flow.

Twenty years ago, Northwind. Every northern knight told that they served no purpose being there. At the time, every house in the south didn't pay much attention to their northern counterparts. At the time, Novus were considered as backwater territory. Not to mention, the Rebellion of Nine occurred, just right when His Majesty, King Albert the First was bedridden.

"Long have he reigned!" the Old Commander hailed him for the last time, as he could die just right after the Rebellion of Nine. They never thought that the king would live on until this day.

A great war stirred up the realm. Lots of people died, either due to the draught, the famine, or the sword. The royal army marched south alongside the Northern soldiers. It seems that the northern lords were unbidden by bribes or plots, and accordingly cut their ties to the usurpers. Great houses of the North and their vassal houses spat on their rebellious southern counterparts. Perhaps it was not their loyalty to the bedridden king which made them stood by their oath. The Old Lord Commander always speculates that it was the accumulated hatred and the warm welcoming of the loyalist houses which made them raise the banners, while their castles served as strongholds for the royal family, especially the crown prince, Albert the Second, and his future-to-be-queen, Lady Ashyl of Fleure.

This brought fame to Els, Novus, and other several regions. Eventually, those regions also gained advantages for their political affairs. The decisive battle at the Distant Plains seals the fate of a knight, who served and fought as representative of his household and answering his lord call's; himself.

Fighting together over honour and a right cause pretty much can make someone bumps into another. The already distinguished knights, time over time has proven himself on the battlefield. At such time, honour and titles come easy. A war hero. A worthy man, renowned by many lords. A valiant knight. A brilliant commander. Protector of the smallfolk. There were even times when the crown prince wanted to honour him as a general.

Of course, he refused it as he has to boot-lick the nobles. There will be resentment when a commoner suddenly rose high in the ranks. Still, right after the rebellion was put down, the already old king rewarded him with fertile lands, few keeps, titles, and everything else. A knight cannot hope better but Jack Amberville felt that he isn't suited to rule; he left everything to his vassals instead and resumed his duty. He found himself here at his very own hearth, a grandfather to three.

It was during those times that he nurtured the nine year's old crown prince among other knights and then Lady Emilia of Els, helping both to inherit their right to rule.

And it happens. Earl Hugh of Novus was murdered, poisoned by his own brother. The ungrateful younger brother took hostages, the heirs from three vassal houses, aided by five other treacherous houses.

Of course, there's sudden confusion about the future of the house and the region of Novus. The other vassal houses had no choice to accept that their lord has gone. Lord Hugh was a good lord, trusted and loved. More than that, he was a brother in arms, a true leader on the battlefield.

The bastard brother thought that his brother was too good to be a lord; too honourable for this world, he cackled. And not like his lordly brother, his deeds were madness. Everyone who wouldn't side with him was either slaughtered or simply thrown in prison; without given food or water. Settlements were burned to spread fear. Heavy taxes levied effectively upon the brother's 'untimely' death.

Gods help us all, the Old Jack thought to himself. A past which shaped the fate of the northern region.

However, the atrocities didn't stop there. The younger brother put up the corpse of Earl Hugh on a crucifix, while his wife could only watch, while the soldiers toyed her along with her two daughters before feeding them to the dogs.

Only the boy escaped.

The boy came, kneeling and crying. He begged to him, not to other lords of other vassal houses, a knight of small lands and keeps, to bring justice to his father's killer.

The boy stood in front of him.

"Ser Jack Amberville of Whitemoor, I called you to stand by your oath to protect Novus, and bring the treacherous enemy of your lord, justice. You're my father's loyal knight, and maybe the one true friend among them all. As my father's duty passed to me, I may name, and honour you, commander of my army, until that time comes again. Will you serve?"

Should the boy came to the wrong person, he will be captured even killed on the spot. Just like the old saying, en may not deny their fate.

“And what of mine?” the knight asked himself.

He could only kneel, and say the word, "I serve."

Something about this boy allured him, just like his father, the lord who fought side by side with his soldier. The boy cried as freezing tears dropped from his eyelids to his cheeks.

The boy nodded, unsheathed his short-sword then replying, "Then by my honour I name you commander of my army as you swore fealty".

The short-sword's tip touched the ground in front of him where he knelt, then raised. The flat side of the short-sword tapped his right-then left shoulder.

The knight Jack Amberville raised his head as he heard the sound of the sheathed sword.

By his surprise, the lordling asked, "Tell me, Commander, will I ever be akin to my father as a lord?"

"No, my lord", he replied. "No two lords are akin, only that the other one may be better than another. You may be a better lord than your father."

Both of their eyes met.

The boy was no longer the little lordling he knows. Like a little robin, the lordling was once, but now the old knight saw a falcon in front of his eyes.