The moment the gates shut behind them, Baker felt as if he'd crossed into another world entirely.
The cold air remained sharp—but everything else changed.
Rows of sturdy homes stretched along the main road, built from thick timber and stone, their roofs steep to shed snow. Chimneys puffed curling streams of smoke into the pale northern sky. Frosty windows glowed with orange light from fireplaces within, painting the streets with warmth.
Baker's breath caught in his throat.
He had imagined a northern fortress town to feel tense, grim, maybe even harsh.
But instead—
It felt alive.
Joyous.
Loved.
People bustled through the streets with purpose. Fur-coated craftsmen hammered away at metal and wood. Children—dozens of them—were making tiny snow forts beside a stall selling hot berry cider. Two elderly dwarves argued over which winter vegetable grew best, gesturing wildly with mitten-covered hands.
Somehow… all of it felt familiar even though he had never been here.
His heart fluttered strangely.
Is this… where Mom grew up?
Clarisse leaned over and whispered with a teasing smile, "Overwhelmed?"
Baker nodded without hesitation. "It's so—different. Warm. I thought everything would be cold, strict, military-like."
Ventis laughed softly. "The North works hard, trains hard, and protects its own—but never forgets to live. This is what your grandparents taught us."
The carriage rolled further in, snow crunching under its wheels. Baker pressed his face closer to the window, unable to look away.
His senses buzzed.
He saw a baker pulling fresh loaves of frost-grain bread from a stone oven, steam rising into the frigid air.
He smelled roasting meats, hot spices, burning pinewood, and the faint sweetness of caramel berries.
He heard vendors shouting their prices, children squealing in play, and soldiers marching in perfect formation along patrol routes.
Everywhere, pride and strength radiated from the people.
Cel lifted his head and yipped once—low and curious—almost sharing Baker's stunned amazement.
Even he was overwhelmed.
Baker's chest tightened unexpectedly.
I never knew the North was like this…
I never knew my family came from a place so full of life…
Then the crowd noticed them.
Or rather—they noticed his mother.
Whispers, warm and surprised, rippled outward.
"That's Lady Ventis, isn't it?"
"She's finally returned!"
"And her sister—the Healer Cross!"
"Wait, is that the boy? The grandson?"
Baker swallowed, suddenly aware of dozens of curious gazes landing on him from all directions. Wide eyes—some filled with respect, some with fascination.
Embarrassment prickled his neck.
Cel leaned into him protectively.
Ventis saw his discomfort and gently rested a hand on his shoulder.
"It's alright, Baker. They're kind people. They're just excited."
Clarisse added with a grin, "They're nosy, too. Get used to it."
He couldn't help but laugh under his breath.
As they continued through the town, Baker's emotions spiraled in a whirlwind:
Awe at the scale
Warmth at the lively atmosphere
Nervousness at the attention
Pride knowing his family helped build all this
Sadness that he had never been here until now
Excitement to explore every corner
Hope that he might belong here too
And beneath all of it—
A deep, profound connection blooming in his heart.
The carriage finally reached the central district, where stone roads replaced packed snow. Here stood larger buildings—workshops, guild halls, a market square, and the towering northern church with symbols of the gods etched across its frost-covered roof.
Baker's jaw dropped yet again.
Then he saw it.
At the end of a wide, rune-lit avenue stood a sprawling estate of ancient stone and silverwood beams. Tall evergreen trees lined the walkway like emerald guardians. Lanterns hung from carved posts, glowing with gentle blue fire that resisted the cold.
A crest of the Cross family rested above the main doors:
A silver snowflake crossed with a spear, wrapped in a ring of frost leaves.
Baker's heart thumped.
Grandmother and Grandfather are in there…
His palms grew sweaty despite the cold.
Ventis gently squeezed his hand.
"Don't worry," she said softly, almost reading his thoughts. "They are stern… but loving. They'll adore you."
Clarisse leaned over and whispered teasingly, "Try not to faint."
Baker swallowed.
Cel yipped encouragement.
The carriage slowed to a stop before the estate stairs.
Baker felt every emotion at once—
fear, anticipation, curiosity, pride, nervousness, excitement—
all tangled together in a knot inside his chest.
He stepped down from the carriage…
…and took his first breath of cold northern air as a grandson returning home for the very first time.