Adelissa brushed away the lingering cobwebs of her dream, rose from her bed, and smoothly made the mattress with practiced ease.

The new residence of House Fornweir was merely a modest little manor house situated at the very edge of the snowbound northern frontiers. Her father had been exiled to these harsh lands fifteen years ago - it was in that very year of his banishment that she came into the world. Adelissa Fornweir, eldest daughter of Adrian Fornweir.

The girl washed her face with icy water, dried off with a clean towel, and quickly changed into simple yet warm attire. Finishing her morning preparations, she walked over to the small crib and gently woke her younger sister - five-year-old Mira. Washing and dressing the little girl, Adelissa held her firmly by the hand as they descended the wooden staircase.

The dining room smelled deliciously of fresh bread and fried bacon fat. Leading Mira into the kitchen, Adelissa was greeted by a cozy scene: her mother was busying herself by the lit hearth, while nine-year-old Bernard diligently helped her, stirring thick porridge in a cast-iron pot.

“Good morning!” Adelissa greeted them cheerily, lifting her little sister onto a chair at the large dining table.

At that moment, the front door in the hallway swung open with a heavy thud, letting plumes of frosty vapor swirl into the house. Adrian appeared on the threshold. He shook dense snow from his fur-lined cloak, his cheeks and nose flushed red from the biting cold.

“Good morning, everyone,” their father sighed heavily, removing his frost-soaked mittens. “The rear stonework by the shed didn't hold out after all... Yesterday’s blizzard finally finished the wall, and a section of the masonry collapsed. So there's going to be a proper glacier running through that wing until the snowfall lets up enough for us to make repairs.”

“I’ll help you clear the rubble, Father!” Bernard chimed in immediately, proudly straightening his back.

Their mother offered a soft shake of her head, handing her husband a mug of hot tea to warm his hands.

“Breakfast first. We can decide what to do at the table.”

The family settled together around the simple wooden table. Serving bowls of steaming porridge to the younger children, Adelissa took her usual seat.

“Bon appétit!” they said in unison.

Among Adrian’s three children, Adelissa stood out strikingly in her appearance. Her father often remarked with a quiet, fleeting sadness that she was the spitting image of her late grandmother and aunt - relatives the young girl had never had the chance to meet. Bernard was an exact copy of Adrian himself, possessing the same dark hair paired with warm brown eyes, while little Mira had inherited her mother’s softer features.

Having cleared the dishes after breakfast, Adelissa draped a warm cloak over her shoulders. Though Adrian Fornweir was considered a disgraced aristocrat, his intellect and sense of honor had earned him an administrative position at the local border outpost. The quiet village of Grünwald, where their family now resided, was situated just a short distance from the fortified garrison, and today Adelissa planned to head there alongside her father.

Stepping outside, Adelissa tried her best to keep pace with her father, carefully placing her boots into his deep footprints so as not to sink into the fresh, powdery drifts. Adrian walked slightly ahead, shielding his daughter from the biting gusts of the northern wind with his back. In the distance, through the white haze, the silhouettes of villagers could be seen hurriedly shoveling snow in front of their homes to clear the night’s blockades.

Ascending the porch of the outpost’s administrative building, Adrian paused to thoughtfully brush the clinging snow from his daughter’s hood and snow-white hair.

“Are you certain you truly want to work?” he asked with slight concern, searching her face, which was flushed red from the fierce frost.

Adelissa gave a pleased nod, flashing a resolute, defiant smile. Seeing that familiar, stubborn spark in her blue eyes, Adrian merely let out a warm chuckle and opened the heavy door for her.

“The work isn’t overly complicated, but it demands absolute attentiveness,” the elderly lady managing the outpost's records began dryly, laying out stacks of paper before Adelissa. “Here are the receipts and expense reports from last month. Over here are the decrees, mandates, and other administrative orders. And over there are the ledger books. To start, you will need to cross-check the entries in the old ledger against the recent inventory list and transcribe everything into the new ledger without a single error.”

She measured the young girl skeptically through her pince-nez, but Adelissa simply gave a grateful nod and accepted the assignment with confidence. Pulling the inkwell and quill closer, she immersed herself in her tasks.

Adrian stood nearby for a short while longer, watching his daughter's first steps with unhidden concern.

“At this rate, you'll finally solve our eternal shortage of literate folk with the help of your children!” the commander of the outpost boomed with a hearty laugh, clapping Adrian firmly on the shoulder from behind. “Not that I have a single objection, mind you!”

Adrian offered a polite smile, his eyes following his daughter, who was already deep in concentration over her work.

“I heard there was a brawl in the village last night. I hope no one was seriously hurt?” Adrian inquired, walking down the corridor alongside the commander.

Master Vogel rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy sigh.

“Everyone’s intact. Though a fair few tables and benches in the tavern were smashed to splinters. The hired bodyguard of some passing merchant picked a fight with the tavern keeper for reasons unknown. He was so drunk he could barely stand, yet even in that state, he effortlessly thrashed our local miners!” Vogel couldn’t suppress a short smirk. “Our outpost guards could barely wrangle him down, and even then, only because the fellow collapsed on his own at the end. We locked him in the cells to sleep it off. They cracked two heavy bottles over his head in the fight, but it didn't bother him a bit - he was snoring up a storm in his cell until morning.”

Adrian let out a quiet chuckle at the commander’s tale.

“Once he wakes up, we’ll have to conduct an interrogation,” Vogel grumbled wearisomely, shaking his head. “We haven't even decided how to punish the drunkard for the damage, but the merchant already brought bail money first thing this morning, desperate to have his bodyguard released.”

Adrian paused in thought, his brow furrowing.

“Merchants rarely go to such trouble for ordinary hired hands,” he noted, keeping pace with Vogel.

“True enough,” the outpost commander agreed, scratching his head. “What was his name again?.. The guards mentioned he’s supposedly a veteran of the Royal Knights’ Order. Though they say he served there for only a couple of months before deserting or turning mercenary.”

Adrian stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the corridor. Everything inside him recoiled at a sudden, dark foreboding, his blood running cold for a fraction of a second.

“Such a title is a extreme rarity in these parts. And I have never heard of a knight leaving the order after so short a tenure... Unless...” he said softly, his voice weighted with gravity.

“Grant!” the commander exclaimed triumphantly, snapping his fingers as he recalled the key word from the report. “Eisen... or whatever his name was...”

“Isaac,” Adrian corrected him dryly.