Knights of The Crimson Veil

The tavern door creaked open with a tired groan, and cold air slipped in like a quiet omen.

Heads turned. Conversation paused. Even the hearth crackled louder than it should've, like it was trying to fill the silence.

A man stepped inside tall, wrapped in black leather stained by travel and time, with a thick belt of midnight fur clinging to his waist, trailing behind him like old shadows. His hood hung low, and from underneath it, two dull red eyes burned quietly watchful and ancient, like coals that refused to die out.

His boots thudded against the wooden floor slow and steady, with a rhythm that felt too heavy for a man. Like war drums, softened only by snow. With each step, the warmth bled out of the room. Whispers died. Laughter fell flat in people's throats.

Then he sat.

And just like that, the tavern exhaled again. The bard picked up his tune, though his fingers stumbled a little. Someone coughed, someone else laughed too loud. The barkeep went back to scrubbing a mug he hadn't realized he'd been holding too tight.

At the table, Elias leaned back with a quiet sigh and pulled his hood down.

The firelight brushed against his skin. Pale as moonlight, carved and sharp too perfect, A face that hadn't aged in years, maybe decades. But it was the eyes that held attention. Still faintly glowing red. Like fire.

The barkeep approached after a moment, cautious but curious. "What'll it be, stranger?"

Elias glanced at the shelves stacked with bottles. His voice came low and smooth.

"Something tasty. And something strong. Strong enough for a corpse."

The barkeep blinked once unsure if it was a joke or a warning but nodded and moved to pour something thick and dark into a worn wooden cup. A few herbs floated on the surface. Whatever it was, it smelled bitter, and strong enough to strip paint.

Elias raised it to his lips and drank.

The drink went down smoothly as the bitter taste of alcohol lingered in his mouth.

He lowered the cup slowly, staring into it. Watching his own reflection ripple. It shifted just for a heartbeat into something twisted and unfamiliar. Something old.

At the next table, a group of soldiers clinked their mugs and laughed, their cheeks red with drink and cold.

"You hear about the North?" one of them asked, voice loud and slurred. "They're paying triple now just to hold the line."

"Triple?" another snorted. "You couldn't pay me enough to freeze my balls off up there. Monsters every damn week, they say. Some say every night."

"Still…" the first one mumbled, quieter now. "The Duke's desperate. And desperate men pay well."

Elias taking a another sip of the drink before him overhears there conversation. but He didn't turn or react. But the words soaked into him like spilled ink sinking into old paper

He stared deeper into the drink, but it wasn't the cup he saw anymore. It was snow. And fire. The flash of steel, the sound of howling things with too many limbs and not enough fear.

"…How long's it been," he muttered to himself, voice almost drowned by the tavern noise, "since I stood under northern stars…"

His fingers tightened around the cup.

"I wonder if any of them are still alive."

He didn't finish the drink.

Instead, he slid a few heavy coins across the table more than enough and stood. No one tried to stop him. No one even looked up. But they all felt it when he passed by. Like the air thinned just for a moment, and everyone had to breathe a little deeper afterward.

The door clicked shut behind him, soft but final.

---

The fog outside wrapped around the streets like it had weight, clinging to the cobblestones and curling under every flickering lantern. Elias moved through it without sound, He passed by shuttered windows and frozen barrels, and turned into a narrow alley without looking back.

Disappearing as if the night has swallowed him whole.

---

Outside The western kingdom The trees were taller out here, twisted with age and heavy with frost. The ground crunched under his boots, and the cold bit harder. There were no lights. No voices. Just the wind, whispering low through the forest like it was warning him away.

Then came the howl.

It split the dark like a blade long, low, and aching. Not quite wolf, but not anything else either. It sent birds scattering from the trees and made the night itself pause.

Elias stepped through the underbrush, cloak trailing behind him like smoke caught in the wind. His eyes adjusted to the dark with ease.

And there it stood.

The direwolf.

Larger now its back nearly as high as his chest, with fur blacker than shadow and eyes that burned just like his. Red, and watchful. Its fangs gleamed beneath the moonlight, and its breath steamed out in thick clouds.

But It didn't growl at Elias Just stared.

Elias moved a little closer. Walking towards the beast.

The wolf took a step, then another, circling around him like it was making sure. Then it stopped at his side. And sat down.

Elias looked at it for a long moment and let out a slow, tired breath. "You got big," he said, voice rough with cold and memory. "Didn't think you'd stick around."

The wolf gave a soft, rumbling noise from its throat not a growl, not a purr. Just something familiar.

"Guess we're both bad at moving on," Elias muttered.

He looked up at the moon, then turned his gaze north where the wind howled differently.

"…Let's head north, buddy," he said, just loud enough for the wind to hear.

He turned, and the direwolf padded after him without hesitation, its massive form cutting through the fog and the dark.

And together, they vanished into the trees