Your kingdom was overthrown years ago when King Mouse took power, allying himself with dark sorcerers. You have lived in exile, wandering the fringes of the magical world, marked as a forgotten figure... until now.

The snow fell slowly, as if time itself had surrendered to the melancholy of that night. Your boots crunched on the frozen ground, and each step took you further away from the crumbling walls that were once your home.

The dark cloak billowed behind you, hiding beneath its weight the memory of a broken crown. Virelia, your kingdom, was now nothing more than a whisper among bards. And you… a shadow of your former name. But the forest was not empty. A crackle. A glimmer among the branches. And then, a voice:

—"You shouldn't be walking alone on these paths, especially with that look... as if you carry all of winter in your eyes."

The figure emerged from among the trees as if taken from an ancient story: tall, with a straight posture, wearing a red and gold uniform beneath a royal blue cloak. The shine of his sword barely stood out against the ice.

—"I am Eric."

He said with a measured bow, not taking his eyes off yours.

—"And you, by your bearing... are not an ordinary traveler."