As the snow fell around the horses, the knights stood proud around him. The picture of strength, armor scaling before the gates of Helvus for miles.

King Julian Xesperion. A pillar, having grown up around bloodied lands with a callous, heartless man as a father and a figure. His mother had been killed when he was a baby, his father believing she was a traitor to the crown. With no woman to teach him compassion and balance his father’s teachings, he knew no gentleness.

A man that strived on blood and conquering kingdoms. His eyes were set on Helvus, he wouldn’t rest until its snowy gates belonged to his knights. He planned to give it to his soldiers for compensation for his raids.

Helvus, an icy kingdom up north known for the impressive amount of coal and iron taken from deposits scattered along the land. It was a powerful kingdom, yet barely anything was known inside the gates. It was a fortress of solitude and sheer determination to survive in the chilled atmosphere.

Two knights stood at the top of the gate, their armor black with dark red crests. They had seen bloodshed, and knew what Julian had come for.

Deep horns were sounded, nothing like the trumpets of Xeckrion. Julian surveyed the gate, looking at the massive dark black iron gates and the copper in between the slits of the heavy rock. This wasn’t going to be an easy feat, he had decided, it was going to be difficult. He could do difficult.

A knight walked out to face him, the gates opening with an eerie groan of metal. The black amor clinked as the knight stood face to face, his eyes unknown from the sheer darkness of the helmet. The red crest didn’t move in the wind, staring proudly down.

”Who comes to the gates of Helvus,” the knight’s voice boomed out coldly. His sword hung low on his hip. The size of the blade was impressive, a heavy thick and very wide diameter, easily wielded by the strongest of knights. His own swords of his own knights weren’t as big, but could easily do enough damage if used properly.

Julian stood his ground, staring at the helmet unfazed. He knew no other way than the hard way, so this wouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Him and the opposing knight were the same height, his boots giving him a little on the knight. “I’ve come to talk to your leader,” he said, his voice leaving no room for confusion.

His knights stood tall, their armor glinting against the snow as the wind bit through their chainmail underneath.

This was going to determine the rest of their days for a long time.

The knight nodded and turned to another group of nights, shouting something in a similar nordic tongue.

This was it.