Nightfall has started and Josserand prepared for yet another night inside the cold and moving carriage yet suddenly the cart stopped. His mother looked up from her daydream and ushered him out with a tired smile.

“We are finally here. Let’s hope all has been prepared for our coming.”

It seemed as much for the moment they set foot on the besnowed ground, several servants appeared from within a small wooden keep. Without a word they started unloading the carriage, illuminating each other with torches. The escort started to dismount and take care of their exhausted steeds. Josserand felt at a loss of what he should do now. His mother led him into the keep. Several parts seemed rotten yet other parts had obviously been restored recently. Inside the small hall preparations had started for a good and warm meal. A roaring fire was dancing inside the hearth, suggesting a warm welcome. Before long they ate a heartening meal alongside the three knights which had escorted them from their home. Few words were said as tiredness started taking its toll. One by one they left in order to head for bed. Josserand was alone with his mother who seemed content to fall asleep in a chair in front of the hearth.

“Mother, why are we here?”

No answer. Josserand decided to press on in hope to receive at least something: “Where are we?”

“The hunting lodge of your grandfather. I was born here in Parravon and been here many times. Sadly since the untimely death of my father it was neglected and nature reclaimed what’s hers... Aren’t you tired?”

“Not so much as I would ponder on these questions instead. When do we return?”

“It will take some time, my dear son. I’m not sure we’ll ever return.”

This answer shocked Josserand which his mother seemed to sense. She opened her eyes and with a brave smile she quickly added: “Don’t worry, he’ll visit us plenty when it’s safe. Now to bed.”

Safe? Josserand wondered until late during the night. What menaced the keep?  Would this be their home for eternity? A lot of questions but no answers until dark sleep overwhelmed his tired mind and body.

As Josserand soon discovered over the weeks there weren’t many who lived in this region. Safe for the ruin of an ancient grail temple, there wasn’t a building for miles. Once or twice a week the servants would head out to a nearby village to stock up on supplies. Weekly his mother would take him to pray in the ruined temple for forgiveness. Josserand didn’t understand why his mother asked for the Lady to look kindly on them in spite of their selfish decision every time. One of the knights, Sir Merith, kept a rigorous training on his body, even more heavy then at home. Months later Josserand became able to venture into the rugged lands and find his way back to the keep every time. The mountain life suited him: solitary and quiet, breathtaking views of the lands below and the fresh and cool air. On one of his walks he spotted a knight and his retinue riding up to the long winding road. As the banner caught wind he could clearly see his father’s coat of arms, reflected by the sun. He had never realised how he had missed his father till the moment tears streamed from his eyes and his father grabbed him with two arms on his horse. He also was pleased to see his son and heir. For a week he stayed and spent a lot of attention to the little one. But soon duty called him back to their homeland and the halls of the wooden keep seemed empty and silent once more. 

Years passed this way and Josserand had almost forgotten about his future fief and heritage.  Even his mother seemed to have adapted to be separated from her husband for months at an end. The frigid cold winters were endurable now that the body got used to them. Josserand developed a love for the rugged mountain range and its strong people. What appealed to him the most was the strong paradox as the summer revived the lively lands with bright and sharp colours while winters turned the mountains into a pale landscape of vast whiteness and barely any life at all.  

His fifteenth birthday came which announced his coming-of-age next year. Soon he was to be sent to on his errant, earning his renown and knighthood in battles or adventures. One midday, late in winter, his mother called him to her bedroom. She had been ill for a couple of weeks now: a cold that did not seem to pass as easily as it should be. It pained Josserand to see his mother as pale and weak as she was now but the obedient young man he was, he entered her chambers. The shutters had been drawn shut so his mother could rest. Underneath many layers of blankets and fur, he found his mother asleep. Granting her this strengthening sleep, he silently took a wooden chair and sat by her side. Her hand lay next to the bed as if discarded from the blankets. Clasping his old mother’s hand to put it to rest in the warm shelter of the blankets, Josserand had an idea: would he be able to help his mother? Remembering his promise to his parents and himself, he quickly tossed the thought back in the corner of his mind. Her hand though felt so cold and lifeless. Surely he had given life once, he could do it again. For an hour he struggled in his mind whether he should try to relief the pain his mother endured. Suddenly he sensed something in his subconscious: from the chest of his mother there came waves of cold and negative influence. The cold and weakening influence almost seem to have conquered her entire chest and seemed to be on the march to her heart. Josserand threw all restraint away and forced some of his warmth into her body through their clasped hands. The warm energies began to envelop the cold sickness, forcing it into one spot. Encircling it had been easy but it became increasingly harder to battle the corrupting influence: ever more energy he poured into the body of his mother and slowly the cold had to yield. Sweat poured from his brows as he finally conquered the last remaining sickness and purged it from her body. Panting heavily and exhausted beyond anything he had ever experienced before, he quickly fell into a deep sleep, his head resting on the bed.