Harvest wasn’t always the safe and relatively peaceful kingdom it is today. When humanity arrived on the continent we call home, it was a wild place. Vicious manabeasts who had called the land home for years did not take kindly to the sudden intrusion nor could they be reasoned with.

Not to mention the goblinoid hordes at the settlers’ back and, though no texts make reference of it, whatever civilization they found here. If we’ve built an entire kingdom on this land, it stands to reason that another race could have done the same. Maybe humanity was truly the first sentient race to find this land but if we weren’t…those weren’t peaceful times.

Now, after the manabeasts have been pacified, the treacherous woods thinned to build cities, and the fields filled with crops, it’s easy to forget our bloody origins. Especially while in the colorful capital of Summer Spire or the bustling city of Quest. The same doesn’t apply to Fort Victory.

The fort, a massive, unattractive construction of gray stone against a gloomy sky is a frank reminder that we fought for every piece of land we claim as ours. No, that we continue to fight for it, though the threats may not be obvious.

There’s Aggro, the elemental who claimed the city of Fortitude to the east. Graywatch’s endless battle against the sea to the west. The south seems peaceful but saints help us all should the elves decide to cross the Enchanted Forest, either for conquest or a bit of fun.

To the north, past the dark mountains that loom in the distance, lies, according to the fanatic knights of Victory, the greatest threat of all. The Lords of Winter, supposedly intelligent manabeasts and their monster armies.

Creatures strong enough to live in the land of hostile cold year-round. Year after year, for centuries, Victory has warred against them, yet there are always more to fight. Thousands and thousands of powerful monsters led by an intelligent commander. It’s not hard to see why they are fearful of the north.

I have seen many things since the day Crowley Cain grabbed me from the King’s Road and I met the elemental that changed my life. My standards, in many regards, have been drastically altered. It takes much more to awe me these days but my first glimpse of the Victory manages it. “It’s bigger than I expected,” I mumble as I look out of the window.

“It’s not that big,” Alana mutters. She is far from eager to be returning home. The opposite. Since the fort came into sight, she’s been pensive, her frown deepening with each passing moment. “The fort itself. It blocks the widest path through the mountains. Since it’s elevated, it looks bigger than it really is.”

“Mm. I can also see…a village?”

“It’s been centuries since Victory was built. The campaigns…well, they aren’t as intense as they once were. The knights used to swear vows that they would come back victorious or not at all. Whole armies disappeared at a time. Now, their dedication isn’t quite as…suicidal. The knights retreat. More survivors mean the population of Victory became too big to house in the fort.”

“Hence the sprawl.” The smattering of buildings seems rather disjointed. And the styles are too varied. I can’t make out much, even with my eyes, but I can tell that the buildings are divided into groups. Some are tall and skinny. Some are squat with slanting roofs. Others are more artistic, with arches and curves as opposed to harsh corners.

“The fort is home to the James family and the Order of the Bleak Moon, the order sponsored by us. There is also a contingent of the royal army always stationed here to man the walls but it’s a token gesture from the crown. If there was an attack, fifty odd men won’t make a difference. Especially as Victory is considered a punishment posting, given to the unruly or disgraced. Combined with the craftsmen sponsored by the family, the servants, and associated family members, the fort is full to bursting.

“Originally, the other orders only built their training halls outside the fort. However, as the population grew, they also built housing for their students. For convenience, their own craftsmen and servants came, requiring more houses. More students came, old knights retired. Eventually, it became the mess you see.”

“Then each of the different buildings represents a different order?”

“And the people associated with them.” She shakes her head. “They may live very close but they might as well be separate kingdoms. The orders have carved out territory and govern it like lords. It’s…I don’t mean to make it sound sinister but it’s just how things are.”

“Sort of like the guilds in Quest.”

“The big difference is that the James family is unquestioned here. My father has the final say in all things but he respects the independence of the different orders.”

That sounds incredibly messy. Yet, it represents Harvest as a whole. The king is ultimately in charge but delegates his authority to the nobles beneath him. He gives us land and must respect our ability to rule it. The same as the duke trusts the orders’ ability to raise soldiers and keep the peace. In that regard, I would say the arrangement works much better in Victory. From the sound of it, the duke can rely on the orders while the capital has those like the Masons, formerly the Grimoires, sinisterly spreading their influence.

I settle back in my seat and close the wooden shutters. “We should make it to the fort in a couple of hours.” It’d be sooner but we’ve decided to slow our pace. No need to startle a very large village, which honestly looks more like a disjointed town, full of armed and well-trained individuals by barreling through their midst. “If there’s anything you want to say, now is the time.”

“What makes you think I have something to say?”

“Sweetie, you look like you’re riding to your execution.”

Her lips twitch at the pet name but it’s not that easy to remove her frown. “Maybe we are. You’re…we’re…” She takes a deep breath, fighting a blush. “Our house is strong, incredibly so, but you really are underestimating the Peaks. There was a time when the force assaulting that land was an army of masters, trained in a time of war. They still failed to claim so much as a league of land. Couldn’t erect so much as a temporary shelter to return to the next campaign.”

I sigh. “Maybe.” When I try to temper my expectations about our success in the Peaks, I imagine the cold wasteland is home to a remote clan of elves. Those maniacs, at least the elves of Dusk, would probably happily settle in such a place. Saints, they might consider it a vacation.

Or, if not elves, some other race. During the Great War, many races were forced from their homes. Who is to say the winter lords aren’t a sentient race that fled the rampaging draconids and found a home in Harvest? That would be far worse than an intelligent monster.

Or, saints protect us, what if it’s a race of sentient draconids? They were also forced to flee their homes. While most used their natural strength to steal new ones, it’s possible some merely found an empty place to rest their scales.

I can think of horrible scenarios all day long but it won’t help. Better to be confident in our ability than fearful of the enemies. How am I supposed to win if I think victory is impossible? “I’ll keep it in mind but this isn’t about the Peaks, is it?” She’s never flinched in face of a fight. “This is about that fort and who’s inside it.”

She hangs her head. “It’s stupid. I already made my decision but…”

It’s my turn to frown as I contemplate what to say. What someone could have told me to give me the confidence to escape my mundane life and go after my, at the time, modest dreams. My mind remains blank as the words refuse to appear.

I settle for throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer. Reminding her I’m here. That she has my support and, if she wants, we can forget this whole thing.

I wouldn’t mind spending my winter somewhere warmer. I could take her to the Dusk Province. Visit my mother in-law and maybe the rest of my wife’s family. Plenty of fighting to be done, if we want, and far more fun to be found.

She closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. The silence is comforting rather than tense as we complete the last leg of a long journey.