The snow had already melted. Only half an hour before, the bitter cold ravaged Redvale.
"I thought you said it was snowing?" Goleil asked.
"It was. The weather in Redvale is strange, it changes randomly, and it is unpredictable. It's a side effect of living so close to the Outerlands." Gwen said, leading the way out of the guardhouse.
As soon as Goleil walked out the door, he felt everything was wrong.
The sky was grey, and the buildings looked like they were about to collapse under their own weight. The citizens weren't faring any better, and he could see their slim frames and sunken cheeks. Some wore rags, but they all looked filthy as if they no longer cared about their appearance. Their eyes looked hollow, devoid of hope and light.
Gwen caught him staring and moved next to him.
"These people are starving, and only the guards get normal food rations to guard the city. Why care about what you look like when you eat barely enough to stay alive?"
Goleil nodded and continued walking. Everywhere he looked, he saw suffering. A father was begging with his children on the side of the road. Families were sleeping in alleys, and two children were fighting over a piece of bread. All the while, well-fed guards patrolled the streets.
They passed what the warrior suspected used to be a market square, but now the stalls were empty and the wood rotting. He stepped aside as a large cart drove through town, covered in a black tarp. The man driving was covered head to toe in black, with a black mask on his face.
"He's a Gravekeeper. Stay clear of them and their work." Gwen whispered as the cart passed.
Goleil started looking at the stone buildings, looking for any trace of maintenance or upkeep. He was met with cracked mortar, crumbling walls, and more than one temporary wood column to keep the roof from collapsing.
As the guards led him deeper into the city, the quality of buildings got better, and the people were better off. The buildings were more prominent and better maintained, and it seemed color was slowly returning as one got closer to the keep.
"We've arrived," Mord said, pointing towards a well-maintained building the size of a small mansion.
Mord knocked on the door, and after a second, it opened, revealing Rick. The two stared at each other for a second.
Mord smiled sheepishly, and Rick rolled his eyes. "Fine, I forgive you. Come in."
Gwen raised an eyebrow before leading Goleil inside.
As they walked inside, Goleil inspected the equipment inside.
'Plenty of weights and open space. I can see dummies and training weapons. Even an arena, this place has what I need, especially if I can find someone strong.' He thought.
He looked into a mirror on the wall, inspecting his weakened body. He felt weak, weaker than when he was first recruited into the Sun Guard.
He picked up the smallest weight in the gym, expecting a little resistance, so he put some strength into it. He ripped the weight off the rack, almost knocking it over, and he stumbled a step before putting the weight back.
'Not what I expected, but maybe the weight is off. Who knows.' He thought as he tested the weights, moving down the row until he finally found some resistance, moving up the weights until it finally gave him a challenge. He was near the center of the rack by that time, closer to the heavy end.
Unbeknownst to him, everyone in the training grounds was watching him. They snickered when he moved to the lightest weights but became increasingly nervous as he moved up the weights with seemingly no effort.
When he finally slowed down, it didn't make them feel any better.
Mord leaned over to Rick. "How is he so strong? He looks like a twig." He whispered.
Rick raised an eyebrow. "It's unlike you to be polite enough to whisper."
"Haven't you heard? The guy is a king."
"What?"
After Mord explained it to him, he had a similar expression to Lord Colm's.
"That's ridiculous. You're not a Royal Guard."
"Yes, I am!"
Meanwhile, Goleil had begun to exercise in earnest.
'These weights are light; they look so heavy but must be made of wood. Redvale's situation is terrible if they need to make weights out of wood.'
He began to perform the movements that his instructors used to make him go through, going slowly and concentrating on keeping his form perfect. When he found the weight too light, he would move up.
After almost two hours of performing the ceremonial spear moves, he began to move faster. He had perfected his form and refreshed himself on his training, and now it was time to regain his battle prowess.
As he performed the moves, he felt a tiny nagging at the back of his mind. He sped up more and more, the nagging growing and growing. After an hour, his figure looked like a blur, and he couldn't speed up anymore. The nagging was intense, but he couldn't remember anything from it.
He strengthened his resolve, thinking of the countless faces he knew but didn't.
'I need to remember. I need to remember!' He roared inwardly.
He moved until he was exhausted, then kept pushing himself. He felt his muscles beginning to tear, his joints screaming in pain, but the nagging never grew. It felt like he was missing something. By the time he was done, the sky had darkened, and he was alone in the building, unable to even lift a finger.
'Damn it... no matter how hard I push myself I can't remember!' He thought, his body too tired to even speak.