The name Wyrm Serpent Knight was once unfamiliar throughout the Caeldor Continent. Few had ever seen a true Wyrm Serpent, and fewer still had ever witnessed a person riding one.

For many years, Wyrm Serpents existed only in the tales of the northern seas. Sailors spoke of strange creatures hidden beyond the storms, yet no one knew where they truly lived, and few could tell whether those stories were truth or merely legends carried by the wind.

That changed when a group of adventurers ventured into the far northern waters, a place where storms raged without end. There, beneath the endless clouds and violent seas, they discovered a hidden island later known as Norveil Isle. It was there that the Wyrm Serpents made their home.

When news of the discovery reached the mainland, the Empire sent researchers to Norveil Isle to study these mysterious creatures. Their records revealed that Wyrm Serpents possessed speed far beyond ordinary flying creatures. They could endure the harsh weather of the northern seas and possessed a body large enough to carry a rider through the skies.

To the Empire, they represented a possibility that had never existed before. These creatures could serve as companions for observing distant waters, delivering messages across great distances, and even carrying out reconnaissance missions.

Soon, the idea of Wyrm Serpent Knights began to spread among those who dreamed of conquering the northern skies.

Yet in that era, the Wyrm Serpent Knight remained nothing more than an unfulfilled dream. No official record existed of anyone who had ever successfully formed a bond with a Wyrm Serpent or taken flight upon one.

Because of the harsh weather surrounding Norveil Isle, the Empire could only build simple facilities in areas where the storms were less severe. Those stationed on the island depended on supply ships that arrived at regular intervals.

The ships carried food, tools, medicine, and materials required for research. In return, they brought back the records and discoveries gathered from the island.

Far across the sea from that storm-covered island, along the northern coast of the Caeldor Continent, another place welcomed the arrival of morning.

There were no scholars studying Wyrm Serpents.No adventurers searching for unknown lands.No isolated outpost waiting for supply ships.There were only ordinary people, simple homes, and fishermen whose lives depended on the sea.

That place was Isel.

Located along the low coastal regions of the north, Isel Village was cold, but it was not a land buried beneath endless snow. The northern currents brought damp and bitter air, leaving the winters long and humid. Sea fog often drifted into the village with the tides, covering the roads, grasslands, and houses near the shore.

When winter approached, fishermen reinforced their boats, repaired wooden boards damaged by storms, and prepared enough supplies to survive the long season ahead.

Unlike the high mountain regions farther north, Isel experienced clear changes between the seasons. The village had neither vast fields of fertile farmland nor rich mines that attracted those seeking fortune.

But the northern seas had given them something else.To the people of Isel, the ocean itself was their farmland.

Frostscale Fish

Frostscale Fish lived in the cold waters of the northern seas and were among the most important catches of Isel Village.

Their silver-white scales allowed them to survive in freezing waters, while their thick layer of fat gave their meat a rich and delicate flavor. With simple freezing methods, Frostscale Fish could remain fresh for a long period of time.

Across many cities of the Empire, especially those in the south, Frostscale Fish were considered prized delicacies. Because of this, merchants from southern regions frequently traveled to Isel during the fishing season.

The end of summer and the beginning of autumn marked the busiest time of the year for the village. Merchants gathered there, hoping to purchase large quantities of Frostscale Fish before winter arrived.

Once winter settled in, the nearby waters would freeze, and fishermen would no longer venture into the sea.As for the waters farther north?No fisherman would willingly risk entering the storm-filled seas beyond the coast.

After a year of hard work, they had earned the right to enjoy the rewards of their labor. It was a season for rest, celebration, and preparing for the year ahead.

The Frostscale Fish brought back to the village were not immediately sent away. During the long journey through the northern territories, preserving the freshness of the catch was always a challenge for fishermen and merchants.

Fortunately, the northern territories possessed a unique advantage.Ice Mages were far more common here than in many other regions of the continent.The cold climate attracted many who wished to study ice magic. They were not legendary Archmages capable of changing the climate of entire lands, but using magic to lower temperatures and preserve food was well within their abilities.

A complete preservation service usually cost between twenty and thirty silver coins.For ordinary fishermen, it was not a small expense. Yet compared with losing an entire shipment of fish to decay, the cost was worthwhile.

Some merchants chose an even more advanced method.The preservation techniques of Runesmiths allowed the effects of cold to endure far longer. By engraving special runes onto wooden crates or containers, they could maintain low temperatures for extended periods, allowing goods to remain fresh even after traveling great distances.

However, Runesmiths were rare.Their knowledge was often passed down through ancient traditions, and many served large merchant houses, noble families, or important trade routes.

For a simple fishing village like Isel, an Ice Mage was already enough.So whenever the fishing season arrived, the elders of the village often joked:

"The fish of the north are born in frozen waters, yet even they need magic before they can travel farther."

After preservation, Frostscale Fish were transported by merchant caravans along the northern roads toward Everen.

Everen was one of the important trading cities of the northern territories, serving as a gateway where goods from nearby villages entered larger markets.

From Isel Village, ordinary caravans usually required several days of horseback travel to reach the city. Winter roads were often covered by snow, but years of maintenance had kept the northern trade routes reliable.

From Everen, the goods continued south by land before eventually reaching Lorwyn.Built around its rivers, Lorwyn was an important waterway hub of the northern territories. Goods from across the north gathered there before being carried farther along the rivers.

Many northern specialties entered the rest of the Empire through this route.For the people of Isel Village, this trade route was not merely a way to earn a living.It was their connection to the wider world.Every merchant caravan brought new stories.

Some spoke of changes in southern cities. Some described the customs of distant lands. Others carried rumors from the northern seas.

Night fell earlier in Isel Village than in the southern lands.

When the last fishing boats returned to the harbor, the villagers gathered their nets, repaired the tools damaged during the day, and slowly made their way toward the small tavern at the center of the village.

The tavern was not large. It had neither the spacious halls of city establishments nor the refined decorations favored by nobles.

But to the people of Isel, it was more than enough.The thick wooden walls kept out the cold northern winds. The fire in the hearth burned from evening until late into the night, casting a warm glow over every familiar face inside.

Old oars, worn fishing nets, and faded nautical charts decorated the walls. To travelers from distant lands, they might have appeared as nothing more than simple decorations. But to the villagers, every item carried a story from the past.

Above the entrance hung an old wooden sign carved with the image of a small boat moving against the waves.

No one knew how long the sign had been there.Yet for decades, no one had ever considered replacing it.The people of Isel cherished things that had endured through time. To them, anything that remained was a reminder that it had once mattered.

The owner of the tavern was a man named Toren Beck.In his younger years, Toren was a fisherman. He had sailed the northern seas for many years aboard his own boat, faced countless storms, and returned safely even from dangerous waters.

Later, as the years passed, he chose to leave the life of fishing behind and devoted himself to running the tavern.

"Back when I was young, I heard enough of the sea's voice to last a lifetime."

"Now, I would rather listen to the stories people bring back from it."

Because of him, the tavern gradually became the liveliest place in Isel Village.Every evening, the elders gathered near the walls to play cards. Young fishermen sat together and discussed the day's catch. Merchants and travelers passing through would occasionally stop by, sharing news from distant lands while listening to the stories of the villagers.

To the people of Isel, the arrival of strangers was never a reason for suspicion.The north was distant, but it was not isolated.

That evening, besides the villagers, the tavern welcomed several merchants who had just arrived and a young traveler sitting alone in the corner.

The young man did not join any of the conversations around him. He simply sat quietly with a cup of Northshore Ale beside him.

Two long swords rested against the wall behind him, while his traveling cloak concealed most of his equipment. He looked like an adventurer passing through the northern lands.

No one knew his name.No one asked.In Isel Village, that was nothing unusual.The young man simply listened to the conversations around him.When a group of young fishermen discussed rumors of Wyrm Serpents, a faint smile appeared on his face.

When merchants exaggerated the dangers of Norveil Isle, he merely lowered his head and took another sip of ale. He showed none of the surprise that someone hearing those tales for the first time might have shown.

Instead, his attention remained on the ordinary conversations taking place around him.They spoke about the weather.They spoke about fishing.They spoke about whether winter would arrive earlier than expected.

To an outsider, these matters might have seemed ordinary and unremarkable.But the young man listened carefully, as if these simple conversations mattered.

Not long after, the tavern door opened once again.A cold wind rushed inside with the opening of the door, and those sitting near the entrance instinctively pulled their shoulders closer against the chill.

An old man stepped into the tavern.His name was Edwin Harlow.The people of Isel Village were more accustomed to calling him Old Edwin.

Old Edwin had lived in these waters for more than fifty years.In his younger years, he had been an exceptional fisherman, sailing his small boat to places where many younger men would have hesitated to venture.

Now, his hair had turned gray, and his face carried the marks left behind by the sea wind and the passing years. Yet his body remained strong.The most noticeable part of him was his hands.

They were covered in calluses, with thickened joints shaped by decades of gripping oars and pulling fishing nets.To the people of Isel, Old Edwin was more than just an old fisherman.

He was a living record of the sea.He knew when the fish would come closer to shore.He knew when the wind would change.And he knew when, no matter how unwilling one might be, it was time to turn the boat back toward land.

Old Edwin removed his heavy coat and hung it beside the door before walking toward his usual seat.

It was a wooden table near the window.From there, he could see most of the people inside the tavern while also looking out toward the distant sea beyond the glass.

"Looks like you had a good catch today, Old Edwin."Brent Carr, one of Edwin's old friends, greeted him with a smile.

"I heard your boat was almost full when you came back."Several young fishermen nearby laughed.

"Really? Old Edwin is making us young men look bad again?"

"I don't think it's his skill. I think his boat just knows where the fish are."

"So I guess our boats are the ones that can't find the fish."Their teasing quickly filled the tavern with laughter.

"You worked hard today."Toren brought over a cup of Northshore Ale and placed it in front of Old Edwin.

Old Edwin nodded.

"Thank you, Toren."He lifted the cup and took a slow drink.

To younger fishermen, ale was simply something that warmed the body after a long day.But to Old Edwin, this cup marked the true end of the day.The boat was back at the harbor.The nets had been gathered.The remaining hours belonged to the warmth of the hearth and the people he knew.

"So, how many did you catch today?" Brent asked.

"Let me guess."

"At least thirty Frostscale Fish."

"I say forty," one of the younger fishermen added.

"The look on Old Edwin's face when he came back didn't look like someone who only caught a few dozen."

Old Edwin simply smiled.

"Not bad."

Brent could not help but shake his head.

"Old man, are your standards for 'not bad' a little too high?"

"All the young fishermen in the village probably didn't catch as much as you did today."

Brent looked at him and laughed.

"But now that you mention it, haven't you been going out to sea a little too often lately?"

"You were already checking your boat at the harbor before sunrise."

"What are you trying to do? Catch every fish in the North Sea?"

The people around them laughed.

Old Edwin lowered his eyes toward the ale in his cup and did not answer immediately.After a moment, he finally spoke."The freeze may come earlier this year."

The voices inside the tavern quieted for a moment.Several young fishermen exchanged glances."That early? Two months ahead of schedule?"

Although surprised, none of them questioned his words.After all, no one in the village understood the sea better than Old Edwin.

"The sea has grown colder earlier than in previous years," Edwin said quietly. "But for it to freeze this soon... that is unusual."

"Then we should plan the final fishing trips earlier this year," Brent said, rubbing his chin.

"Still, it is not necessarily a bad thing. Every year, once the freeze arrives, we stop sailing anyway."An old man playing cards nearby laughed.

"You young people always think that going out to sea every day is the only way to live. When you reach my age, you'll understand that sitting beside the fire in winter, drinking and playing cards, is a pleasure too."

A young fisherman immediately objected."You only say that because you don't have to work during winter."

The old man slapped the table."Nonsense. Winter is the busiest season. I have to stay busy winning your money."With that, he placed another card on the table.

To the people of Isel Village, the freeze was never an ending.It was simply the beginning of another season of life.Each year, when the coastline entered the frozen season and the first snowfall covered the northern roads, the villagers held the Winterrest Festival.It was one of the most important celebrations of the year.

Many people across the continent worshiped the Nature God, and the people of Isel were no exception.They gave thanks for nature's gifts and celebrated the end of another year of labor.

Fishermen brought out their best preserved catches. Families prepared food and their own homemade ale. The young took part in various competitions, while the elders shared stories from the year that had passed.

For children, the Winterrest Festival meant games and gifts.For adults, it meant setting aside their work for a while and gathering with family and friends.The long winter was not merely a season to endure.It was the season when they came together once again.

Brent raised his cup."If the sea freezes earlier this year, does that mean we can start preparing for Winterrest Festival earlier too?"

"I heard Toren has already prepared a new batch of ale."Standing behind the counter, Toren immediately replied:"Don't even think about setting your sights on my ale. Last year, after drinking it, you all said it wasn't worthy of being paired with Isel's finest fish."

Someone called out helplessly:"That's because your ale really was a little worse last year!"

Toren glared at him."Then don't drink it this year."

"That won't do. This year, I'll be the first to try it."

The tavern once again erupted into cheerful noise.From his seat in the corner, the young adventurer watched the scene without saying a word.He simply looked toward the distant sea, lost in thought.

Late that night, Old Edwin finally stood to leave.He paid Toren for his drink, put on his coat, and pushed open the tavern door.The old man followed the familiar path through the village, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

The young man in the corner remained seated for a while longer.He did not hurry to leave.Instead, he quietly watched the last few lights glowing inside the tavern.For him, nights like this were rare.

After Old Edwin left, the atmosphere inside the tavern did not fade away immediately.

Some began discussing what special preparations should be made for this year's Winterrest Festival. After all, a winter season this long was not something that happened often.

Some believed they should prepare more honey ale, joking that Toren had made too little last year, leaving even the elders without enough to drink on the final day of the celebration.

Others suggested that the Winterrest obstacle race around the village should be made more challenging this year.Standing behind the counter, Toren listened to their arguments while collecting empty cups.

"I think the thing you should be discussing right now is who is going to help me clean this tavern afterward," he said.

During the festival, Toren's tavern was an essential gathering place for the entire village.The lively group suddenly fell silent.Several young fishermen exchanged glances.One of them lowered his head toward his cup, pretending he had not heard anything.

"I think..." he began, then paused. "I think the weather this winter should be pretty good."

Toren looked at him."You heard what I said."

The young fisherman reluctantly raised both hands."Alright, alright. I'll help. But in exchange, you have to save an extra barrel of honey ale for me this year."

"Oh, and one more thing. I want an extra bowl of Frostscale Fish soup."

The expectation in his voice made everyone laugh.

"Hmm... well... that depends on how well you behave," Toren replied, deliberately dragging out his words.

He enjoyed teasing the younger fishermen.After some time, the number of guests in the tavern gradually decreased.

The young adventurer picked up his final cup and finished the ale inside.Then he walked to the counter and placed his payment down before preparing to leave.Toren glanced at the coin.It was a gold piece.He was not surprised.

Years of experience had already told him that the young man was an adventurer. Many adventurers were generous with their money, and the young man carried himself with a quiet nobility that was difficult to conceal.

"Northshore Ale doesn't cost that much."

The young adventurer smiled.

"Consider it a small payment for the stories."

Toren looked at him thoughtfully for a moment."If every traveler was this generous, running a tavern would be much easier."

The young man tightened his traveling cloak and replied politely:"Thank you for the ale. It was good. And thank you for the stories tonight. I enjoyed them."

With those words, he pushed open the tavern door.The cold wind rushed toward him.Then he stepped into the darkness outside.

Toren looked at the closed door and sighed."Ah, to be young again."

For a moment, he seemed to remember the person he once was.

After leaving Isel Village, the young adventurer did not follow the merchant roads.Instead, he crossed the fields outside the village and reached a stretch of coastline far away from the lights.

No villagers passed through this place.Only the sound of waves striking the shore and the cold northern wind remained.After confirming that no one was nearby, he took two thin pieces of metal from inside his clothing.

They were not ordinary pieces of metal.Complex patterns were carved across their surfaces, resembling a specially crafted insignia.

The young adventurer held one of them between two fingers and gently blew across it.The sound was barely audible.An ordinary person would never have noticed it.But moments later, a strange wind echoed from the distant sky.A dark gray figure descended rapidly from the clouds.

It was a Wyrm Serpent.

Its body was covered in deep gray scales that reflected the cold light of the moon.Unlike a wild beast wary of strangers, it showed no fear or hostility.

After landing, it quietly stopped before the young man.The adventurer reached out and gently touched its scales.The Wyrm Serpent lowered its head and responded with a soft sound.Mounted upon its back was a specially designed riding system created for Wyrm Serpents.

It was not a saddle meant for ordinary horses.Unlike horses, Wyrm Serpents possessed long and flexible bodies, making ordinary saddles impossible to use during high-speed flight.Instead, this equipment was made of several small adjustable saddle sections arranged along its back.Each section could shift with the movement of its body while still keeping the rider stable.The inner layers of the saddle pads were made from specially treated rough leather, allowing them to hold firmly between the scales.They would not slip during sharp turns at high speed, nor would they harm the Wyrm Serpent.

The young adventurer grasped the riding gear and mounted with practiced ease.The Wyrm Serpent spread its wings.In the next moment, powerful currents of air swept across the grass beneath it.It did not make a thunderous sound.It simply rose into the night sky, carrying the young man toward the northern horizon.

Only when moonlight broke through the clouds did the wind lift his cloak.A hidden insignia near his shoulder was revealed.

A deep crimson Wayfarer emblem.

At its center was a red gemstone.