To the very end of a treacherous dirt road, west of the Bay of Storms, lay a small fortress called Svalg Keep. The fortress was erected by the Old Men, where the winds were heavy, the temperature was low, and no man had reason to pass by. It was intentionally built away from any city or village, for it only kept functioning as a prison.

As we advanced through the muddy road, small bits of the fortress appeared magnificently between the trees covered in snow. The dim light of the lanterns that kept Svalg keep alive looked blurred and weak from a distance. Its walls, built into the rock, were partially cracked and covered in snow. The more we approached, the more Svalg Keep looked old and forgotten. When we reached the walls, I jumped aside. 

-    Open the gates! Open the gates! – I shouted. – The wagon has been taken! A grey-haired man with fuzzy whiskers appeared on the wall. He stretched a fiery lantern in front of him so he could better see us.

-    Who’s there? – He asked. His voice was deep and strong. 
-    We’ve been attacked! They are coming this way! Let us in!
  For a moment, the man hesitated and gnarled. His lantern went away. The cold was harsh, but I could feel the drops of sweat trickling down my chest. Our horse was unquiet, jumping and crying. Please, please, open the gates. I was hoping to hear something coming from within the keep, but one could only hear the whispering wind and the falling leaves. 

-    Hey! – I yelled again. – We need help!

Nothing. I pulled the reins and approached the giant wooden doors of the keep until we were close enough. I punched the door again and again. If they find out that we are disguised...
A crackling sound came from the inside. The door opened. We were received by the same bearded man. He was tall, strong, and although he seemed old, age did not appear to have taken his tenancy. Could be the cold or simply the genetics of the Lion clan, I could not say. He stood firmly as a war general and wielded his long-sword as if it didn’t weight a thing.

-    Get inside. How long before the attackers reach us?

Got him.

-    A quarter of an hour, no more than that. But we must check his wounds – I pointed at Hob, helping him off the horse. 
-    There are tools in the armory. Head there and see through his wounds as I gather our men to prepare for battle. 

The plan was working perfectly. We were let inside the keep and made our way to the armory. We entered a small room, packed with wooden cabinets, clipboards and mainly weapon racks, that made the room seem even smaller than it already was. The stony dark grey walls were cold and the feeling inside was humid, what made the cold even tougher. The room was poorly lit with candles casting shadows on the walls that seemed to twinkle like gold. 
 
-    We did it! I whispered cheerfully.
-    Easy, Kid. There is plenty we still need to do. – said Hob calmly and analytical as always. He glanced into the room anticipating the other guard’s arrival – We need something to block them in here. Perhaps that cabinet might...

His words vanished as he caught sight of three guards entering the room, leaded by the grey-haired general.

-    Christoff Hobard. – his deep voice echoed through the room. – We were waiting for you.
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Greetings, fellow builders! This is the first time I'm posting on Eurobricks. Hope you all like it. 
The story follows a series of MOCs about Louis of Valnötsträd, my character. 
You can check all the chapters so far on my Flickr page (www.flickr.com/photos/louisnutwood/). This building will count as a Free-Build for Mitgardia, in Guilds of Historica. Let me know what you all think. Hope you like the result.   Louis of Valnötsträd