The next morning, Newton woke slowly to the sound of gulls crying above the sea cliffs.
For a moment, he remained still on the bed, staring blankly toward the ceiling while exhaustion clung stubbornly to his body. The celebration from the previous night had finally died down. The castle had grown quieter now, though faint footsteps still echoed somewhere beyond the chamber walls.
Then he felt it. Cold air brushing lightly against the side of his head.
Newton frowned.
His hand rose immediately toward the cloth tied around his hair. It was loosed. His pulse jumped.
He sat upright at once and turned sharply toward the mirror standing near the fireplace. The cloth had shifted during the night.
Not fully, but enough. Enough for strands of hair to escape near the side of his head. Newton stared at his reflection silently. The color had returned again.
Red.
Not dull red. Not brown pretending to be red. Bright crimson strands glimmered faintly beneath the morning light.
Newton's throat tightened. "It's growing." The whisper escaped him before he realized it. For several seconds he simply stared at himself.
Then Edmond's voice returned inside his mind with frightening clarity. "Do not allow anyone to see the color of your hair."
Newton's jaw clenched instantly. The warning sounded like his life depended on it. A strange discomfort crawled beneath his skin as he looked at the reflection again. "No one must see this cursed hair." His voice carried irritation now. Almost anger.
He grabbed the cloth quickly and wrapped it tighter around his head than before. Once finished, he stared into the mirror again carefully, making certain not a single strand remained exposed.
Only after confirming it did he finally step away. Still, the uneasiness refused to leave him.
Newton dressed quickly before leaving the chamber. The castle had already begun recovering from the celebrations. Servants cleaned overturned cups and spilled wine from the halls while guards resumed proper patrols across the walls.
Newton moved directly toward the physician quarters where his injured men rested. The moment the knights saw him entering, several attempted standing despite their wounds.
"At ease," Newton said quickly.
The room smelled strongly of herbs and boiled water. Bandages covered Ally's stomach while the others rested against wooden beds with varying injuries wrapped tightly across their bodies.
Newton inspected them carefully one after another.
Bruised, cut, exhausted, but still alive. Relief loosened something inside his chest. "You are recovering well."
Ally smirked faintly despite the pain still visible across his face. "We are harder to kill than southern soldiers, commander."
Several nearby knights laughed quietly. Newton managed a small smile. But the relief faded quickly once his thoughts returned to the monastery, and Snowland.
"The grand master must already be tearing the earth apart searching for us," he muttered. The room quieted immediately. Several knights exchanged uneasy looks.
Newton folded his arms tightly. "We leave today." One of the physicians nearby nearly dropped the bowl in his hands.
"My lord."
Newton turned toward him. The older man hesitated before speaking carefully. "They still require another day of treatment." Ally barked out a laugh immediately from the bed.
"Piss on that."
The physician looked horrified. Ally pushed himself upright slowly despite the pain twisting across his face. "We are knights of the monastery." His grin widened stubbornly. "We have survived worse than a few cuts."
Several wounded knights nodded in agreement immediately.
Newton studied them silently for a moment. Then finally exhaled. "Prepare yourselves." The tension inside the room shifted instantly.
The knights began rising despite groans of pain while physicians protested angrily in the background. Within the hour, preparations for departure had begun.
By midday, Newton and his men stood near the harbor once again. Cold sea wind swept through the docks while sailors secured supplies aboard the monastery vessels. The waves crashed heavily against the cliffs beneath Green City, spraying white foam high into the air.
Kelvin Ezion arrived personally alongside several southern lords to see them off. The dwarf wore dark green robes beneath a heavy fur cloak while silver guards surrounded him from both sides.
Newton stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "My lord."
Kelvin smiled faintly. "You leave too quickly." Newton gave a tired laugh. "If I delay any longer, the grand master may send the entire monastery after me."
Several nearby lords chuckled quietly. But Kelvin's eyes studied Newton more carefully. "You are troubled."
Newton looked away briefly toward the sea. "My father is likely worse." That earned another laugh from Kelvin. Then the dwarf's expression softened slightly. "You saved my life." His voice lowered. "And restored my house."
He extended one hand toward Newton. "Green City will remember." Newton clasped his arm firmly. "And I will remember Green City." For a brief moment, neither spoke..Then the sailors called for departure.
Newton released Kelvin's arm and boarded the ship alongside his men. The ropes were loosened. The sails unfolded. Slowly, the vessels pulled away from the harbor.
Kelvin remained standing at the docks watching silently while the ships drifted farther into the sea. Several southern soldiers raised their weapons in farewell.
Newton stood near the edge of the ship staring back toward Green City until the harbor finally began disappearing into distance.
Only then did he turn away. The sea stretched endlessly ahead of them now.
Cold, gray, and restless.
Newton moved toward the front of the vessel and rested both hands against the railing. The wind battered against his cloak violently while waves crashed beneath them. "Now I must return to the monastery first," he muttered quietly.
Then he grimaced. "Before facing my father." The thought alone exhausted him. Edmond Woodland's anger was already difficult. Edmond Woodland being worried was far worse.
Newton rubbed his forehead and let out a sharp hiss beneath his breath. The journey dragged on endlessly. By evening, darkness had swallowed the sea entirely.
Most of the knights eventually settled across the deck beneath blankets while sailors continued steering the ships through the freezing waters.
Newton remained awake longer than most. His thoughts refused to settle. The dragon egg rested hidden safely among his belongings below deck.
Tywin's conversations about Dragarians echoed strangely through his memory now. And beneath all of it lingered the fear of Edmond discovering he missed the shaving weekend entirely.
Eventually exhaustion overtook him. Newton sat near the front railing of the ship, wrapped loosely in his cloak while the sea wind whipped endlessly around him.
Then slowly, sleep claimed him there beneath the night sky. Hours later, deep into the night, Tywin stirred awake.
The older knight blinked slowly against the darkness before adjusting the blanket around himself. Most of the men slept soundly despite the rough sea.
Then Tywin noticed Newton. The young commander still sat near the front of the vessel asleep against the railing, exposed completely to the freezing wind.
Tywin frowned immediately. "That foolish boy." He rose carefully and grabbed a spare blanket nearby. As he approached Newton, the older knight's expression softened slightly.
The commander looked younger while sleeping.
Smaller.
Not the battlefield leader who cut through armies. Not the rising heir of the monastery. Just a tired boy carrying too much responsibility too quickly.
Tywin smiled faintly. "Look at him." The old knight shook his head lightly. "So little, yet already famous."
There was almost pride in his voice. He stepped closer and carefully spread the blanket across Newton's shoulders. The movement shifted the cloth wrapped around Newton's head slightly.
Tywin barely noticed at first. A small portion loosened near the side. Then lightning split across the heavens. For one blinding second, silver light flooded the ship.
And Tywin saw it.
Red hair.
His body froze instantly.
The older knight stared downward without breathing. The strand disappeared again as darkness returned.
But Tywin had seen it. He knew he had. His pulse began climbing rapidly. "No… this is not possible." The word barely escaped him.
He straightened slowly. "Did I just…" Tywin's brows pulled together hard. "See red hair?"
The sea roared violently around the ship while thunder rumbled again in the distance. Tywin stepped backward slowly. "No. Impossible." He shook his head immediately. His mind rejected the thought before it could fully form.
Newton Ice? A Dragarian?
It was absurd.
The older knight forced himself to turn away. He walked back toward his sleeping spot and sat down heavily. But his thoughts would not release him.
Red hair, bright red. Not northern brown. Not auburn.
Red.
Tywin rubbed his face roughly. "This is madness." Yet the image refused to leave him. The stories. The bloodlines. The old histories.
Only Dragarians possessed true crimson hair. Another wave crashed violently against the ship. Tywin looked back toward Newton again. The young commander still slept peacefully beneath the blanket, unaware.
Tywin's chest tightened. "Curiosity will kill me if I do not confirm this." The words escaped him before he could stop them.
Slowly, he stood again. This time he picked up a small lantern from beside the mast. The flame flickered weakly as he crossed the deck carefully.
Every step felt heavier now. The sea wind howled around him. Tywin crouched slowly beside Newton. Then gently raised the lantern.
The light fell across the side of Newton's head. And Tywin saw it clearly.
Red hair.
Not imagination, not lightning tricking his eyes.
It was real.
His breath caught instantly. Tywin wiped his eyes roughly and leaned closer, hoping the colour would changed pr it will disappear. But it was still there. Red hair.
His hands trembled slightly now.
Slowly, carefully, he reached toward the loosened cloth and pulled it back further. More hair opened up. It was low but visible.
All crimson. All unmistakably red.
Tywin jerked backward immediately. The lantern nearly slipped from his hand. He extinguished it at once and stared into the darkness breathing hard.
"Newton…"
The name escaped him weakly. His thoughts exploded into chaos. Only Dragarians possessed red hair.
Only them, no exceptions. Tywin pointed unconsciously toward the sleeping boy.
"Does this mean." The sentence died inside his throat. "A Dragarian?".He almost laughed from disbelief. "But how?"
His breathing sharpened again. "He is Edmond Woodland's bastard." The thought should have ended everything logically. Yet it solved nothing.
Could Newton's mother have been Dragarian?
Impossible.
The bloodline was supposed to be dead, and destroyed.
Tywin pressed one hand hard against his temple. A headache pounded violently behind his eyes now. Too many thoughts. Too many impossible answers.
Slowly, he leaned forward again and carefully covered Newton's hair fully beneath the cloth. Then he rose and returned silently to his place on the deck.
But sleep never came again. The entire night, Tywin stared into darkness while only one thought echoed endlessly through his mind.
Newton had red hair.