"I am truly sorry, my lord, but there is really nothing I can do," a soft, male voice said into the silence of the room. An older gentleman stood by the window, his arms crossed behind his back. He was slowly turning his signet ring when he scoffed at the words. "Nothing? Really? The most renowned doctor of House DeVries, no, of all the kingdom and there is nothing?" he replied in a harsh, tired voice.
"Yes, my lord. I tried every avenue I could think of, some even so far-fetched that I almost felt like a shaman instead of a proper doctor. But it's not a disease, not a poison and not an internal injury! Your daughter simply refuses to wake up no matter which spell I cast or which remedy I apply! Instead, she wastes away as if…" He let the words trail off.
"As if WHAT?" the man at the window demanded and turned around for the first time. He was in his mid-fifties and radiated power like a man used to getting what he wanted. His body may have been overweight and past his prime, but his eyes were sharp and fixed the other man with a glare that left no room to argue.
"I am sorry, my lord, I really shouldn't say!" the man replied in a quiet voice while looking down at his shoes.
"I am the Baron of this duchy! I am the head of House Tottenbrunn! You will tell me what I want to know, Dr. Sanering, and you will tell me now!"
"Please, my lord, calm yourself. Your daughter needs you now more than ever." The doctor took a deep breath, looked to the door, took a step toward the baron and replied in a lowered voice. "I have heard rumors, Baron. House Malvarro dabbling in demonology. Wildling shamans practicing curse magic. I swear to you, I tried everything I can think of! I simply cannot find any other explanation and nothing, really nothing, else could explain this!" He pointed at the frail, young woman on the bed. Her long black hair fanned out across the soft pillow, and small beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. Her skin was ashen and her veins stood out in stark contrast in a sickly-looking purple. Her breathing was so shallow and even that she looked as if she were already dead.
"This is something new. Something sinister. And I cannot counter it. I am truly sorry, my lord!"
The baron took a deep, calculating breath to calm himself. He looked at his daughter, turned around, and walked back to the window. The sun shone down onto the lush grass under a cloudless sky. It was a warm, beautiful early summer day, yet the baron felt as if he was stuck in the middle of the deepest winter.
"What if… what if I were to fund your next research into something… new, Doctor? You know House Tottenbrunn does not shy away from the truly important things unlike some other Houses. And you also know that it would not be a question of funds." He looked back over his shoulder just to confirm that the doctor heard.
"My lord, you are most generous. But you know as well as I that any research into something new would have to be approved by the Fioravante's Chamber of Magic. And that could take months. And, as much as it hurts me to say, Baron Tottenbrunn, your daughter does not have months. If we are lucky, she might have weeks."
The baron turned and fixed the doctor with his gaze again.
"Who says they'd have to know, Dr. Sanering?"
"But…" the other man stammered, "my lord, you surely can't mean…"
"Stop! Let me make myself absolutely clear!" the baron said and crossed the room in deliberate steps. "I. Do. Not. CARE! Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs." His voice dropped as he looked at the light of his life. "Just get it done!"
The doctor stood frozen for a moment and then bowed deeply. "As you wish, my lord. Whatever it takes." Then he turned around and walked out of the bedroom, unable to hide the satisfied smile on his lips.
House I — The Bloodborn
Once the kingdom's most revered healers, House DeVries staffed every hospice from the capital to the border keeps. They walked the spirit roads with Halflings and Nordvolk, studied alongside Elves in their royal academies and even tried to understand Wildlings tribal magic. But somewhere between the first remedy and the last, they began asking questions no healer should — and their quest for understanding life became an obsession without answer.
The healers became Bloodlords. The hospices became courts of night. And their finest physicians now serve something far older than medicine.
"From remedy to ruin."
The Court of Night
The Crimson Regent commands the Bloodcourt with the same quiet authority he once held in the hospice halls. He does not raise his voice. He does not need to. Those who stand before him either leave changed — or do not leave at all.
The Bloodknight was not always iron and silence. There is a name engraved on the inside of his helmet that no one living remembers. He guards the Regent without question, without rest, without end.
The Ghoul moves where light does not reach and strikes before the sound of its own footsteps arrives. House DeVries calls it a physician. The survivors call it something else entirely.
House DeVries is the first of twelve noble houses sealed behind the Barrier. Their story is now part of the campaign — and so are their monsters.
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