Cirnum Silvertoes:
The King of the Winter Court

Also referred to as the “Silver Man”, the “Man in the Mirror”, and “Sir Severtoes”.

Excerpt from Sinclair’s The Eldest:

Capricious in nature, oft times whimsical, sometimes cruel, always cunning; the King of the Winter Court is generally regarded as a force of vicious nature. However, he seems to delight in the idea of civility and courtly manners, as if it was the latest fad that he hasn’t quite grasped entirely. Perhaps a fascination he discovered from visiting with mortals; he frequently takes prime material natives to court, with or without their consent.

Excerpt from Carlson’s Notable Witches of the Woode, widely accepted as a reference to the Winter King:

Mildret lived a small life in a small village on the fringes of the forest. She was an herbalist, good at her craft, better certainly than any other in her village; she hadn’t learned from them. Each tenday she would pay the local children in sweets to go into the forest and gather the flowers and roots that she needed, but she never got them for herself. When she was eight years old she’d disappeared into that forest for what her parents told her was a month, but she knew to have been much longer. She’d no longer been a child when she’d returned, her eyes had aged a decade, and any trace of innocence was naught to be found upon her.
Mildret didn’t regret her time in the forest. She knew, though, with the wisdom of her eight-year-old-eyes, that her place was with her people. She knew that, had the man seen her again, he would have swept her away to be the queen of his world of mirrors. He’d told her many times, on many days, that she had great destiny locked away in those eight-year-old eyes. As a girl she’d known that her destiny was not with that man, but as a crone she didn’t regret their time together. She never had.

Excerpt from Kingsley’s Foray into the Lande Primorde:

The winter court tended to shimmer and shine by light of sun and stars alike, for the time of day was a fickle matter it hardly seemed to concern itself with (the sort of trifling irrelevancy deemed relevant by only those with nothing better to mind). Its brilliant sapphire hues came up from nothing at all if they did not come from within, though any effort to convince them of their displacement and lack of belonging would have been quite mad and entirely futile. Jagged sharp edges of crystalline spires spiraled up into the Glaciate sky and caught the light, and from the right angle they looked to be drinking it up (sun and stars alike) like the teeth of hungry flowers. But a tenday ago the winter court had looked none of its splendour, it had been a horrid thing with delicate peaks cracked and glassy mirror-floors crumbled away. It had been a thing affected by time, and time was a thing the winter prince held no patience for. The winter prince ordered it undo all that it had done. And it obeyed. The day the winter prince returned to his seat of power, sixty-two-and-three-eight years after he’d left it, he brought with him all of his people. It had been Marpenoth (Leaffall).


The Heroes of Feather Falls jackson187