** A thief with very exceptional skills is trying to steal the most precious thing from the ruler of snow, ice, and frost: the winter itself! **
"When she embraces you, your heart turns to ice.
She comes in the night when you are all alone
And when...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The leather of his boots groaned sufferingly as the tips scraped across the stone. Held by his arms in an iron grip and dragged through the corridors, the stains of the stunning blow danced in Keir's field of vision. His senses had to collect first, so he was only peripherally aware of the long creaking of hinges. A double door opened before him, and the thief was harshly dragged inside. His boots met soft carpet from the hard stone, and a stoked fire's pleasant warmth embraced him. Surely they were dragging him into the throne room. If he was not mistaken, it must still be the Festival of Lights. That would make the hall a breathtaking sight without a doubt.
Keir had dared to take a curious peek inside through the thick belly of a silver decanter a few years ago. What he saw there was a ball such as one knew only from dreams: Couples in noble dresses spun under the reflections of shimmering and gleaming trinkets, chandeliers, and clusters of candles. Garlands of tiny plates and pearls of polished gold threw back the white-gold light between the sunny yellow flecks of young blossoms. It was... breathtaking, as if he was looking directly at a ball of the Eternals in their timeless halls.
The festival was already being celebrated in grand style on the city streets as well, but it could not be compared to the pageantry of the castle. The festival possessed a simpler and more rustic charm among the common people. Lanterns and lights shone into the night. Everywhere small plates, sometimes even simple copper coins or metal scraps, shards, and jingling trinkets were strung on threads, and those ribbons were hung to catch and reflect the sunlight. The tiny patches of sunlight then dappled every corner of the streets while flowers, yellow and white ribbons, and dried ears of corn adorned the houses.
Normally at this time of year, the wealth of the land and harvest thanksgiving was celebrated, and Keir lived as a thief like a mouse in bacon, for on these days, there were mirrored gates everywhere for him. The people possessed numerous amulets, always nicely polished and decorated with the symbol of the sun with the eight winding rays. Every household had something to peep through at this time at the latest. So what would the throne room look like this year? Dazzling with splendor and jewelry, overloaded with gold and silver? It would be perfect, the ideal opportunity.
Keir groaned. The thief squinted his eyes, trying to push back the throbbing pain emanating from his nose and radiating into his skull. Straining he blinked and struggled to lift his head. His luck seemed to have run out. The guards had not taken him to the sumptuous throne room to the brightly polished floors and gold-ornamented paneling.
HERE instead, carpets covered the floors. Shelves of dark wood adorned the walls, and heavy curtains of brocade fabric had been drawn in front of the windows so that no reflection could creep across them. Guards lined up, standing side by side on the sides of the room, which was probably used as a smaller study. But none of them wore their armor, and no weapon reflected the candlelight. Instead, they carried clubs at their sides like common militiamen. They had gone to great lengths to thwart any possible opportunity for him to escape, and Keir suppressed a frustrated cry. With his dry throat, he probably wouldn't have managed it anyway. The synchronized sound of heavy boots beside him finally died away as the two men in tunics of red and gold stopped.
