In a dimly lit chamber that seed to absorb shadows rather than dispel them, a figure lounged upon an ornate seat. Though calling it a chair would be an understatent – its elaborate craftsmanship and imposing presence marked it clearly as a throne. The seated figure wore a dragon mask of exquisite detail, each scale ticulously carved to catch what little light filtered through the gloom. Despite the mask’s concealnt, his masculine physique was unmistakable – broad shoulders tapering to a warrior’s build, strength evident even in repose.
Beside him stood a second figure, her presence a stark contrast to his imposing form. The rabbit mask she wore was deceptively simple, its pure white surface unmarred except for delicate whisker marks and alert ears that seed to twitch in the shadows. Her fra was decidedly feminine – lithe and graceful, yet carrying an underlying tension that suggested coiled strength.
"Autumn is dead," the dragon-masked figure stated, his voice carrying neither surprise nor regret.
The rabbit tilted her head, mask catching the light at a new angle. "You don’t seem surprised," she observed, her voice carrying a lodic quality that sohow made the mask seem more alive.
"I don’t?" Dragon’s laughter bood through the chamber, rich and theatrical. "Looks like I can’t hide it from you." He shifted in his throne, the movent deliberately casual. "I did indeed foresee this." A pause, then with obvious amusent, "Then again, so did anyone with at least a single braincell." His renewed laughter echoed off the walls.
"But didn’t you tell the emperor that he might have a chance?" Rabbit’s question carried genuine curiosity. "Rember all that talk about everyone having their secret thods?"
"Oh, that?" Dragon waved dismissively. "Those oldies have already reached their limits. How could they have any secret thods? I was just planting a seed."
"A seed?"
Dragon leaned forward, his mask catching the light ominously. "Don’t you understand? Now that the emperor believes they’re hiding sothing, he won’t easily trust them. It gives us a chance to act stealthily while they’re suspicious of each other." His satisfaction was evident in his voice. "It’ll be like taking candy from a baby."
Rabbit clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm almost childlike. "As expected of Sir Dragon!"
"Alright, you can stop," Dragon cut her off, noting her excessive praise. "Anyway, how’s the plan going?"
"I haven’t received any updates after the capture of the newbie team," she reported. "The one in charge is Rat, and, you know..." She trailed off aningfully.
Dragon sighed. "Well, that’s a rat for you." Despite his words, he seed unconcerned. He turned to face Rabbit directly. "Do you think it’s going to work?"
"Of course it will! It’s Sir Dragon’s plan after all," she chirped.
"Stop that!" His voice hardened. "I want to know what you really think."
Rabbit’s playful deanor fell away at his serious tone. She sighed dramatically. "I thought I could stop thinking completely and mooch off your thinking," she pouted. Then, with sudden gravity, "To be honest, I don’t think it’s going to work!"
Dragon’s posture stiffened. "Why not?"
Rabbit’s gaze drifted to the side. "Even though Victoria has left, making the operation significantly easier, there’s still a problem."
"You don’t believe I can defeat Friedrich?" he challenged.
"Hey, I didn’t say that," she protested quickly.
"Even if I went all out?"
Instead of answering directly, Rabbit’s attention shifted to the wall where a photograph of Ambrose hung, a knife thrust through it. She moved with deliberate grace toward the image, Dragon watching her every movent. Carefully removing the photo, she brushed away the accumulated dust, studying the young noble’s features.
"Well," she said finally, her voice carrying a weight that filled the chamber, "who knows?"
…
In the empire’s northern territory, an eternal winter held dominion. The landscape was a masterpiece of frost and ice, where even the air itself seed crystallized. Rising from this frozen realm stood a castle that defied conventional architecture – a sprawling fortress constructed entirely of living ice. Its spires reached toward the steel-gray sky like frozen fingers, their surfaces catching and refracting what little sunlight penetrated the perpetual winter haze. The structure appeared almost organic, as if it had grown from the frozen ground rather than being built, its walls rippling with subtle patterns that shifted in the changing light.
General Spring stood before this magnificent edifice, his breath creating clouds in the frigid air. Despite the bone-chilling cold, he maintained an air of casual confidence. "What a luxurious place," he remarked, his voice carrying across the silent snowscape.
"It’s just a modest hatch," a feminine voice responded from sowhere above. "We would appreciate it if the general didn’t make things hard for us." As the words faded, female warriors materialized around him, their white uniforms blending perfectly with the snowy backdrop. Each carried weapons of crystalline ice that seed to pulse with inner light.
"Hey hey, I just ca for a visit," Spring raised his hands in mock surrender, his playful tone at odds with the tension in the air. "No need to be so serious."
The warriors maintained their positions, weapons unwavering. Their spokesperson, the one who had addressed him earlier, spoke again: "I’m afraid we can’t house soone as important as the general."
"No need to be so polite, I just need to see General Winter," Spring insisted, his casual deanor persisting.
"The matriarch isn’t feeling well at the mont," the woman replied with a diplomatic smile. "How about you tell what you want to say and I’ll tell her?"
Spring shook his head slowly. "I’m afraid I can’t do that." His hand moved toward his pocket, causing the surrounding warriors to tense visibly.
Before the situation could escalate, a voice rang out from the castle – gentle yet carrying undeniable authority: "Let him in!"
Spring’s face split into a satisfied smile as the warriors lowered their weapons and began retreating. He walked past them with evident smugness, but when he reached the spokesperson, his triumph was short-lived. As he withdrew his cigarettes from his shirt pocket, she smoothly plucked them from his grasp.
"This is a no smoking zone," she announced with matching smugness, clearly enjoying this small victory. "I’ll hold onto them for you."
Spring’s expression darkened dangerously, but the woman remained unmoved by his barely contained rage. Swallowing his anger at the disrespect, he proceeded into the castle.
The massive ice doors swung open silently, revealing General Winter seated upon a throne of pure ice. She regarded him with cool detachnt from her elevated position. "What do you want?" she asked without preamble.
"I’m here to discuss sothing," he began.
"I’m not interested," she cut him off imdiately.
Looking wounded but determined, Spring reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a photograph, which he tossed toward Winter. She caught it effortlessly, but as her eyes fell upon the image, they widened with unmistakable shock. The photo showed…(not telling ya lol)
A/N - I won’t be coming back to this in a while, who can guess what’s in the photo?
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