"What is dead may never die in the great circle of life."
In 16th century Europe, Elias Steele; a talented silversmith living with his loving wife is put to death after being wrongfully accused for the disappearance of the Princess of Gandalwell.
No...
Dear Journal, As the snowflakes settles on to a land that burns with conflict, it sizzles while the smoke of disunity emits into the atmosphere, taken away by the wind as it spreads throughout the earth. This is life. The good and the bad are contagious.
- 𝓔𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓼𝓢𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓮 (1605) "You know, Europe tells a tale in the winter." Baltazaar's tone was ominous as he stared outside the window of the king's chambers.
"We prepare in the fall and watch as the trees shed their leaves to join the earth and the air gains a wintry zest; the animals go to sleep and the sun hides its face. We watch as our land becomes a barren, white wasteland of glistening snowflakes under a cold sun. It is like a sweet fantasy and then a dark nightmare. The food and beverage feels a bit more filling in our bellies as the heat gains favor with our bodies but the animals have gone to sleep, the ponds have frozen over, the plants are frostbitten and the world is as cold as an abyss but as white as the heavens."
"Your thoughts are always so beautifully morbid." Zelda says from his bed.
"Hmph." He smiles, slightly turning his head towards her before returning his gaze to the cold outdoors.
"There was a story of a man who died in the winter." He continued, his eyes twinkling with delight as he suppressed a shiver due to his nakedness.
"A poor man who worked hard for his honest bread. He saved nuts in preparation for the winter all year round. Infact, he saved so many, he had to build a shed to store them in. He labored day and night for his family and for his kingdom but by the middle of winter, his village was pillaged and robbed by thieves; his children and wife killed and mutilated by murderers and his shed destroyed and robbed of its contents."
"Where are you going with this story, Baz?" Zelda asked, shivering as she draped her naked body with the thick, woolen sheet of royalty. It was hard to tell if it was the coldness of the air or that of his story that made her shudder.
"Well, no where really." He laughed a little, turning from the window to look at her. He had finished taking in the glory of his army of men preparing for battle.
"I was trying to explain that winter has always been a battlezone. A dreadful time where the strong conquer to survive and the weak perish and die. There has actually never been a better time for war."
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Elias sat before the fire of the hearth, his golden irises reflecting its dancing flames.
Generating a small ball of fire in his palm, he tossed it into the burning firewood, watching as it blazed vigorously before returning to a somber ember that crackled with lively enthusiasm.
