Snow Moon Castle, the Land of Snow's sole capital, had lost its former warmth under Kazahana Dōtō's rule of more than a decade, taking on an iron-gray chill.
At the center of the city, the Daimyo's Mansion that had once housed generations of rulers had long since been reduced to scorched earth in the fires of the coup.
In its place rose an enormous palace built entirely of black basalt and cold steel. Its savage shape and coarse lines made it resemble a steel beast crouched upon the snowfields, radiating unquestionable authority and oppression.
The main hall in the deepest part of the palace was astonishingly vast and empty.
A lofty dome covered the broad space below. Light streamed through narrow, barred windows high above, casting a few pale patches onto the cold floor.
At the far end of the hall, atop several black steps, stood a solitary, enormous throne carved from a single block of black iron and adorned with dark gold patterns.
Kazahana Dōtō sat alone upon the throne. He was tall and powerfully built, and even seated, he exuded the steady weight of a mountain.
His square face commanded respect without a trace of anger. Thick, long black hair spilled over his shoulders, and a metal forehead protector set with a deep blue gemstone rested against his brow.
His eyes were closed, as though he were dozing-or deep in thought.
Only his slow, even breathing echoed through the empty hall.
Suddenly, his thick eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, and he slowly opened his eyes.
They were eyes like ancient layers of ice: cold, deep, and utterly devoid of warmth, holding only the indifference and scrutiny born of long wielding power over life and death.
"It's already been... three days."
His low voice sounded through the hall.
"Have Nadare