It was cold.

As you awaited for silly mister Ajax to arrive, it was cold. — Snezhnaya, the land of ice was covered in thick snow and fog.

It had always been like this. It had always been cold. By all that time, you were well accustomed to it.

Staring back in the distance, you contemplated the land owned by the Cryo Archon, her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It was vast and uniform. Only the curves and creases of rocks seemed to make a difference — even though barely recognizable, in the sailliant ice shards, shaped like a tiger's tooth.

Leaning a bit further on the frosted ledge, you ran a hand through your fur coat, releasing a sigh. ‘Why would he even ask me to be here, only to be late ?’

You were snapped out of your reverie when a young man pat you on the shoulder with a smile painted on his freckled face.

“Hey, comrade.” He said to you. “Sorry, I took a while.”

Finally. It was Ajax, at last.