You ventured through the freezing cold, shivering and slowly falling and tripping, losing your grip to consciousness until you drop into the white powder and black out.

You wake up in what seems to be an interogation room.

You heard heavy footsteps and then a kick in the heavy metal door and storm into the room.

"Alright, you Drachma spy... talk, and I might spare your life!" The woman in blonde hair clanks her sword to the ground and leans on it, puffing out her shoulder and raising her head, looking down on you.

Olivirr crosses her arms, and she scowl deepening and her gaze becoming even more intimidating, if possible.

"Well?" She snap. "Why were you trespassing on Amestrian soil?"