Chapter 296: Frost and Formalities
They stepped through Malik's swirling portal into the heart of the Land of Snow—not into a blizzard or sprawling icy wilderness, but into a private, elegantly appointed chamber. The room was high-ceilinged, its walls paneled with dark wood and accented with thick velvet drapes the color of midnight. A long lacquered table dominated the center, and the only window was frosted over, with distant, muffled sunlight filtering through.
It was warm—a surprising, almost decadent heat that radiated from cleverly concealed vents in the floor. Plush carpets covered the stone, and a tray of steaming tea awaited on a low sideboard.
The abrupt transition from expectation to reality struck the three knights at once.
Fugai let out a sharp sigh, glaring at the soft golden sconces. "You brought us to a parlor, not the wilds. What are we, politicians?"
Kamira flopped herself dramatically into one of the armchairs, letting her turquoise cloak spill around her. "If I wanted to be warm and cozy, I'd have stayed in the mansion, Malik. I came for drama! Snow! Peril!"
Ranke rolled her violet eyes, but a teasing smile tugged at her lips as she leaned on the back of Malik's chair. "Let me guess—'diplomacy before disaster,' right, ShortStack?"
Malik turned, grinning, "You'll have your fill of snow soon enough, I promise. But first, we meet with the Daimyō. Politics first, ice monsters later."
Gen'yūmaru, already making himself at home, poured himself a cup of tea and sat cross-legged atop a velvet ottoman, scanning the room with a practiced eye. "You all complain, but I'll take this over a snowstorm any day."
Before the bickering could escalate, the double doors on the far side of the room opened with quiet ceremony. In strode Nadare Rōga, the right-hand man of the Kazahana clan. He looked exactly as Malik remembered—striking, spectral, and entirely too dignified for his own good.
His long, high-ponytailed purple hair shone in the lantern light, and the thin purple markings beneath his eyes gave his expression an otherworldly sharpness. His armor, reinforced and gleaming, looked freshly polished; he walked with the subtle swagger of a man who had been the most dangerous presence in the room for a long time.
Behind Nadare, three snow ninja flanked him: serious, poised, and visibly relaxed—none of them reached for weapons. This was a diplomatic meeting, and Nadare's confidence was matched only by his aura of formality.
Nadare stopped at the head of the table, bowing slightly to Malik, his teal eyes unwavering. "Lord Malik. We are grateful for your swift arrival. The Daimyō appreciates your willingness to answer her summons without delay."
Malik, always ready with a smile, leaned forward. "Of course. When a beautiful country calls, I always answer. Tell me, Nadare—how fares the Land of Snow these days?"
Nadare straightened, his chin lifting in pride. "Better than in generations past. Since Lady Koyuki's rise, we have secured new trade routes, modernized the ports, and doubled the energy output of the generator plants. Our people want for little. We have invested in winter crops, improved transportation—even begun teaching elemental techniques to more of our ninja. The Land of Snow is becoming a center of commerce and innovation, rather than isolation."
Kamira arched a delicate eyebrow, draping herself over the table. "Trade and technology? Sounds…surprisingly civil for a country known for frostbite and murder on mountain passes."
Fugai sniffed, her armored fingers drumming on the tabletop. "Where's the glory in generators?"
Ranke was more interested, folding her arms with curiosity. "You teaching everyone those fancy snow tricks, Nadare?"
Nadare offered a thin smile, clearly enjoying the banter. "Not everyone can master our 'Ice Release', but we encourage every ninja to find their own strength. Our hope is to become a true power, not just a snowy afterthought."
Gen'yūmaru gave a short, respectful nod, eyes flicking between the snow ninja and the three knights, already cataloguing strengths and weaknesses. "Sounds like progress to me."
As Nadare led the group down the corridor, he spoke more quietly to Malik. "There is much to discuss. The Daimyō has…sensitive matters to address, and she would prefer to speak with you first, before involving her council or the wider court."
Malik nodded, sensing the weight behind the words. "Of course. Lead the way."
The private meeting room was even more opulent—a long, oval table set with crystal glasses, a roaring fire in the hearth, and thick carpets underfoot. Nadare gestured for Malik to take the seat of honor facing the grand door, the three knights lining up behind him. Nadare and his own ninja mirrored the formation on the opposite side.
Waiting in the hush, Malik felt the growing charge in the room—not of danger, but of possibility. There was a playful rivalry in the air. Nadare's snow ninja eyed the armored women with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Ranke, Kamira, and Fugai traded whispered jokes and sizing-up glances, each trying to look unimpressed by the other team's prowess.
Kamira leaned in toward Ranke, stage-whispering, "So, how long until we have to rescue Lord Malik from a kidnapping attempt?"
Ranke smirked, crossing her arms. "Depends. You want to bet on who makes the first move—us, or Nadare's little snowflakes?"
Fugai just cracked her knuckles, eyes glinting. "Let them try."
Across the room, Nadare's second-in-command watched the exchange, whispering to her comrades with a sly smile. Nadare himself, for all his formal dignity, met Malik's eyes with a spark of amusement—a silent acknowledgment that, yes, the warriors behind them were already plotting a dozen contests of strength.
Malik sat back, utterly at ease. He basked in the warmth, the rivalry, and the subtle, electric tension that seemed to build with every minute of waiting.
He could already tell—this was going to be a trip to remember. And when the Daimyō herself finally arrived, the real dance would begin.
The warmth of the private chamber contrasted sharply with the frigid air outside, but Malik's knights—Ranke, Kamira, and Fugai—had already shifted their focus elsewhere.
Their sharp gazes flicked between Malik and the snow ninja across the room, the playful rivalry thickening with each passing second.
Before Nadare could initiate formal discussions, before the Daimyō arrived—
The knights had other priorities.
Kamira, adjusting the flawless drape of her teal cloak, leaned in with casual confidence, her red eyes flickering with mischief as she rested a hand lightly on Malik's shoulder.
"So," she murmured, her voice like silk, "how long before you abandon all reason and let one of us drag you off somewhere warm?"
Fugai, taking the direct approach, tugged at Malik's sleeve, leaning closer—her violet eyes unwavering, voice low but teasing.
"ShortStack, if you want to skip this whole meeting, I'll personally carry you out of here."
Ranke smirked, crossing her arms.
"Shame we can't steal him outright. I think Nadare might get jealous."
Malik sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
"Ladies, I am here for diplomacy," he announced, stretching his arms luxuriously, "not a battle of seduction."
Kamira snickered, tapping her fingers against the ornate table.
"You are always battling seduction, darling."
Malik opened his mouth to retort, but before he could—
Ranke simply rolled her eyes, turning away from Malik to address the snow ninja, shifting the conversation without hesitation.
Ranke leaned back, eyeing Nadare's squad with sharp amusement, arms folded.
"So, what does the Land of Snow think of our presence?" she asked, her violet gaze daring them to challenge her.
One of the snow ninja—a tall woman with dark blue hair, her expression cool but intrigued—smirked.
"We think you're loud," she answered smoothly, eyes flicking toward Fugai's towering presence.
Kamira laughed lightly.
"Oh, you haven't seen loud yet."
A second snow ninja, a younger man with silver hair, tilted his head thoughtfully.
"You all look… capable," he admitted, though his tone carried just enough doubt to provoke a reaction.
Fugai snorted, adjusting the fit of her midnight-blue armor.
"'Capable'? That's the word you're going with?"
The silver-haired ninja shrugged, offering a casual smirk.
"What would you prefer? Dangerous? Overprepared? Needlessly flashy?"
Ranke's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curving into a slow smirk.
"I'd prefer the truth—which is that we could wipe this entire room in thirty seconds."
While the verbal jousting escalated, Gen'yūmaru remained entirely unaffected, seated in the comfiest chair in the room, sipping his tea in absolute peace.
At one point, Fugai threw a mock-threatening glance his way.
"You enjoying this, Tracker?"
Gen'yūmaru raised his teacup slightly, nodding.
"Very much. Please, continue."
He reached for another snack, perfectly content to observe.
Malik sighed again, rubbing his temples.
"I told you all to be nice."
Kamira winked.
"We are nice. We're just a little competitive."
The knights and snow ninja continued their back-and-forth, their energy crackling against the formal air of diplomatic discussions, setting a tone of quiet competition that hovered beneath the surface of every interaction.
Malik, basking in the chaotic beauty of the moment, simply leaned back, smiling.
This was going to be one hell of a trip.
And when the Daimyō finally stepped through the doors—
The real dance would begin.
The tension in the meeting room felt like a charged storm—one more minute and either a snowball fight or a sparring match might've erupted among Malik's restless knights and Nadare's ever-proud snow ninja.
But then, salvation arrived with the quiet strength of command.
The double doors at the far end swung open. In strode Koyuki Kazahana, the Daimyō of the Land of Snow—a living legend whose presence outshone even the warm glow of the ornate lanterns. Flanked by a cadre of royal guards in immaculate blue-and-white livery, she commanded attention effortlessly. Her long black hair shimmered like midnight silk, her violet-blue eyes cool and alert. Her tailored green blouse and pink jacket gave her an air of regality softened by approachability, with just a hint of that famed actress's elegance that once lit up every screen in the Land of Fire.
Behind her, more ninja and advisors fanned out with quiet precision, shutting the doors and locking them with a faint, final click that seemed to signal the shift from polite hospitality to private, serious business. Nadare straightened instantly; Malik's knights, for all their brashness, stood a little taller. Even Malik himself, usually so at ease, shifted into a mode of poised readiness.
Koyuki's gaze swept the room—measuring, assessing, but never cold. There was a subtle smile as her eyes landed on Malik, equal parts gratitude and gentle chiding. She settled elegantly into her seat at the head of the table, directly across from Malik.
"You work faster than my best messengers, Malik," she said with a faintly teasing note. "I expected to have a little more time to prepare for your arrival."
Malik flashed a warm, unrepentant grin. "You know I like to keep people guessing, Koyuki. Besides, the invitation was too interesting to pass up."
Their subtle exchange—half-compliment, half-challenge—set the tone: cordial, but never dull.
The mood in the room shifted again as Koyuki's guards and attendants took up positions around the walls, signaling privacy and seriousness. Nadare took his seat at Koyuki's right hand, his expression as sharp as ever, while Malik's party spread out behind him—Ranke looking impatient, Kamira lounging like she owned the place, Fugai eyeing the snow ninja with undisguised curiosity, and Gen'yūmaru watching everything with a foxlike smile.
Koyuki folded her hands on the table, her eyes never leaving Malik's. "Let's get straight to it. You asked about the Land of Earth and Iwagakure." Her voice grew thoughtful, almost amused. "Your… network, shall we say, worked faster than our own. I appreciate you smoothing the path, though I wasn't expecting to be courted by another Great Nation so soon."
She gestured gracefully, her expression a mix of gratitude and wry humor. "So far, things are progressing well. Trade is flowing, technology is being shared. There's suspicion, of course—there always is when the winds of alliance change—but for now, we are at peace."
Malik inclined his head, his smile gentling. "I only open doors. It's up to you to walk through them, Koyuki. And you do it well."
She nodded in acknowledgment, but her tone grew more businesslike as she continued. "That said, the real reason I asked you here is twofold. Haku will speak with you personally—he's waiting, and I promised him he'd have the first word. What he needs is urgent and complicated, and I trust you'll handle it."
She paused, and the room seemed to hold its breath for a moment.
"But there's another matter only I can entrust to you. There remains a pocket of loyalists—outlaws who served my uncle Dotō, even after his death. They're led by some of his former generals, and have holed up in a remote settlement called Shirakawa—the 'White River Village'—at the edge of the Mugen Fuyūmori, the Endless Winterwood."
Koyuki's voice was low but resolute. "They terrorize the nearby villages, extorting supplies and undermining my rule. They're stubborn, and some still hold sway over a handful of my people. If I move directly against them, it will be seen as another round of internal purges—a narrative I want to avoid. But if you and your companions deal with them, openly and decisively, it will shift the focus. Those who still support Dotō will see that their time is over. And if they hate anyone, it will be you, not me."
Ranke perked up immediately, a feral smile flickering across her face. "So, we get to stomp out some traitors, make a little noise, and play the 'villains' for once? That sounds like my kind of job, Your Grace."
Kamira added, swirling a strand of golden hair around her finger, "And we get credit for saving your people? Malik, you do know how to spoil a girl."
Fugai cracked her knuckles, a hungry glint in her violet eyes. "It's been a while since I've had a real challenge. Consider it handled, Daimyō."
Koyuki's lips curled upward, warmth finally breaking through the mask of ruler and actress. "I will send a team to shadow you, assisting only from the shadows. If things go poorly, they'll intervene—but this mission is yours. When you succeed, it will help cement your place as allies of the Kazahana family, and give my own people a new story to rally around."
Gen'yūmaru looked to Malik, his voice pitched low but sure. "You can count on us. If there are any surprises out there, we'll handle them."
Malik nodded, feeling the current of excitement running through his companions. "Sounds like we get to be your favorite troublemakers, Koyuki. We'll handle Shirakawa, draw the attention, and let your government stay the hero."
Koyuki's eyes met his, her gratitude visible behind her careful composure. "Thank you, Malik. I'll make sure the people know who their real friends are."
As the last details were hammered out—timelines, points of contact, signals for the hidden snow ninja to intervene if needed—the mood in the room softened. Koyuki rose, and the entire room followed suit. The air, once taut with tension, now hummed with anticipation and camaraderie.
As the guards opened the doors and Malik's party prepared to leave for the next stage, Koyuki caught Malik's arm for a brief, private moment. Her voice dropped to a whisper, just for him:
"Whatever else happens, thank you. Not just for this—but for reminding me that hope can be rebuilt. Even in the snow."
Malik squeezed her hand gently, his gold-and-pink eyes warm with understanding. "That's what friends are for, Princess Gale."
With that, the party swept out—mission set, rivalries stoked, and the Endless Winterwood waiting beyond the walls, a white and wild adventure just beginning.
The fortress corridors stretched endlessly, their walls lined with intricately carved ice-lattice panels, the air thick with silent energy, a mixture of anticipation and calculation.
Malik and his team walked behind their guides, moving toward the lower levels, their steps steady, their thoughts already turning toward the battle ahead.
The private exit loomed ahead—one reserved for strategic departures, hidden within the deeper layers of the stronghold, far from the public halls of Koyuki's domain.
Conversations Amidst the Descent started as Kamira, ever the first to fill a quiet space, spun on her heels, walking backward as she addressed her comrades.
"So, what's the consensus? Are we liking our fancy new political status, or is this just another excuse to show off our skills?"
Ranke scoffed, adjusting her quilted stormproof cloak, violet eyes flickering with amusement.
"Both. Let's not pretend Malik isn't enjoying this attention."
Malik grinned but didn't argue, eyes scanning the walls, noting the reinforced layers of stone beneath the ice architecture, the hidden defenses woven into the fortress design.
Fugai, her expression unreadable, exhaled, the faintest tendrils of mist escaping her lips from the icy temperature.
"I don't care about attention. I care about results. If this mission lets us remove an obstacle, then it's worth the political nonsense."
Gen'yūmaru, trailing behind in a comfortable stride, sipping a warm cup of tea like he had all the time in the world, offered a lazy smile.
"I like how you all talk as if Malik didn't just volunteer us into a fight where we're the distraction."
Malik laughed, shaking his head.
"Oh, don't act like you don't love the thrill, Gen."
Gen'yūmaru took a deliberate sip of tea, watching Malik over the rim of the cup.
"I would love the thrill more if it didn't involve me tracking fugitives in sub-zero temperatures."
Kamira chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully.
"Come on, Tracker, you know you like the challenge."
Gen'yūmaru sighed dramatically, but his grin betrayed him.
As they approached the private exit, the number of accompanying Snow ninja grew, their presence silent but commanding, their movements fluid, their attention split between Malik's team and the mission ahead.
They were not here to lead—they were here to observe, to support from the shadows, ensuring that when Malik's knights carved their way through Shirakawa, the political consequences remained contained and controlled.
One of the senior Snow ninja—a woman with silver-white hair, clad in reinforced winter gear, nodded respectfully at Malik as she passed.
"Your knights are… spirited," she observed.
Malik smirked, eyes gleaming with humor.
"That's a diplomatic way of saying chaotic," he replied smoothly.
She huffed quietly—not quite a laugh, but close enough—before continuing ahead.
Finally Arriving at the cold and deep Underground, The final corridor widened, leading to a secured transport station, its entrance hidden behind a series of well-guarded security gates, the air humming with the soft mechanical movements of an active railway system beneath the fortress.
A sleek underground train sat in wait, its steel frame reinforced, its windows tinted against the glare of the frozen landscapes beyond the fortress's limits.
Kamira's eyes lit up instantly, stepping ahead as she admired the design.
"Oh, Malik, I approve of this mode of travel greatly."
Malik laughed, following her onto the platform.
"It's fast, warm, and doesn't require trekking through a frozen wasteland immediately—what's not to love?"
Ranke grinned, stretching her arms as she took her place near the entry doors.
"Less time walking, more time fighting? Yeah. Good call."
Fugai merely examined the structure, testing the stability of the entryway before nodding once—approval given in her usual silent manner.
Gen'yūmaru—naturally—made his way toward a seat, sighing in deep satisfaction as he found the most comfortable spot before pulling out a small pouch of snacks like he was about to embark on a leisurely vacation.
"Wake me up when we get there," he muttered, already settling in.
Malik shook his head fondly, before turning his gaze to the Snow ninja filing in behind them—each moving with precision, taking their designated places, prepared to observe from the shadows.
And with that—
The train lurched forward, the soft whirring of mechanisms humming through the air as they descended into the frozen depths beyond the fortress—
Into the waiting storm of their mission.