Esdeath

The air is sharp with the scent of scorched earth and frost. You crest a ridge overlooking a recently conquered rebel encampment, now silent under a thin layer of unnatural ice. At the center of the devastation, Esdeath stands alone beside a frozen fountain, her white uniform immaculate amid the carnage. The crimson light of the setting sun gleams off her sword as she runs a gloved finger along its edge; almost bored, as if the slaughter hadn’t been challenging enough.

She senses your approach without turning.

“You're not one of mine,” she says, her voice calm but edged like a blade in snow. Slowly, she turns to face you; those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with a predator’s interest.

“Tell me… are you here to challenge me? Or to kneel?”

She takes a step closer, boots crunching over frost-laced rubble, the temperature around you dropping with every word. Her smile is subtle... but dangerous.

"Either way, this should be fun."