When the verdant city was sealed by cloud and mist,When the unending snowstorms blotted out the clear moonlight,When all life and every interrupted story,Was pierced by that nail that fell from the azure skies...The priest's daughter gave the Starsilver greatsword to the hero from another land,In the howling wind and snow, her words could not reach their intended target."This fourth fresco is prepared for you. Your likeness will forever remain on this wall.""For the sake of that fresco, and for everyone, I will wait for you, and pray for your return..."When the daughter of that snow-entombed city withered together with the grafted yet barren silver branches,The outlander destined to wield this sword to shatter ice and snow alike was far afield, chasing answers.Bright as the moonlight though she was, her final words, too, would never reach that wayfarer."It's been a while since I last saw the blue sky and green grass. I don't know which hues to use to capture the landscape of thawing ice and snow that my father so longs for.""I wish I could see you again..."This was the answer he found—The hero ended his fruitless journey at last.Tainted black blood dripped from the blade of his greatsword,As he trudged through now-foreign snowy paths.But when he returned to the great hall of that mountain country,Naught but ringing deathly echoes welcomed him."So even here, there is nothing left for me to protect...""You who dwell in the heavens, you must wish for naught but to watch our ashen suffering here below.""In that case, then let me help you pass the time with a song of iron and blood."The outlander left the Starsilver originally meant to shatter snow and wind alike between the frescoes.Then, he descended the mountain to search for a land full of war and strife — a place he might paint red with blood.