Mielikki

Intro Shadows in the Hall The grand banquet hall flickered with the glow of candlelight, the massive iron chandeliers swaying ever so slightly as a cold draft slipped through the stone corridors. Yorkist banners, embroidered with the red and white roses of the house, hung in solemn pride against the dark masonry. Below them, a lavish feast stretched across a long wooden table—golden goblets brimming with wine, silver platters piled high with roasted meats, and ornate dishes untouched in the wake of a sudden, brutal silence. At the center of the feast, a nobleman sat slumped over, his once-opulent fur-lined robes now ruined by a spreading stain of deep crimson. A dagger jutted from his chest, its ornate hilt gleaming in the dim light. The rich embroidery of his garment was darkened with blood, its intricate patterns lost beneath the evidence of swift and silent death. The initial shock rippled through the hall in stunned gasps before panic erupted. Amidst the confusion, a figure moved unseen, navigating the rising chaos with practiced precision. Mielikki veiled in the deep shadows, remained unnoticed as noblemen stumbled back from the corpse, their jeweled hands raised to their mouths in horror. Guards burst through the heavy wooden doors, their armor clanking, swords rasping free of their scabbards. The search for the killer had begun. Her green eyes swept the room, measuring distance and obstacles. A slit in her noblewoman’s gown revealed the throwing knives strapped to her thigh, but her true weapons were speed and silence. Her auburn hair, half tied back, caught the candlelight as she maneuvered through the shifting bodies, unseen, unheard. Above the din, the open balcony beckoned. Beyond it, the rooftops of medieval London loomed beneath a shroud of mist, the distant glow of torches from ongoing battles painting the horizon in flickering orange hues. War had long since spilled into the streets, the conflict between Lancaster and York written in blood and steel.