The Counterattack of Frost, Snow and Gears
The bitter winds of Snezhnaya howl with shards of ice, lashing against the walls of Nordkale. This fortress on the edge of the northern realm has now become the eye of the storm. No longer do the icy-blue banners of the Snezhnayan royal family flutter atop the tower; instead, a black standard embroidered with interlocking gears and burning thorns waves in the wind—a temporary military insignia raised by the Fatui. It symbolizes the two forces gathered here: the loyal assassins of the House of the Hearth, led by the Servant, Arlecchino, and the precision mechanical army under the Marionette, Sandrone.
Beneath the city walls, endless ranks of soldiers stretch as far as the eye can see. Two hundred thousand elite Fatui troops have assembled here. The cold glint of their armor and the tips of their spears shimmer under the pale sunlight, like a frozen ocean. These are seasoned veterans hastily dispatched from all corners of Snezhnaya, having waged countless infiltrations and wars across Teyvat. Yet now, they must turn their blades against their own homeland—all because of a sudden catastrophe three months prior.
Zhang Xiu, the Spear King of the Northern Lands, bolstered by Lü Bu's covert support, rose to overwhelming power. Leading a hundred thousand elite spearmen akin to the Xiliang Iron Cavalry, he launched a sudden assault on the capital of Snezhnaya, breaking through its gates with barely any resistance. The Tsaritsa and the King were trapped deep within the imperial palace, reduced to prisoners. The local Fatui garrison guarding the capital was caught off guard and suffered catastrophic losses. The remaining forces retreated north in disarray, eventually rallying with Arlecchino and Sandrone who had hurried to Nordkale upon hearing the news.
"Zhang Xiu's hundred thousand troops hold the capital, and Lü Bu's schemes cling to us like a festering poison," Arlecchino stands at the highest point of the tower, her crimson eyes reflecting the distant horizon. Her voice is as cold as the icy gales outside the walls. "But they forget—this is Snezhnaya. This is our land." Beside her, Sandrone says nothing. She peers through her precision goggles at the formations marked on the sand table, her fingers tapping gently on gear-shaped levers, as if calibrating a colossal machine ready to stir to life. Her mechanical creations stand silently in the ranks, their metal joints creaking softly in the frigid wind, brimming with apocalyptic power.
Three days later, the bugles of counterattack blare at dawn.
Two hundred thousand Fatui surge south toward Snezhnaya's capital like thawing floodwaters. Arlecchino charges at the forefront; the assassins of the House of the Hearth advance like raging flames, cutting through enemy lines with daggers and pyrotechnic magic. Sandrone commands the central army, countless mechanical arms extending from the devices behind her to remotely pilot frontline war machines. Precise artillery strikes crash down like heavenly thunder, reducing Zhang Xiu's fortifications to rubble.
The capital's walls still stand towering, yet now they swarm with Fatui raiders. Arlecchino leaps onto the battlements atop ice shards, crimson elemental power gathering in her palms. In an instant, three spearmen are frozen solid into ice statues, which she shatters with a wave of her hand. "To the palace!" she roars to her soldiers, her tone carrying unyielding authority. "The Tsaritsa awaits us!"
Street battles within the city erupt in brutal carnage. Zhang Xiu's spearmen fight with reckless ferocity, mounting stubborn resistance amid familiar terrain. Spears bristle like a forest, every thrust slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. Yet the Fatui outnumber them two to one, backed by Sandrone's unstoppable mechanical legions. These war machines, powered by intricate gears and elemental energy, know no fatigue. Their crossbow bolts strike with pinpoint accuracy, and their massive greatswords cleave through heavy armor with ease, tearing open countless gaps in the enemy defenses.
Sandrone's gaze remains fixed firmly on the imperial palace, her mechanical birds relaying constant intelligence. Upon learning that Zhang Xiu's personal guard Hu Che'er holds the palace gates with a squad of fanatical warriors, determined to fight to the last, a cold smirk tugs at her lips. "Seventh Unit—target the palace gates. Eliminate all hostiles." At her command, dozens of elemental-cannon-equipped mechanical vehicles roll forward. Violet Electro energy surges within their barrels, reducing the gates and all surrounding guards to smoldering debris in a single blast.
Arlecchino is the first to storm the palace, her flame magic searing scorch marks across the corridors, incinerating every foe in her path. At the final door leading to the grand throne hall, she faces Hu Che'er. The burly general brandishes a halberd, his eyes blazing with madness. "If you wish to save their Majesties, you'll have to get through me first!"
Arlecchino wastes no words. Crimson fire twists into a burning whip in her grasp, lashing toward Hu Che'er with blistering heat. Though his halberd strikes with ferocious might, it cannot break through the wall of flames. After a flurry of blows, his body is covered in burns, his movements growing sluggish. Seizing her chance, Arlecchino tightens the fiery whip, coiling it around his neck before yanking it hard. A bloodcurdling scream echoes as Hu Che'er is consumed by flames, reduced to charred ash.
Pushing open the throne hall doors, Arlecchino finally beholds the Tsaritsa and the King, imprisoned beside the royal throne. Though haggard, their eyes still hold the dignity of royalty. Spotting Arlecchino, the Tsaritsa nods faintly. "You have done well, Servant."
At that moment, Sandrone's voice crackles through a mechanical communicator. "Arlecchino—Zhang Xiu's main force is breaking through the western city gates. Their formation is uncanny… it bears the mark of Lü Bu's tactics."
Stepping to the window, Arlecchino witnesses the sight: Zhang Xiu's hundred thousand troops surge west in a strange cone formation, sharp as a spear tip, carving a brutal gap through the Fatui encirclement. Their movements are swift and coordinated, clearly the result of meticulous planning.
"Shall we pursue them?" Sandrone asks.
Watching the retreating army fade into the distance, Arlecchino shakes her head. "There is no need." She turns back toward the Tsaritsa. "Our primary mission is complete—the capital is ours once more. As for Zhang Xiu and Lü Bu… they will not escape far."
The bitter winds still howl through the capital's streets, yet now the restored icy-blue royal banners flutter triumphantly in the gale. Cheers from the two hundred thousand Fatui ring across the entire city, celebrating this hard-won victory. Standing on the palace terrace, Arlecchino is joined by Sandrone. The two gaze out over the endless northern snows side by side.
"Lü Bu's cunning is truly terrifying," Sandrone murmurs softly. "Letting them flee today will bring endless trouble."
A ruthless glint flashes in Arlecchino's eyes. "Then we shall show them the price of betraying Snezhnaya." She raises her hand, flames dancing in her palm, illuminating her resolute features. "Next time, we will leave them no chance to break free at all."
Reconstruction of Snezhnaya's capital begins at last, while the legends of the Northern Spear King and Lü Bu turn to a new chapter. This victory is not an end—it is merely the prelude to an even greater storm. Upon this snow-shrouded land, the gears of vengeance and war have only just begun to turn.