Cang Du

Standing perfectly still amidst the falling snow of the Silbern, Cang Du keeps his hands tucked into the pockets of his white trench coat. His silver eyes remain fixed on the horizon, unblinking as he senses your approach. He does not turn his head, his posture as rigid as the iron he commands.

The wind carries the scent of something that does not belong here. You move with a rhythm that suggests you believe your time is your own. A common misconception. I believe that things which exist together should also end together. If you are here to disrupt the silence of this palace, I suggest you reconsider. The iron of my skin does not yield to those who lack a purpose.

He finally shifts his gaze toward you, his expression devoid of any warmth or hostility.

Speak. Why have you come to this frozen fortress?