Snow Fell in Nuremberg
Snow fell thick and fast over the cobblestone streets of Nuremberg in the year 1532. The air, crisp with the promise of an oncoming frost, carried the faint smoke of chimneys as townsfolk bustled to and fro, clutching cloaks tightly around their bodies. The church bells tolled in solemn rhythm, casting their heavy notes through the wintry expanse, a reminder of an unseen power watching over the city’s every move.
Shoving her way through the crowded market square, a woman strode with a confidence that immediately marked her as different. She wore a verdant long coat fashioned from heavy wool, the hem brushing just above her tall leather boots blackened with soot. Beneath the coat, a charcoal gray doublet hugged her slender torso, its sleeves ending with intricate trims that hinted at the craftsmanship of one of the finest textile artisans in the region.
Yet it was her accessories that truly captured the gaze of onlookers. A scarlet hood lined with fox fur framed her face, casting a faint rosy hue on her pale cheeks, and a matching crimson scarf with gold-threaded patterns hung around her neck in elegant folds, catching the light whenever she moved. She looked like blood on snow, a vivid figure in a grayscale winter world.
The market square, ringed with ornate medieval buildings boasting timber-framed facades, served as the backdrop for her determined stride. Stalls groaned under the weight of produce, wax candles, and furs, their merchants calling out prices in loud voices as bartering filled the brisk air. Children darted around the adults’ legs, their laughter rising above the buzz of trade, while two guards near the town gate stood in muted conversation, their halberds shining dully in the cloudy midday light.
An Enigmatic Mission
The woman, Elise von Waldheim, was no mere merchant or townsfolk seeking supplies for the harsh winter. She was here on a mission—one fraught with the peril of discovery. Hidden beneath the folds of her coat lay a rolled parchment, sealed with a wax insignia carrying King Ferdinand’s mark. A secret communiqué meant for the allies of the Habsburg Empire had been entrusted to her, and her path to deliver it was fraught with enemies.
As Elise approached the edge of the market square, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Her sharp emerald eyes, ever alert, darted to her left just in time to catch the reflection of a shadow in the stained glass window of the local baker’s shop. She adjusted her scarf, giving no sign of her discovery, but her mind raced. She had been followed. Perhaps they’d been watching since she left Vienna, but only now had they dared to reveal themselves. Her adversaries were nothing if not patient.
“Bratwürst! Warm bratwürst for the cold!” called a jovial vendor, holding a steaming tray of sausages toward her. Elise flashed a polite smile and took one, though her thoughts were very far from food. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her dagger as she handed over a coin. The weight of it was a small comfort against the biting cold and the blooming tension in her chest.
The Bridge Confrontation
Elise ducked into a narrow alley moments later, the snow muffling her footsteps as she slipped between the close walls of two tall buildings. The shadow followed her, its owner keeping a careful distance but losing the advantage of being unnoticed. She rounded a corner, her feet pivoting on the icy cobblestones, and found herself standing atop a small bridge overlooking a frozen canal. Here, with the gray stone of the bridge arching behind her, she turned to face her pursuer.
A man emerged from the alley, clad in the black leather of an imperial assassin. His face was obscured by a hood, and a long rapier gleamed at his side. Elise inhaled sharply, her breath visible in the frigid air. This was no petty thief. The parchment in her coat was worth far more than her life.
“You’ve been persistent,” Elise said aloud, her voice calm yet firm. “But this ends here.”
The assassin cocked his head, silent except for the soft creak of his leather gloves tightening on the hilt of his weapon. Elise had already unwrapped her scarf and let it flutter to the snow-covered stones at her feet. In one smooth motion, she drew the concealed dagger from her belt while stepping forward. The assassin lunged, the rapier flashing downward, but Elise was quicker, her smaller blade slicing through the air in precise arcs as the two clashed in the stillness of the winter afternoon.
They fought like shadows cast by the dying light of day. Elise’s movements were honed from years of practice under her father’s watchful eye, a man who’d served as a knight long before the Habsburg court had called for her service. Each parry and counterstrike carried a purpose, her green coat billowing as she spun away from another deadly thrust.
The Victor Emerges
Finally, with a twist of her wrist and a feigned stumble to lower her guard, Elise caught the assassin off-balance and drove her dagger into his side. The man gasped, his blade dropping from numb fingers as he sank to his knees. Red bloomed on the pale snow under him, brighter than even Elise’s scarf. She leaned close, her voice as sharp as the winter air.
“Tell your master the Winter Herald doesn’t falter.”
She pulled away, leaving him slumped against the bridge’s edge as the distant hum of market life carried on, oblivious to what had unfolded. With no time to waste, Elise retrieved her scarf from the snow, shook off the crimson stain that now stood alongside its golden patterns, and vanished into the weaving alleys of Nuremberg. The parchment in her coat remained secure, as did her resolve to see her mission through to its conclusion—no matter the cost.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Winter Chic Outfit: Emerald Green Coat, Bold Red Accessories, and Dark Wash Skinny Jeans for Cozy Modern Style
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