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In the realm of warfare, where battles were won and lost on the knife's edge, the seasoned warrior and tactician understood the paramount importance of meticulous battlefield surveying. Every step toward victory demanded a comprehensive understanding of the terrain, the enemy's positions, and the strategic opportunities that lay before them. Amongst these seasoned warriors, a Harbinger, particularly the Vanguard, stood as the epitome of knowledge, embodying the principles and rules of war etched into their very being. With unwavering dedication, they internalized these teachings, studying them until they became an intrinsic part of their very heart and soul, ready to lead their comrades into the fray with an unyielding sense of purpose and strategic acumen.
Tartaglia, the renowned warrior and battle-maniac, possessed an unparalleled mastery of winter warfare, despite the often-distant lands to which his missions led him. As a native of Snezhnaya, he intimately understood the idiosyncrasies of his homeland, harnessing its unique quirks to his advantage. Nestled behind a formidable barricade of snow, he embraced the virtue of patience, awaiting that precise instant when his strike would unleash its devastating impact. In the realm of war, they say patience is a virtue, and Tartaglia personified this adage, poised to demonstrate the power that lies within a measured and calculated assault.
A small giggle, delicate as the whisper of falling snowflakes, echoed through the winter air, revealing the enemy's position. The telltale soft cling cling of a bell further betrayed their presence. To Tartaglia, this was an opportunity too enticing to resist—an easy battle lay before him.
With a flourish of his body, he rolled through the pristine snow, executing an over-dramatic display of body control, a testament to his prowess. The target was in his sights, the gold and orange a stark contrast to the winter landscape. With unerring precision, he unleashed a snowball, propelled by the force of his skillful throw, hurtling through the air with a singular intent.
As Tartaglia's snowball soared through the wintry air, a shrill shrieking pierced the tranquility, assaulting his senses. In an instant, a blinding flash of gold engulfed his vision, momentarily disorienting him. Caught off guard, he instinctively let himself fall on his back, momentarily rendered out of action.
In that brief moment of vulnerability, a small gasp escaped the lips of his enemy, a telltale sign that they had noticed his temporary weakness. It was in this fleeting window of opportunity that the enemy seized upon the advantage presented to them.
Amidst the snow-covered terrain, the sound of tiny tip taps reverberated, growing louder and closer with each passing second. The swift approach of small feet indicated an imminent and formidable counterattack. Tartaglia, shaken but undeterred, swiftly regained his composure, pushing aside the disorientation. He braced himself, preparing for the impending clash amidst the wintry battlefield, ready to face the challenge head-on.
A tiny handful of snow—barely formed into a ball—delicately landed on his face.
"Aaahhh, I've been hit!" With a theatrical flair, he feigned death, lying still in the snow.
The sweet sound of laughter resonated from his opponent, serving as a testament to their successful strike.
With joyous squeaks, the little opponent pounced on Tartaglia's still body, delivering the final strike. However, instead of defeat, Tartaglia felt a surge of affection. That laughter became a critical hit, ending the snowball war with a heartfelt embrace from those small arms, making the momentary defeat all the more worthwhile.
"You should not throw them at her with all your might, Ajax," chastised a voice from the lines of the battlefield.
Sneaking a look with one eye open, Ajax couldn't help but smile. "That wasn't even a portion of what I can do, you should know that, xiansheng" he replied confidently.
Returning the warm embrace of his little one, he sat himself up and carefully brushed off the snowflakes from his daughter's ginger-golden bangs. His gentle touch avoided disturbing the delicate horn and antlers that peeked out through the cutout holes in the dark brown ushanka she was wearing.
"That still doesn't mean you can throw a snowball like that at our daughter!" Zhongli exclaimed, concerned.
Holding their bundled-up joy securely in his arms, Ajax made sure to avoid squeezing the little tail adorned with a small red bow and a tinkling bell.
He stepped closer to Zhongli, who was also wrapped in blankets and a winter-lined coat. Leaning down, Ajax pressed a tender kiss on the middle horn of his beloved, causing the other to shiver.
Ajax's smile softened, his eyes filled with love. "You're right, baobei," he whispered, the endearment bringing a delightful blush to Zhongli's face. "I'll be more careful next time. Although I had complete faith in your ability to shield her."
The wintry air wrapped around them, but their love and warmth surpassed the chill.