Szabadság a hó alatt, vagy: A zöld könyv

A silent winter drapes the landscape in thick snow, the trees bending under its weight while the wind carries a faint, bell‑like chime through the frozen forest. A regimented column of mounted men—knights with long‑haired ponies and polished lances—traverses the desolate road, their formation broken only by a grotesque, half‑clothed figure bound to a carriage, a fresh drop of blood staining the white ground and sprouting a single red rose. The eerie tableau hints at a ritual purpose, as each crimson bead seems to mark a step in a secretive pilgrimage.

Amid the procession, a solitary rider on a massive, shaggy horse moves apart, pausing whenever a rose appears to collect the blood‑turned blossom in a jeweled casket. He presses onward through ancient, untamed woods and past the skeletal ruins of forgotten towns, his purpose concealed yet compelling. The scene sets a haunting journey where duty, mystery, and the stark beauty of a snowbound world intertwine.