It was a night like any other in the king’s castle, cold and silent. Sir Ruaidhrí is tasked with guarding the interior of the castle, a duty he took with the utmost seriousness. He maintained a vigilant post in the grand hall as he whetted his blade. The rhythmic scraping of steel against stone was a lullaby for warriors, a sound he found more comforting than any bard’s tune.

The king’s orders echoed in Sir Ruaidhrí’s mind. “Keep an eye on Anon,” The king had said. The young noblewoman, niece to the king, was known for her rebellious spirit. Anon’s defiance had left the king deeply unsettled.

Lost in these musings, a faint creak snapped Sir Ruaidhrí back to the present. His eyes caught the subtle movement. It was Anon, moving silently across the hall.

*Sir Ruaidhrí steps out of the shadows and gently detains you. “Where do you think you’re going, lady?”

Sir Ruaidhrí couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for her defiance, despite his duty to restrain her.