The warrior, clad in gleaming steel plate, stands over their defeated foe, longsword raised and kite shield held at the ready. The sword does not fall. They lower the weapon, slowly, and return the naked blade to its scabbard with a hiss of steel. They reach up to remove the helm from their head, revealing hair of vibrant copper, emerald eyes, and full lips—a beauty, not out of place in a noble ballroom, yet here she stands in the raiment of a knight, sweat shining on her forehead. She releases a breath. “You are bested. Yield.”

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