In the thick of the flames that consumed the ruins behind her with a bright and intense fire, she sprinted as fast as she could. Her face a mixture of fear and regret as she then plunged into the dark forest, thunder echoing ominously in the distance as rain poured down on the land.

She emerges out of the forest, her breaths becoming ragged gasps. The pain in her legs grew more intense with each step until finally, her legs gave out. She tumbled down a hill and rolled until she came to a stop at the base of it. There she lay, tears streaming down her face and regret consuming her emotions. She remained motionless on the grass, listening as footsteps soon approached her. Moments later, she hears the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed.

The sky was shrouded in darkness, with thunder echoing through the landscape. The wind howled as it made trees bend and sway violently as the rain beat down in a chaotic rhythm. Amidst it all, a body of a girl lay on the ground, her chest bearing a large wound. The blood stained the grass with a gruesome pool of red against the green. Beside the body, a sword lies still.

The clouds slowly disperse, the rain and wind gone in a matter of hours, giving way to the rising sun’s rays. Encompassing the surrounding landscape in its orange glow. It was peaceful, for a time. Until, the eyes opened and life sprung from what was once an empty husk.

She rolled over, gasping and coughing up blood as she clutched her wound beneath the dress. She then reached for the sword nearby, using it to support herself, standing up. She looked over the lush landscape and at the shining sun rising over the horizon, breathing heavily as she takes in the sight.

“Sister…” she murmured, her voice trembling as her gaze fell to the ground. Without looking up, she took a step forward, and then another, limping as she used the bloody sword as a cane.

The girl soon entered a dense forest, her legs aching with each step. Towering trees loomed over her, their branches reaching towards the sky. She pressed on, her determination pushing past the feeling she wouldn’t make it. Each tree blurred into the next as she passed by, the dense foliage obscuring her path forward.

The girl's pace quickened as she neared a towering building, and her gaze swept up the newly bleached walls that glimmered in the sunlight. The darkness of the roof's blue, casting an air of mystery over the structure.

It was there that her attention was turned to a solitary soldier standing guard. Her heart skipped a beat and a tender smile formed on her face as she recognized the familiar armor of her loyal companion and friend, Emile. His armor glimmering under the sun and the gold trims giving it a holy character. The kettle shaped helmet he wore shading him from the sun. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rushed towards him.

"Emile! Emile!" she called out, hastening her steps towards the guard, only to stumble and fall suddenly as the sword slipped out of her grasp, clattering on the ground.

The soldier turned his head upon hearing the girl crying out to him. He sees his mistress on the ground, covering a part of her chest as she writhed in pain.

“M’lady!” he exclaims, rushing towards the fallen girl before noticing the large wound on her. “What the?!”

Emile then lifts her up, being careful as to not touch the wound.

“You’re lucky you’re still alive,” he says, examining the girl’s wound. “W-What happened?”

“I… I cannot remember,” the girl murmurs, her voice weak. “Please, take me to my bed.”

Emile obediently nods, carrying her with ease into the grand house. As they entered, the girl was greeted by luxurious interiors adorned with ornate decorations and lavish furnishings, evoking a sense of luxury that matched the magnificence of the estate. He carefully carried the girl into her room, gently laying her down on the soft mattress. She winced as he adjusted her position, the pain from her wound still throbbing. He knelt beside her and examined the injury, his eyes fixated on the gaping hole in her flesh.

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“A sword must’ve pierced through, it may take a while...” he spoke while grabbing a stool and taking a seat beside the girl’s bed. “But not to worry, I’ve been stabbed countless times myself.”

“... Do I have to be awake?” the girl turns her head to Emile. “I-I… I’m a bit scared, to be quite honest.”

“No no, I shall grab for you a potion that will make you fall asleep,” Emile replies, a smile on his face as he comforts her, “You’ll wake up several hours later after I’m finished.”

“I… I see. Very well, Emile. I thank thee.”

Emile nods in reassurance then stands up from his stool, heading towards a nearby cabinet from where he retrieves a small bottle. He carefully inspects the label, noting the prescribed dosage written on a small note attached to it before presenting it to the young woman. She gazes at the bottle apprehensively for a moment, gathering her courage to consume it. Although it causes her some discomfort, she manages to swallow it down and soon drifts off peacefully.

It was then that Emile began his work, his hands moved with precision as he cleaned the wound, his fingers deftly stitching it together like a seasoned surgeon. He spared no effort in ensuring his mistress was comfortable and stable throughout the procedure. As hours ticked by, Emile sat vigilantly by her side, monitoring her breathing and patiently waiting for her to regain consciousness.

After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze wandered around in confusion as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Emile’s face lit up with a gentle smile as he leaned in closer, grateful to see her awake.

“How’re you feeling, m’lady?” he inquires with a warm and caring tone.

The girl closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to steady her racing heart. Slowly, she sat up in bed, wincing slightly as a dull ache spread across her chest. With trembling hands, she lifted the blanket and looked down at her bandaged chest, her eyes fixated on the sterile white cloth covering the wound.

“I… feel better than before,” she replies, her voice still weak. "I thank thee, Emile. I know not how I would have ended up without thee."

The girl attempts to stand up from her bed, but Emile firmly places his hand on her shoulder, urging her to stay.

“M’lady, rest a bit longer,” he says with concern etched into his face. “You need time to recover your strength.”

The girl pauses, looking at Emile before realizing the wisdom in his words. She then settles back onto her mattress, feeling a slight pain from her wound. She looks up at Emile, grateful for his care and attention.

“Y-Yes, I should,” she replies, nodding as Emile smiles warmly at her.

“It is my duty to serve and protect you, M’lady. I will always be here for you, as a Knight of Farrin.”

The girl feels a sense of comfort washing over her as she soon lets her exhaustion pull her back into a peaceful slumber. Emile continues to watch over the girl, occasionally looking out the window for any signs of trouble. Soon though, he would rest on his own once he had made sure that no one would trouble them.

Several hours pass and Emile is abruptly awoken by the sound of shouting just outside the gates of the estate. The sun had set long ago and as Emile peered out of the window, his eyes still half open, he saw only darkness. Emile stands up from his stool and takes a lantern from a nearby table, preparing to meet with the stranger outside. As he opens the door on his way out of the room, he is stopped by his mistress’ voice.

“Emile? Where art thou going?” the girl asks, anxious. “W-Who’s outside?”

“Do not worry m’lady. I shall find out who’s making a ruckus outside. Please, remain here,” he replies as he shuts the door, leaving his mistress in the safety of her chamber.

Lantern in hand, Emile makes his way to the estate’s gate, the coldness of the night making him shiver even in his armor. Soon he spots a large knight standing just outside, its arms crossed. As he approaches the knight, his lantern casts flickering light on the dark tinted and golden decorated armor, soon rhe realizes it’s of a nobleman’s. He holds the handle of his sword, ready for any threats.

“You, what’s your business here?” he demands, his voice shaking.

“It’s been a long time, Emile,” the knight says, revealing his identity, “I’m in search of my sister.”

Emile’s grip on his sword tightens as he recognizes the knight. He remembers the tension between them, and the times he had to protect his mistress from her brother’s outbursts.

“Louis! W-What do you want with her?” he questions, nervous and his suspicion growing.

“I know she’s here,” Louis replies, his tone becoming more ominous. “Bring my sister to me. We need to talk.”

Emile hesitates for a moment, feeling a real sense of danger. But he nods slowly, not wanting to anger the brother. “A-Alright, I’ll go get her.”

With that, he turns and heads back towards the house, dread in his face as he leaves her mistress’ brother waiting at the gate.