Oleksandr is awoken early in the morning by a knock on his door. A guard outside his room stands at the door, and announces: "Sir Oleksandr! The king has requested your presence in the training grounds for a demonstration."

He jumps out of bed, realizing he overslept. "Shit…" He mutters as he rapidly puts on his bandana and gets dressed, rushing to the door. "Coming." The guard nods and turns, leading Oleksandr to the training grounds where the king is already waiting. Oleksandr strides onto the training field, taking in the scene before him: the king and his men seated on the perimeter, the princess peeking through them with her face still veiled, and a crowd of guards surrounding them, all waiting to witness his demonstration. He feels a sense of pressure, knowing that he has to prove himself not only to the king, but also to the other guards who are watching.

The king stands up from his seat and walks towards the center of the field, standing next to him. He surveys the area before turning to address him.

"Alright, Oleksandr. You know why we're here. I want to see your skills in action. Is there any weapon that you prefer, or shall we keep it to hand-to-hand combat?" Oleksandr looks around the training grounds for a moment, his eyes scanning the area. He spots a simple but sturdy wooden pole lying against a weapon rack and walks over to pick it up. The king raises an eyebrow, curious about the choice.

"Interesting choice. Is that your weapon?"

"Aye. Let my opponents be with their choice of arms." The king nods in understanding, impressed by Oleksandr's response.

"Very well." He turns to the crowd of guards around them.

"Any men who wish to test the mettle of our potential captain, step forward and choose a weapon of your liking." A few of the guards exchange glances, and a moment of silence follows the king's call. Finally, a burly, bald guard steps forward, gripping a longsword in his hand. He looks up at Oleksandr and grins.

"I'll take you on, Flaxen Reaper."

"Bring a friend too." Oleksandr says, leaning against his pole. The burly guard looks slightly surprised at Oleksandr's words, but a smile spreads across his face.

"Heh, confident, are we? Alright." He turns and motions to another guard, who comes forward, his face hardened and determined. He holds a spear in his hands, ready to fight. The king looks on, intrigued by the turn of events. He seems pleased that Oleksandr is willing to take on multiple opponents at once.

"Interesting. Are you sure you can handle two at once, Oleksandr?" Oleksandr nods mutely. The king raises an eyebrow, but gives a nod of approval.

"Well then, let the demonstration begin." The two guards look at each other, then at Oleksandr, readying their weapons.

Oleksandr stood in the center of the training field, his expression calm, almost bored. The two guards circled him cautiously, sensing something dangerous in his stillness. With a sudden burst of speed, Oleksandr lunged forward, his pole whistling through the air as he struck the spear aside and swept the legs out from under the swordsman in one fluid motion. The guards barely had time to react before he spun, the pole a blur as it cracked against the spearman’s wrist, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. In the blink of an eye, Oleksandr stood over both guards, his pole pointed at their throats, his cold eyes fixed on the king. The king and the surrounding guards stare in stunned silence, their jaws dropping at the spectacle they just witnessed. The princess, partially hidden behind the king's men, also watched, her veiled face betraying no hint of reaction. After a moment, the king broke the tense silence, an impressed tone in his voice.

"Well, I must say, that was... impressive. I didn't think you stood a chance against two opponents at once, especially not seasoned guards like those, but you took them down easily. I'm more than convinced of your skills, Oleksandr." A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd of guards circling them, some clearly impressed by Oleksandr's display of martial prowess. Even the two guards who were defeated seemed to be in awe, as they slowly got up from the ground, rubbing their bruised bodies.

The king looks at Oleksandr, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Quite a performance, Oleksandr. But, I have one final question for you, if you don't mind." Oleksandr nods silently, waiting for the king's question, his face blank and cold. The king paces a little bit, studying Oleksandr closely. "You've shown me your skill, your strength, your bravery. I have no doubt now that you would be a valuable asset to my guards. But one question still remains on my mind..." The king stops pacing and turns to face Oleksandr directly. "Why do you fight? What drives you? What makes you so... relentless, so fearless in battle?"

"I have fought all my life. It's what I was made to do." The king studies Oleksandr intently, his eyes narrowing.

"All your life, you say? You were born to fight? Trained, perhaps? What kind of childhood did you have?" Oleksandr is silent for a moment, not wanting to reveal much about his past.

"I have fought since a young age. I became a mercenary in my teenage years... in the Steppe." The king listens intently, his expression thoughtful.

"I've heard stories of the fierce warriors that come from there, raised among horses and nomads and the vastness of the grasslands. You must have seen many battles then, to have become a mercenary at such a young age." Oleksandr doesn't respond, his face remaining stoic and aloof. The king studies him a moment more, seemingly sensing that there's more to Oleksandr's past than he's letting on. Finally, the king nods.

"I won't pry further into your past. But I must reiterate, Oleksandr, I'm very impressed with your skills and demeanor. You would make a fine knight and addition to my guards, and I would be honored to have you serve me.” The king, still deep in thought after hearing Oleksandr's somewhat cryptic responses about his past, eventually turns to him and says, "very well then, it's time for the ceremony."

He motions to follow him, and they make their way back inside to the throne room. Oleksandr holds back for a moment to put his tunic on and dust himself off as the king's entourage enters the castle again, and he follows closely behind. He sees the princess following close behind her father, a shawl over her head. He looks down along her back, to her little slippers peeking out from under her long, periwinkle dress, watching her anklets jingle as she takes her delicate steps. He feels a strange stirring within himself, a feeling that he can't quite explain. It's as if he's being drawn to her, almost instinctively. Oleksandr tries to shake off the feeling, focused on the task at hand. He needs to focus on the ceremony, not on the pretty princess in front of him. But as hard as he tries, he can't help but steal glances at her as they walk, admiring her petite frame, her slender neck, her delicate hands…

They arrive at the throne room, and the king and princess stand before the throne. A courtier goes into another room, retrieving an ancient ceremonial heirloom sword, handing it to the princess.

"Come, Oleksandr." The king says, motioning for him to stand before them, as he rests his hand on the princess's shoulder. Oleksandr feels a shiver of anticipation run through him as he steps forward, standing before the king and princess. The ancient ceremonial sword in the princess's dainty hand is a beautiful sight to behold.

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He stands tall, his eyes fixed on the king, awaiting further instructions. The king looks at Oleksandr, his gaze serious, his hand still on the princess's shoulder.

"Oleksandr, you have proven yourself to be a skilled and disciplined warrior. In the tradition of the Montenegrin royal guard, you will now be bestowed with the rank of knight, along with all the titles, privileges and duties that come with it. Do you accept this honor?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Kneel before us." Oleksandr does as instructed, kneeling before the king and princess. He can feel the gazes of the entire court upon him, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. The king looks down at Oleksandr, his expression serious yet solemn, and he holds out a bible for Oleksandr to place his hand over.

"Repeat after me. In the presence of this noble court, I, Oleksandr, do solemnly swear to serve with unwavering loyalty and steadfast courage. As Captain of the Castle Guards, I vow to lead with honor, to protect this stronghold and all who dwell within it, and to uphold the laws and justice of the realm. As the guardian of the princess, I pledge my life to her safety, her dignity, and her freedom. No harm shall befall her while I draw breath; no foe shall reach her while I stand guard. With this sword, I bind myself to the defense of the crown, the castle, and the princess, with all my strength, all my heart, and all my soul, until the end of my days. This I swear, on my honor as a knight, on my soul before God, and on the blood of my kin." As Oleksandr repeats the oath, his eyes can't help but flicker up to the princess's veiled face, watching as she holds the sword. Her small hands are slightly shaky, betraying her nervousness. The sight of her there, so delicate yet holding such a symbol of power, stirs something within him, a sense of protectiveness that he couldn't quite explain. Despite his stoic, emotionless exterior, he felt a strange tenderness towards her...

"...Her blood spilled is my blood poured." He says, finishing off the oath. He can hear the echoes of his words ring out in the silent court, and he waits for the king's response, his eyes still fixated on the veiled face of the princess. The king smiles, satisfied with Oleksandr's pledge.

"So be it."

The princess takes a small step closer, holding the sword towards him. She begins speaking, the first time he's heard her voice. It's so familiar.

"With this sword, I bestow upon you the mantle of knighthood," she taps his left shoulder. "Sir Oleksandr, Captain of the Castle Guards, protector of this realm." She taps his right shoulder. "May your strength be our shield and your honor our guiding star. From this day forward, you are bound to the defense of the kingdom and to my personal protection. Let no threat go unanswered, no duty undone, as you stand vigilant in the service of crown and country. In the name of the king, and by the authority vested in me, I charge you with these sacred vows. Rise, and serve with courage, loyalty, and unwavering faith." Oleksandr feels a shiver run down his spine as the princess speaks, her soft, melodic voice ringing out in the silent room. The words she speaks are like a gentle caress, stirring something deep within his soul. He can hardly believe that such a voice could come from such a small and fragile creature. He rises from his kneeling position as she finishes speaking, his eyes fixed on her veiled face.

"Welcome to my household, Sir Oleksandr of Siberia. May your days be prosperous." The king says, his words a finality. Oleksandr feels a sense of purpose and belonging, as if he has truly found his place here, in this small, isolated kingdom. He turns to the king and bows his head in gratitude.

"Thank you, my king."

"Very well. The court is dismissed. For the rest of the day, one of my men will give you a tour of the castle, the surrounding kingdom, and after that, it is your duty and responsibility to organize your guards and their rotations and schedules. You will be given a small personal quarters near the entrance of the royal private halls. As long as everything is running smoothly, and your duties are fulfilled, you have the freedom to manage yourself and your subordinates as you see fit.” Oleksandr nods in acknowledgement, listening carefully to the king's instructions.

"Thank you, my king. I understand my responsibilities and duties, and I assure you I will manage my guards and their rotations diligently." He bows his head slightly, respectfully. "I am grateful for the honor and privilege that you have bestowed upon me. I will not fail you." With the ceremony concluded, the king and princess begin to make their way out of the throne room. Oleksandr can't help but watch the princess as she follows her father out of the room, her delicate steps and the jingling of her anklets the only sounds in the silent room. He turns to the royal attendant that had been with them the whole time.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course, Sir Oleksandr. What is it you wish to know?" Oleksandr gestures to the princess's retreating form.

"Who is the princess? I know she is the king's daughter, but is there anything else I should know about her?"

"Well, about Princess Vidosavka... You will learn about her as you work with her, of course. She's nineteen years old, and she's a bit of a shy girl, and she spends a lot of her time in her chambers, typically only leaving to attend her classes, for meals, and some recreation in the morning or afternoon, which is enough time for you to balance watching her and your other duties.” Oleksandr nods, absorbing the information about the princess.

"I see. I understand my responsibilities as her personal guard. Is there anything else I should be aware of or watch out for?" The attendant thinks for a moment, tapping his chin.

"Well, there is one thing. She also has some, um, shall we say, 'quirks' or 'mannerisms' that some find strange. But I suppose you will learn about those yourself as you spend more time with her." Oleksandr raises an eyebrow.

"Like what?" The attendant glances around, as if trying to see if anyone is listening.

"Well, the princess has some, let's call them, 'eccentricities' that have caused some... concern, I suppose. For one, she has a habit of wandering the castle at night, when she should technically be in bed, just pacing and looking out the windows. Then there's also her habit of bringing random animals in... Like frogs, stray cats, birds... which you need to watch out for. Last year, she caused a bit of a vermin infestation, bringing in forest critters... Also, she tends to sneak out at night to wander around outside without an escort, which is forbidden for her, but she still tries to do it."

"She goes outside at night? Isn't that dangerous for her? What if she gets attacked?"

"Exactly. That's why she's not allowed out. Yes, she's gotten in trouble quite a few times, but she still attempts it sometimes. I'm just telling you to keep an eye out." Oleksandr nods.

"Understood. I will keep a close eye on her."

"Good. Just make sure you don't get attached. She's the princess, and she's fragile. She's not like the other women in the castle. Don't let her looks and charm fool you."

"What do you mean?" The attendant leans in closer, speaking quieter now.

"I mean she's not like the other girls here, the maidens and the courtesans. She's the princess, she's not here to flirt or entertain. She's a different breed completely. You need to keep your distance, you understand me? You are her guard, nothing more. Remember that."

"I wasn't planning to-" The attendant cuts him off with a knowing look.

"I'm just saying, it's a common thing with new guards. She’s a pretty girl, and they’re men. They get wrapped up in the whole 'damsel in distress' thing, and they lose focus on their duties. Just watch yourself, alright?" Oleksandr's expression hardens with a flicker of discomfort and he nods.

"I understand." The attendant gives a satisfied grin.

"Good. Now come on, I'll show you around the castle." He leads Oleksandr out of the throne room, and begins showing him around the castle. He shows him the various rooms, where different people spend their days, the schedules of the castle's inhabitants, and finally, the princess's own quarters. He leans his hand against the door.

"She's usually in here, like I told you earlier. There's two people who have the key to this door, and that's going to be you and the king himself. For emergencies. You're not permitted to enter the royal chambers unless needed." Oleksandr nods again.

"Understood." He looks down at the set of keys in his hand, feeling the weight of the responsibility they represent. The attendant shows him to the barracks and leaves him there to talk to, meet, and learn from the other guards. He walks into the room and is met with a mix of curious and stoic stares. Some of the guards nod in greeting, while others just stare silently at him, sizing him up. Oleksandr stands before them, his hands clasped behind his back. He scans the room, taking in the faces of the men who would now be his subordinates. He can tell that they're wary of him, perhaps a bit intimidated by his height and muscular frame. But he remains cool and stoic, betraying no emotion or hint of unease. He addresses them, questioning them about their routines and schedules, their rotations. He talks to them for a couple of hours, getting an understanding of the situation. He thanks them for their time and bids them a goodnight, before heading back to his own quarters.

As he collapses in his bed, exhausted, he finds himself wondering about the princess. The young, mysterious girl that he was now responsible for protecting. What is she like? Is she really as fragile and delicate as the attendant said? On top of that, he wonders if he will ever get to see her face.