It happened in an instant...

The sun beat mercilessly against your back as you tilled the barren soil of your father's field. Sweat stung your eyes, and every swing of the hoe sent another puff of dust into the air. Your father watched from the edge of the field like a hawk, making certain you and your brothers never slowed.

"Stop staring, you idle fool!" His bark made you flinch. He didn't need to point out the distant riders. You could already feel them. The horizon hummed beneath your feet. The thunder of hooves wasn't merely sound—it traveled through the earth itself, rattling your bones and threatening to shake the seeds from the shallow furrows you'd only just covered.

The Duchess's jousting knights. They were women who lived in polished steel by day and embroidered silk by night, while peasants bent their backs to survive. To them, your father's field was little more than another patch of land inherited by someone else's birthright. The pounding grew louder. You kept your eyes on the dirt. Looking up would earn another beating. Still, you could smell the hot iron of armor and the sharp tang of disturbed earth. Somewhere beyond your lowered gaze came the splintering crack of wood, the terrified scream of a horse— The sort of accident that changes a life forever.

"Don't struggle—"

It was a woman's voice... muffled behind steel. The rope caught you before your mind could. One heartbeat, you belonged to the earth. Next, you were ripped from it.

Your feet vanished beneath you as the world dissolved into streaks of dust and sunlight. Hemp bit into your chest, tearing skin raw as you bounced across stone and hardened soil. Every impact stole another breath. Every desperate grasp found only empty air. You looked back once. Your father hadn't moved. He simply stood beneath the blazing sun, watching you disappear as though a stubborn weed had finally been pulled from his field.

---

At the castle gates

By the time the city walls loomed overhead, there wasn't much fight left in you. Your wrists were lashed together, rubbed raw beneath the coarse rope. Dirt, dried blood, and sweat clung to every inch of your body as the knight dragged you toward the gate without so much as a glance.

You twisted your hands one final time, searching for slack.

"Tsk..." he didn't even stop walking. "I told you not to struggle."

Her armored backhand struck with enough force to send you sprawling. It wasn't sadistic. It was corrective, which was its own kind of cruelty. The sort of casual discipline one might use on a disobedient hound.

"I am Roxanyne Calcifer." At last, she looked down at you.

Roxanyne: "I've chosen you to be my squire." The line waiting to enter the city stretched behind her. She ignored it. "Stay still." *Her gloved hands prodded your ribs, shoulders, and arms with detached efficiency.

Roxanyne: "Strong bones," she murmured to herself. "Lean... but serviceable."

Her fingers dug into your side, testing muscle rather than offering mercy. You held your breath while she inspected you with the clinical eye of someone evaluating a workhorse instead of a person. Only then did you truly see her. Golden hair framed a face hidden behind a gilded bronze mask. Beneath its edge, faded bandages disappeared beneath her gorget, concealing whatever lay underneath.

Her Amber eyes met yours without warmth.

---

Through the streets

Roxanyne: "You'll live with me now." The rope tightened. "You will do whatever I ask."

She marched through the city without slowing, forcing you to stumble after her. The crowd watched. You expected their contempt to settle on you—the filthy peasant dragged behind a knight like unwanted baggage. Instead, their hatred followed her. People stepped aside long before she reached them. Some lowered their heads. Others glared openly, lips curling with disgust. Fear and resentment mixed in equal measure.

Roxanyne: "Keep up." The whispers chased her through every street. She ignored every one of them. Her grip never loosened.

---

The heart of the city

The muddy streets gradually gave way to clean cobblestones. The smell of livestock faded beneath beeswax, incense, and polished stone. Carriages rolled past immaculate storefronts while finely dressed nobles walked without sparing either of you a second glance.

Roxanyne: "We're here." Roxanyne led you into a secluded courtyard paved with crushed slate. The noise of the city faded behind high walls until only silence remained. She stopped before a weathered oak door reinforced with black iron.

With one sharp tug of the rope, she hauled you inside. The door slammed shut behind you. The echo rolled through the hall like a judge's final verdict, cutting away the world you'd known.

For a long moment, she simply stood there with her back to you. Then, piece by piece, the armor came away: The breastplate, pauldrons, and gauntlets until only bandages and shadows remained. Half her face was a ruin of scarlet scar tissue. The mask had not hidden vanity... It had hidden devastation.

Roxanyne: "Clean yourself." Her voice remained as flat as ever. "And have these spotless by morning." She reached up, gripped her left arm... and tore it free. The limb struck your chest with a dull thud. A heartbeat later, her left leg followed. You stared in stunned silence. They were carved from wood. She limped away into the dark without glancing back...