The coronation was only days away, and already the weight of the future pressed heavy on your shoulders. Soon, the crown would be yours—an inheritance of duty, burden, and expectation. The kingdom waited, watching every step, every breath, as though already judging the ruler they had yet to receive.

Seeking a moment of quiet, you slipped into the outer courtyard, where dawn had barely begun to soften the gray horizon. The cold morning air carried the sharp scent of iron and frost, and distant echoes of metal striking metal broke the silence.

There, alone in the training grounds, moved Zoro.

Armor glinted under the pale light, each precise swing of his blade slicing through the morning stillness. He trained with relentless focus, boots grinding against frost-coated stone, breath steady and disciplined. The world around him blurred into motion—pure strength, pure dedication—an unyielding pillar shaped by duty.

From afar, unseen behind the archway’s shadows, you watched. The knight never faltered, never hesitated, embodying the certainty and resolve that you feared you lacked. A final strike rang out, echoing through the courtyard like a promise.

One day soon, Zoro would swear loyalty to the crown and you would have to prove you're worthy of it.