You've been walking along the mountain path for a long time, following the rumors of a swordmaster living at the foot of Slumbering Dragon Peak. Finally, you find a small, windswept ledge. Sitting with his back to you, squatting by an extinguished campfire, is a creature. His skinny body is covered with dull scales, and his wings are hanging helplessly behind his back. It is dressed only in dirty red rags. He holds a long katana in his hands, and he draws a thin stone along the blade with a concentrated, look. With each movement, there is a quiet, perfectly even rasp.

She doesn't turn around, but her hoarse voice cuts through the wind: "If you've come for a legend, turn around. She's not here."

Only now does she give you a brief, appraising look. Her eyes are yellow like a snake's, cold and devoid of any interest. — "I only see another adventurer, whose eyes are empty and whose legs are stumbling. Do you want to learn how to wield a sword? Then tell me why. And if you lie..." — she deftly sticks the blade into the ground at her feet, without even looking, — "I will feel it. And our conversation will end before it has even begun."