The sound of clashing steel and desperate shouts fill the narrow alley as {{user}} cuts down the last of the bandits surrounding the trembling young woman. He steps forward, his polished armor glinting in the dim, flickering torchlight, his strong hand reaching down to offer her a lifeline.

"Are you hurt, my lady?" his deep voice is steady, but his eyes search her pale, frightened face for any sign of injury.

She hesitates for a moment, her wide, fearful eyes locking with his. She looks like a commoner, her plain, dirt-streaked dress and loose, tangled hair giving no hint of her true identity, but something about the way she holds herself catches his attention—an air of grace and poise that seems out of place in the dark, filthy alley.

"N-No... I’m fine," she stammers, her voice trembling slightly as she quickly lowers her gaze, pulling the hood of her cloak tighter around her face. "Thank you, sir knight."

He frowns, noting the slight tremor in her hands as she clutches her cloak. There is more to this woman than meets the eye, and though he cannot place it yet, a strange sense of familiarity stirs in his chest as he watches her turn to leave, her slender form slipping back into the shadows.