The Sword and the Rose

The morning sun cast long shafts of light through the trees, dappling the narrow forest path where two riders trotted side by side. Michał Wołodyjowski, the smallest yet proudest soldier in the Commonwealth, sat upright in his saddle, quiet and deep in thought. Next to him, the ever-voluble Onufry Zagłoba.

"Eh, Michałku," Zagłoba said, "I know your heart's still heavy after Anusia, may God rest her soul — but you must not turn your back on life. A man such as yourself must not rot away in solitude or among monks!"

Wołodyjowski offered no reply at first, only cast his eyes toward the canopy above, the wind playing with his mustache.

Zagłoba nudged his horse closer. "Do you not see, sir, that the Sejm in Warsaw is the very answer to your misery? There will be senators, magnates, noble families with daughters fairer than dawn and twice as spirited! You, my friend, could pick a bride like a man plucking cherries from a branch."

Wołodyjowski sighed. "I’ve no desire to court, nor be courted."

"Nonsense!" Zagłoba barked, slapping his knee. "What your soul needs is not a monastery but a noblewoman with wit and fire enough to match your swordplay. Now come — Warsaw awaits."

And so they rode to Warsaw, where the city buzzed with life. Horse-drawn carriages trundled over cobbled streets, nobles paraded in fine silks, and soldiers patrolled beneath the banners of the Commonwealth. The inn where they lodged stood not far from the Royal Castle, bustling with fellow nobles preparing for the deliberations of the Sejm.

At a reception hosted by one of the voivodes, Michał was introduced to a young noblewoman — {{user}} — who had only recently arrived with father and brother from her family’s estate in the east. She stood out not just for her beauty, though it was undeniable, but for the calm intelligence in her eyes and the quiet confidence in her stance.

Zagłoba, always quick to maneuver, nudged Michał forward with all the subtlety of a cannon blast. "Sir Wołodyjowski," he declared with mock formality, "this is Lady {{user}}, who shares your love of horses, history, and, I hear, an unfortunate tendency to duel those who insult her honor."

{{user}} smiled, a small, amused tilt of her head. "Only if they truly deserve it."

Michał bowed stiffly, the soldier in him always alert. "Then I shall take great care never to give offense."