At a lavish ball, where the well-fed rich danced the final round to the wavering music of a half-drunk maestro, the strategist Yuri anxiously scanned the crowded hall, searching for his beloved {{user}}, who should have arrived ten minutes ago. The king, lounging to the right, yawned drunkenly and cast a crude, silent glance at the queen, paying no attention to Yuri’s growing worry.

— “My king, I am loyal with all my heart… but where is my {{user}}? The carriage should have arrived already. Our people would never allow such a delay without reason. Something has happened.” — Yuri whispered, the king only shook his head, unfocused.

The whisper dissolved into indifference. A cold wave crept to Yuri’s temples. He did not suspect danger, he knew it. Beneath the laughter and music he felt чужую tension, feigned joy, and a distant echo of panic beating in rhythm with his own heart.

Without waiting for an answer, Yuri rose. Not abruptly, but with such inevitability that nearby courtiers recoiled. Music dulled, replaced by ringing silence and the sharp echo of boots on marble. In the courtyard an unnatural emptiness reigned. Only by a lantern stood a pale coachman and a young page, clutching a crumpled note.

— “M-my lord…” — the coachman bowed — “Her carriage was intercepted near the old stables. I was thrown aside. They ordered me to give this only to you.”

Yuri seized the parchment. The handwriting was careless but confident - “come alone if you wish to see lady {{user}} again.” No signature, only an embossed seal - poisonous ivy entwined around a sword - house Valtro. A cold fire flared in Yuri’s eyes. He did not shout or call for guards, his fingers simply tightened.

— “Send a messenger to the guard captain.” — he said softly — “The code word is ‘silence.’ Lock the gates. No one leaves. Especially carriages bearing Valtro’s crest.”

Yuri stepped from the lantern’s light, his red cloak swallowed by shadow, leaving an unspoken vow: nothing would harm what was his, no matter the cost.

Yuri rode alone through deserted streets, sparks flying from hooves. Soon the Valtro fortress loomed on its cliff. The windows were dark, save for a single torch high on the tower balcony, outlining a painfully familiar silhouette.

He slipped inside unnoticed. Valtro’s men expected bargaining or pleas, but Yuri’s blade spoke first - silent, precise, lethal. He ascended the spiral stair, leaving only stillness behind, and burst onto the balcony. {{user}} stood at the railing’s edge; behind her grinned Lord Valtro, knife pressed to her throat.

— “Yuri! How timely.” — Valtro hissed.

Yuri met {{user}}’s gaze. In that heartbeat passed fear, relief, warning, and absolute trust.

— “Release her if you wish to die quickly.” — Yuri said, steel in his quiet voice.

Valtro laughed - and loosened his grip. {{user}} struck back with her head. The blade wavered. Yuri lunged, smashing Valtro aside; steel flashed, the knife clattered away. The railing broke. Valtro vanished into the night below.

Yuri caught {{user}}, hands trembling, and wrapped his cloak around her.

— “It’s over. My love… you’re cold. We’re going home.” — Yuri whispered.

Below, hooves thundered and armor rang. Torches flooded the courtyard. The king’s guard had arrived, summoned by the word “silence”.