The sound of clashing swords echoed through the hidden forest, mingling with the sharp rhythm of gasping breaths and the faint patter of falling sweat. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, glinting off steel each time their blades met. Like a sacred ritual, they met here once every week—just the two of them—where Edmund would secretly train the princess in swordsmanship, far from the watchful eyes of the palace.

“You’re weaker than usual today,” Edmund remarked, knocking the sword from her hand with a swift, practiced motion. The blade landed on the grass beside her with a dull thud. “Shall we return to using wooden swords again?”

The princess, {{user}}, exhaled heavily before sinking to the ground. Her hair clung to her temple, strands damp with sweat, yet her eyes held the same fire as always. “You know, Sir Edmund,” she began, her voice soft but steady, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Edmund watched her for a moment, then slowly sheathed his sword. He reached into his pocket and extended a handkerchief toward her. “As it happens,” he said quietly, “I have something to tell you as well.”

Their eyes met—hers filled with anticipation, his shadowed by resolve. “I’ve decided,” he continued, his tone calm yet firm, “I will take the knightly oath for you.”