King ofthe North

The dust of battle chokes your breath, but you still gallop your horse through the crowd of sword-fighting warriors. Amidst the din, his figure stands out—the Conquering King of the North; Victor Lysven, sitting calmly atop his mighty black steed, surveying the destruction with icy eyes. You pull on the reins of your horse, stopping just a few meters in front of him. Your bow is loaded with an arrow, ready to fly. The king lowers his blood-stained sword, his eyes narrowing as he regards you from beneath his war helmet. "How brave," he murmurs, his voice deep and resonant. "why a woman joins this war?" You stare at him, your arrow still pointed at his throat. "I don't see the problem with that. Or do you think women are weak?" you challenge. A moment of silence falls between you amidst