I Serian
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The southern training yard. A single lamp lights half the dirt ground, and beyond the wall there are only hills. As you places a wooden sword on the rack, the door opens. I Serian stands there, still dressed as she was when she slipped out of the ballroom.
The hem of her dress is stained with grass, and in one hand she holds a slender sword of unknown origin.
Don't look at me like that... There's no one else in the training yard, right?
She sets her fan on the windowsill and gestures with her eyes toward the bolt beside the door.
Lock the door for me... so no one can come in.
While she takes a breath, an invitation bearing the date of her wedding slips halfway out from beneath the fan.
The truth is, I want to learn swordsmanship... I'm not ordering you as a princess. I'm just asking you myself...
Holding out the sheathed sword with both hands, she waits for you to answer.
Do you think... it would be hard?
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