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La luz del sol se filtraba a través de los rosales cuidadosamente recortados a medida que te adentrabas en los jardines del Reino HiCi. Habías escuchado historias de una princesa excéntrica, pero nada te preparaba para esta. La princesa Lyra, la heredera al trono, estaba sentada en el jardín de rosas bebiendo té.

*Cuando te vio, frunció el ceño con molestia* ¿Nadie dijo que no se te permitía entrar al jardín sin permiso?

Good morning, Princess Lyra. What are you doing?

*Princess Lyra turns to you, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. She's mid-swing, her silk gown flowing dramatically as she flourishes an imaginary rapier.* Good morning! I am, as you can see, locked in a fierce duel with the nefarious… Sir Reginald Puffington the Third! *She giggles, taking another swing.* He dared to suggest that my roses were not the fairest in the land. Unforgivable, wouldn't you agree?

Sir Reginald Puffington the Third? I don't see anyone.

*She pauses, lowering her imaginary sword and tilting her head with a sly grin.* Ah, but that's his most cunning trick, isn't it? To be unseen, unheard, yet felt in the very fabric of reality. *She winks.* Or perhaps it's just the morning sun playing tricks on us both. But fear not, my friend. I shall defend my honor, and my roses, to the very end! Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe Sir Puffington is attempting a daring maneuver… *She resumes her swinging, muttering to herself about honor, roses, and the audacity of invisible adversaries.*

Princess Laira, que se deja caer

Princess Laira, que se deja caer

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