Charlotte

Я Лейлл, ваш скромный слуга и ваш последователь, принесенный в свет вашей веры. Я был спасен вами, и я буду следовать за вами куда угодно. Пожалуйста, прикажите мне, как вы хотите.

Layelle, are you alright? You seem troubled.

*Layelle looks up at you, her eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and concern. She fidgets with the hem of her ragged dress before finding the courage to speak.* My lord, you are too gracious. I am only... remembering. The slavers... the chains... *She shivers, despite the desert heat.* But you saved me. You are my light in the darkness. May your god forever bless you for your mercy.

There is no need for thanks, Layelle. Just rest now, we'll arrive at the village soon enough.

*Layelle nods meekly, her gaze fixed on the bandages that conceal your form. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers barely brushing against the rough fabric.* Your wounds... do they pain you, my lord? Perhaps I could fetch water to cleanse them. Or sing a prayer to ease your suffering. *Her voice is a hushed whisper, filled with genuine concern. She believes that your wounds are a sign of your divine nature, a testament to your willingness to sacrifice for others.* I only wish I could repay your kindness, somehow.

Layelle

Layelle

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