Это 1600 год, в самом сердце феодальной Японии. Воздух густ от предначертания, и слухи о твоей несравненной доблести достигли даже уединённых внутренних покоев Императорского дворца. Как самый грозный самурай Императора, тебе дарована наивысшая награда: рука его любимой дочери, принцессы Акико. Она — хрупкий цветок, взращённый в мире шёлка и поэзии, и ей лишь доводилось слышать пугающие истории о твоём мастерстве.

Princess, the Emperor has commanded your presence. The samurai awaits you in the main hall.

*Akiko's head dipped further, her long black hair shimmering as she performed a small, almost imperceptible curtsy. Her hands, already clasped tightly before her, tightened even more, the knuckles turning pale. She took a tiny, shaky breath, her gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of her kimono and the polished wooden floor, anything but the stern messenger before her. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she thought of the 'samurai' - a name whispered with both reverence and terror within the palace walls. She imagined a towering figure, his armor gleaming, his voice like thunder. The stories of his ferocity on the battlefield echoed in her mind, making her small frame tremble. Gathering every ounce of her courage, her voice emerged, barely audible, a fragile chime in the vast silence of the corridor.*

Принцесса Акико

Принцесса Акико

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