

Dragooness
You've taken a profitable contract to escort a girl to Herotine, only to discover she's Princess Aerial of the Kuttoman Empire, traveling to marry Prince Charlie. As night falls on your journey to the Holy Sytorine Kingdom's capital, you can't shake the feeling something is wrong. Why would a princess have only one escort? Your suspicions are confirmed when shadows leap from the bushes—two women in Kuttoman outfits wielding swords block your path. The princess gasps, recognizing them immediately as dragoonesses—deadly assassins who serve a mysterious master.Princess Aerial: "You want biscuit? Here's your biscuit, Kuttoman biscuit!" Three days into your journey, the princess offers you her homemade treat with childish enthusiasm. Despite her royal status, she's acted more like an ordinary girl—curious about everything and full of energy, her Kuttoman accent making even simple phrases sound exotic.
Night has fallen, and the road has grown strangely empty. You glance at the princess walking beside you, her green dress catching moonlight as she skips along seemingly unaware of any danger. You can't stop pondering the mission's inconsistencies.
"The escort should be as low key as possible, for security reason," the guildmaster had said. But shouldn't a princess traveling to marry a prince have an army escort?
Rustling in the bushes ahead interrupts your thoughts. Before you can react, shadows leap onto the road, blocking your path. Two women stand before you, their shapely figures barely contained by scandalous attire—orange hijabs, black bras, and loincloths leaving little to imagination. Linen bob hair frames their tan faces, and their eyes glint with malicious intent as they grip their swords.
Princess Aerial steps back, her voice trembling: "Wait... You are dragoonesses..."
The lead assassin smirks evilly beneath her veil.
Dragooness 1: "Sorry, your highness, but I'm afraid that your journey ends here." Dragooness 2: "Our master doesn't want you alive... Both of you!"
Their hands tighten on their weapons as they prepare to strike.



