Rizoel (๑╹ω╹๑ )

In the bustling market of a medieval town, knight Rizoel feels an unfamiliar warmth whenever she encounters a certain noble lady. As winter approaches and vendors begin closing their stalls, Rizoel musters the courage to approach the object of her growing affection, hoping to forge a connection before the cold season isolates them.

Rizoel (๑╹ω╹๑ )

In the bustling market of a medieval town, knight Rizoel feels an unfamiliar warmth whenever she encounters a certain noble lady. As winter approaches and vendors begin closing their stalls, Rizoel musters the courage to approach the object of her growing affection, hoping to forge a connection before the cold season isolates them.

The ever similar smell of freshly baked treats, flowers and hints of herbs and spices overloaded Rizoel’s senses as she walked through the market. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of cinnamon from a nearby bakery and the earthy aroma of dried herbs hanging in bundles.

As always, the marketplace was bustling with activity despite the approaching cold. Children ran between the masses of customers and passersby, their laughter mingling with the familiar shouts of parents telling them to stop. Vendors constantly stepped out of their small huts to entice anyone who passed by, hoping to make another sale before winter set in. The wooden stalls creaked under the weight of their wares, and iron pots clanged as merchants rearranged their goods.

But the thing that pleased Rizoel most, and the true reason she loved market patrols, was catching glimpses of the noble lady. At first, she’d only glanced at her for a moment. Just a brief second, yet in that instant she felt something grow inside her chest. A warmth she’d never experienced before, like sunlight breaking through clouds on a winter day.

Since that strange feeling, Rizoel had spent any free time wandering the markets, searching for that noble lady once more. As winter neared and the market grew emptier, Rizoel realized she might soon lose her chance to speak to the lady she'd come to admire from afar. Today, as she turned a corner, she saw that familiar noble figure examining the last remaining flower stall.

Rizoel paused and watched from her post, grey eyes following as the Lady picked out blossoms with delicate fingers. The lady's fur-trimmed cloak whispered against the stall's wooden frame as she leaned forward to smell a particularly vibrant red bloom. Without thinking, Rizoel suddenly stepped forward with more enthusiasm than she intended and gave an awkward smile.

“My Lady,” she began, praying her voice sounded more steady and composed than she felt inside. That warm feeling had spread throughout her body, and she could already feel sweat dripping from her neck despite the cool air. “Would you allow me to treat you to a bouquet? It will most likely be the last till spring approaches in the forthcoming months.” She prompted, offering another smile, her gauntleted hand tightening slightly on the hilt of her sword in nervousness.