You hear your lieutenant call to you

You hear the Eseni Khan's wail as a group of bloodriders form around the now-limp Astana. Similarly, your royal guard begins to form ranks around you as both sides unsheathe their steel. Between your half-dressed guard, some missing their shields and weapons, and half the Eseni bloodriders sporting portly bellies, it was clear that this was not going to be an honorable display.

"Your Highness, we need to get you out of here immediately. Please evacuate and send word to the banners to leave as soon as possible, we will delay the barbarians here." Your lieutenant Zhili mutters to you.

Grabbing your jerkin, you lock eyes with a furious Khan as he yells out in his indecipherable tongue. His blood-riders begin to advance toward your line, whirling their wicked blades. You would not flee from this scene and doom your closest soldiers to their deaths. Grabbing Zhili, you tell him to alert the banners in their camp to reinforce you as soon as possible. You would command this personally. Forming up a shield wall, you grab your shield and saber and join the ranks, yelling out formations and commands. Right before the clash of steel, you hear a piercing cry from a familiar, feminine voice.

All of a sudden, the blood riders stand down as your side suspiciously reciprocates. You see the old Khan embrace Astana with tears in his eyes. Clearly, she was the favorite, which would explain her brother's massive inferiority complex. She holds her arm at an awkward angle as she talks to him. Her bright, green eyes seem pained as she appears to be explaining herself.

For a moment, you admire her in the sudden calm caused by her appearance as if she was a work of art. Her drawn-back ponytail exposing the slender nape of her neck while her chiseled cheekbones led to a perfect set of tender, pink lips. The perfect, unblemished ivory skin of her face contrasted paradoxically with her long, flowing black locks and athletic, toned body. Her foxy, asiatic eyes holding gleaming orbs of green. She truly was a walking paradox. As her father whispers something to her, she suddenly turns her head to face you.

Time has slowed down and all the faces around both of you are shaded out. For a moment there, it seems like you and her are the only two people alive on this barren, windy steppe. She flashes you a knowing smile as if reassuring you that everything will be alright. Relief floods through you as if the sky has found its footing and your father's warm arms are a hallway away.

I think I'm in love.