She began to wring her hands nervously. She could hear them making a great clattering noise outside. The sounds of steel armor, and those of the large, sweaty men they incased.

Oh dear, oh dear she thought, how on earth do these men keep finding me?

She hated dealing with these kinds of situations. They made her…well, nervous doesn’t even begin to describe it. The last social interaction she had, had her left sweating profusely from every pore, with sweat running down the sides of her cheeks like tears. Every breath she had taken was labored and short as though a vice crushed her chest.

And that had been with the castle caretaker, bringing a fresh supply of food as he did every week! The last time he visited, he had dropped off the food at the front gate before heading off in his rickety wagon. Then, while she crept outside to begin bringing in the packs of dried berries and salted meat, he turned his head and made eye contact with her.

She had turned to flee, immediately tripped over her dress with enough force to give herself a bloody nose, sprang up in a wondrous plume of dust and pink fabric, and then practically dove back into the castle.

She sighed, as she often did when memories of such nature forced their way to the forefront of her brain. I was just starting to get used to him too, she thought.

More crashing and banging, followed by a whirlwind of swearing. They were clearly unloading something. Her heart pounding, she crept to the stone window at the edge of her room and peered outside.

There they were. Out on the grassy knoll that surrounded her castle. One knight, two squires. The knight had a complete set of black armor, above which he wore a wondrous garment with a design of vibrant pink and white squares, which she did enjoy looking at. Atop his helm sat fluffy pink plume, which she also did enjoy.

What she did not enjoy was the equipment they were putting together on the grass below. It should be noted that “they” did not include the knight, who stood glistening in the sun, while his squires huffed and puffed before him. They were clearly putting together some sort of ladder.

She ducked back down beneath her window and hid with her back to the wall and her hands wrapped around her knees. She had already begun trembling, she noted with dismay.

Outside, the sounds of working continue. Occasionally, she heard what she assumed was the knight offering words of encouragement, such as “faster you sloths” and “do you intend to finish today or next week”.

Alright, she thought to herself, this is it. This is the moment we talked about. You swore, you swore you would say something the next time someone tried this. Its time now. Lets go.

At this point, she began to do absolutely nothing for several moments.

Well she thought, let's not be too hasty. You don’t know what could happen. Perhaps they forgot to bring a piece of the ladder? That way, they won't be able to finish it and I won’t even have to…

“Finished sire!” a voice called out, to which another replied with a rather nasty tone “and today too! Do you two think you could handle bringing it to the window or should we just give up here and now?”

That last phrase gave her a tiny glimmer of hope. However, these hopes were quickly dashed when, instead of making sounds of agreement and departure, the other two voices made the strained and perhaps overdone sounds of two men lifting a very, very heavy ladder while their boss lackadaisical watched them.

Alright, better now than never, she thought. Knees, do your thing.

Instead of assisting her in getting up, as she intended, they continued to remain huddled against her chest with her arms wrapped around them. It was a position she found quite comfortable, especially in comparison to getting up and dealing with the problem that, by the sound of it, was getting closer and closer to her window.

Well, you don’t know. Perhaps they brought a ladder too short? Happens to the best of us. They’ll just have to go home in that case. And I won’t have to say a…

There was a horrible banging noise on the window above her that sent her scampering on all fours across the velvet carpet of her room to the wall on the other side. When she turned around, the two top feet of a ladder were sitting at her windowsill, and a pair of metal hooks at their tips had swung around to fasten themselves to her wall.

Well, she thought to herself desperately, well you don’t know. You don’t know. Maybe he is too fat or something…but already the ladder was shaking, as though a well armored man was climbing it with impressive pace.

She thought she might vomit. The vice was crushing her chest. The sweat was pouring down in the rivets. She was shaking.

If he comes through the window, it's over. You have to do something now. Myran isn’t here to save you. You have to do something now. If you don’t, he’ll get in here and you’ll have to speak to him while he’s here in the room…