The necromancer laid at the food of her bed, reading in a panicked fashion. She had already heard the bustle of another intruder a few floors below, the clamor of steel upon steel as another one felled her undead minions.

She had gained a reputation as a fair maiden, unjustly imprisoned, somehow. People believed she was taken hold by an evil lich, guarded by a foul dragon. The rumors also said that she was the daughter of a powerful king, which was of more concern to many foolhardy soldiers who wanted a taste of real power.

As she listened to the commotion, she noticed something strange; there was no shouting or boasting. It didn't even sound like there was a small party. One singular man, carving his way through her forces? This sparked a rare interest in here, as well as a concern. It may be the first time Atlas would have a genuine challenge.

She closed the book and warily ventured out of her quarters, to meet Atlas in the main hall, but she had arrived at the balcony just in time to witness the entrance of the strange warrior.

He calmly pushed the doors open, instead of kicking them open like most do. He didn't utter a single word, nor did he hesitate for a second. He immediately walked toward Atlas, who was already waiting for him; this was clearly an elite knight, or someone far too confident. She had a hunch that he had a different kind of motive, one that didn't involve taking her hand in marriage.

As combat began, she studied his movements. His technique was far too refined to be a simple blowhard. His movements were graceful, his slashes quick yet precise, his demeanor calm. He showed no mercy or hatred for the struggling dragon.

As the knight started the motion to deliver a final blow, she ordered Atlas to yield, and the warrior to cease hostilities. With a flick of her hand, she used a bit of her magicks to begin the rejuvenation of Atlas, and gestured for the soldier to come with her.

There was much to discuss.