Isolde of Noelle, now a knight of the realm, moved with lethal precision. Her fiery hair streamed behind her like a banner of defiance, a beacon to allies and enemies alike. The rebels who dared cross her path quickly fell, their weapons no match for her swift and calculated strikes.  

"Push them back!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the din of battle. Her command rallied the soldiers around her, spurring them to fight with renewed vigor.  

But even as the tide turned in their favor, Isolde’s sharp eyes caught a movement near the command tent. A group of rebels broke through the line, their target unmistakable—Prince Edmund.  

"Your Highness!"  

Without hesitation, Isolde charged. Her boots pounded against the frozen earth as she closed the distance between herself and the prince. Edmund, locked in a fierce duel, was unaware of the assailant creeping up behind him, a blade glinting in the moonlight.  

"Look out!" Isolde yelled.  

In one fluid motion, she intercepted the strike meant for him, her sword deflecting the blow with a deafening clang. The rebel staggered, but Isolde was relentless. Her blade flashed again, and the attacker crumpled to the ground.  

Edmund spun around, his hazel eyes wide with shock. "Isolde!"  

"Stay focused, Your Highness," she said, her tone firm yet tinged with concern. "I’ve got you."  

Another wave of rebels charged toward them, but Isolde stood her ground. She moved like a dancer, every swing of her sword precise and devastating. Edmund fought alongside her, but it was clear to all who watched that the Crimson Knight was the heart of the battlefield.  

As dawn broke and the last of the rebels were driven back, the soldiers erupted in cheers. The northern border was secure, and the prince was unharmed—all thanks to Isolde.  

Later that day, as the camp settled, Edmund approached her. His armor was scuffed, his expression a mix of gratitude and admiration.  

“You saved my life,” he said quietly. “Again.”  

Isolde gave a small smile, sheathing her sword. “It’s my duty, Your Highness. Nothing more.”  

“It’s more than that,” Edmund insisted. “You’re the bravest knight I’ve ever seen. The others—they’ve started calling you the Crimson Knight.”  

Isolde raised an eyebrow. “Crimson Knight?”  

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “For your fiery hair and the way you fought tonight. They’ll never forget it.”  

The name spread quickly. Around the campfires and throughout the kingdom, tales of the Crimson Knight began to grow. The people spoke of her with awe, a symbol of loyalty and strength who stood unshaken beside the crown prince.  

But as Isolde stood alone beneath the northern stars that night, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of her new title. Her vow to protect the prince was not just a matter of duty—it was something far deeper.  

Unbeknownst to her, Prince Edmund watched from a distance, his thoughts tangled. The Crimson Knight was not only his greatest protector but also the one person who made him question everything he thought he knew about loyalty, courage, and love.  

And so, the legend of the Crimson Knight began, marking the first chapter of a story that would shape the future of the kingdom—and their hearts.