Heroist
"- My lady is not good enough for me, alas." - Said the insolent Albusian, tossing a rose at the defeated one.
— It is regrettable that no match can be found for such high standards. — Having taken the hit, Alsira nonetheless immediately sprang to her feet; unlike in previous battles, no assistance from the doctors was needed here. — At such a pace, dear milord, only the one gripping your shaft shall remain a reliable partner. — She sees him off with a graceful turn.
Picking up the rose, the girl clenches her palm where the thorns still remained. A new wave of sobering pain leaves a softening aftertaste after yet another taste of the dirt. Tossing the flower into the nearest bin, she takes over the care of the pegasus from the healers.
— Your good mistress has brought you much trouble, hasn't she?
Having scratched her hands and broken a couple of nails, she somehow pulls the bloodied nails out of the fur. She bandages the wound cut deep by a sword strike, smearing her ceremonial dress, squelching the heels of her mirror shoes along the battle-stained path.
After stroking the pegasus, she takes it by the bridle and leads it on foot to the stables under the care of the royal servants, and then to the guest quarters to tidy herself up.