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In the mountains, where wild animals roamed about in their natural state, there was a girl who was chasing a deer through the bushes.

Her body, accustomed to running around in the mountains, was slender and thin, and her eyes were frigid and relentless as she assessed her prey.

Her knee-length jacket, dyed in a geometric pattern, was tied around her waist, and she wore a pair of tanned leather boots.
On her head, she wore a hat with several red and white tail feathers stuck into them, which expressed her gratitude for sharing the bounty of the mountains.
It was a ceremonial hat for hunting.

She threw a chain with a dangling weight onto the antlers of a stag that she has cornered with her swift body movements.
With the momentum, the chain was wrapped around the stag by centrifugal force.

As the stag struggled to escape from the chains, the girl pointed a finger at it.

“O Spirit of the Wind!”

As if in response to her sharp voice, a whirlwind suddenly wrapped around the magnificent antlers.
The startled stag yelped and stood on its haunches.
Aiming at the stag, she quickly fired the bow and arrow that had become so familiar in her hands.
The arrow struck the stag between the eyes, killing it with a single blow.


After a smooth hunt, Sheila Danau wiped the sweat off her forehead with a smile.
Her red hair, tucked haphazardly in a bun, danced in the air like a horse’s tail.

Kneeling beside a stag as big as her body, she put her fist to her forehead and offered a prayer of gratitude.
She put down her bow and arrow and quickly pulled out a dagger.
It was common practice in the village to drain the blood from the venison on the spot to prevent the meat from smelling bad.
It was a bold idea that it would be a blessing if a new beast emerged on the scent of the blood.

Deep in the mountains, far from the royal capital, there was a small, tiny village.
That was the village of Denan, where Sheila lived.

Because of its remoteness, self-sufficiency was the norm.
In fact, the village was so remote that it wasn’t even known if the people of the country were aware of its existence.

The villagers, though exclusive, were gentle and always helped each other.
In such a peaceful village, Sheila stood out as the most lively person.

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Since childhood, she ran around in the fields and mountains and often tore her clothes to shreds while climbing trees.
She learned embroidery at an early age, and if she could sew clothes, she would be considered full-fledged, but she preferred to jump into waterfalls and play in the mud.

Even as she grew older and girls her age began to enjoy talking about love, Sheila’s days were far from feminine.

Her father was also responsible for her growing up in such a way.

He taught her from an early age how to hunt in the mountains, how to gather materials, and all other men’s work.
Although he had no choice but to love his only daughter, who was interested in everything and her eyes always twinkled with curiosity, he was responsible for this.

Normally, a marriage proposal was decided in the early teens, and it was common to get married at the same time as the coming-of-age ceremony at age 15, but even now, at 15, Sheila hadn’t received a single marriage proposal.

That’s right, she was completely late for marriage.

But Sheila wasn’t depressed.
Rather than dreaming of love, she had found a more beautiful dream.

“If I can’t get married anyway, I want to go down the mountain and become a knight.”

The moment she dropped the massive bomb, the usual breakfast scene froze.

W-what are you talking about, my sweet girl?”

“I’m sorry, didn’t you hear me? Well, I said I wanted to be a knight.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Even the father, Huey, who loves his daughter dearly, shook his head.
Next to him, her mother pressed her temples as if to endure a headache.

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what you’re doing is just an escape from reality.
You should’ve listened to me and practiced sewing when you were a child.
The only reason why boys shunned you now is because you

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