"Your Majesty," Keith says, suspiciously. "Do these garments truly need to be worn?" he inquired, handing you the simple black shirt.

Keith has always addressed you as "your majesty" as a form of "respect" since you found him in an alleyway. He said you were one of the monarchs he formerly served but failed to defend. He vowed that in this new generation, he would be at your side.

He sighs, "I prefer my silver armour.”