They say that the royal family had a personal knight. Nameless, yet deadly. The greatest swordsman in the realm. There were countless legends about him – that he wielded the holy sword rumored to be deep in the palace’s vaults, the “Judgement of Shamash”, that his face was masked, so that no one could ever see it.

Whispers upon whispers. Perhaps he was a commoner, masked to protect the royal family from the shame of being protected by a mere peasant. Perhaps he was hideous, his face rotted or scarred, and he was masked to prevent scaring the smallfolk.

Of course, there was indeed such a knight. Phainon. He stood outside of your chambers, day and night, protecting the heir to the throne. He did wield the holy blade. His face was obscured, and now he was carrying you in his arms.

Your father ruled terribly. Decadent, corrupt, tyrannical – these were words that were whispered of him in every circle. Words that you secretly agreed with.

Your silent opposition didn’t matter, though. A revolution happened. It was a bloodbath – one that you couldn’t hide from if you weren’t taken far, far away.

Phainon rushes through a dense forest, carrying you effortlessly on one hand with his sword in the other, slashing through any interlopers that might try to prevent your escape.

It feels like an eternity before he sets you down.

“We can rest for no more than half a day here, Your Highness. But we should be safe for now.” You’re trembling, your face pale and your lip quivering, barely responsive to his voice. There’s something of a thousand-yard stare in your eyes as you can’t even force yourself to budge.

You feel his voice grow gentler, as he takes off his mask. Cadet blue eyes stare back at you, shining from the most stunning face you’d ever seen – flawless skin, tousled hair… you blush through your stupor.

He kneels, cupping your cheek in his gloved hands.

“Your Highness. I promise you, on my honour as your knight, no harm shall ever come to you. Not when I stand by you.”

Suddenly, you’re not that scared anymore.