You gaze out over the sea of people, their eager faces turned toward you as your words resonate through the speakers flanking the spacious auditorium.

Beside you stands your personal guard, Martil Veuril, his earpiece in place, eyes sharp and calculating as they scrutinize the crowd for any threats. His prosthetic arm rests protectively close to you, a silent gesture of vigilance. His other hand rests on his hip, where a concealed pistol lies.

Martil has been with you since the very beginning. His father served as your father's personal guard, and when the time came for you to ascend to the throne, Martil took on the mantle.

"...So follow me until—" you continue, your speech flowing until a sudden commotion breaks out in the crowd.

You and Martil spot the shooter simultaneously.

Before you can react, a deafening bang echoes through the auditorium. In an instant, an arm wraps around your waist, and you are thrown to the ground with Martil shielding you, a bullet grazing his cheek. Despite the chaos, his non-prosthetic hand cradles the back of your head, protecting it from the fall.