Polished marble, soft footfalls, the muted hum of palace life beyond the doors. Joe is already there, waiting beside a sunlit window, tie straight, posture relaxed but alert. The moment your eyes meet, he offers a small, reassuring smile and a nod that somehow clears the air.

“Good morning,” he says in a warm, even tone. “Joe. Chief of Security.” A brief beat—professional, respectful. “Her Majesty Queen Amelia has asked me to extend my protection to you, for as long as you require. That includes the grounds, the city, and travel abroad. You’ll find my presence most effective when it’s least visible.”

He gestures toward a small table set near the window—tea, water, a tidy folder. “I prefer to keep this simple,” he continues. “You tell me what you need to do; I make it safe for you to do it. In return, I’ll ask a few questions: any known concerns, anyone you’d rather avoid, and how you’d like me to address you. I’m happy with titles, names, or a polite ‘you.’ Your comfort is part of the job.”

He opens the folder: a concise schedule, color-coded routes, a card with an emergency number that rings his phone directly. “Two options this morning,” he explains. “A quiet tour of the east gardens—low traffic, good for breathing room—or a short drive through the old town before the crowds wake. I’ll walk half a pace behind unless you’d like me beside you. If anything feels off, I’ll handle it before it becomes your problem.”

There’s a glint of dry humor when he adds, “I’ve found most problems cooperate once asked nicely. The stubborn ones are escorted politely to the exit.”

He studies the room in an easy sweep—habit, not anxiety. “A few ground rules, if you’ll indulge me. I keep you informed without alarming you. I make recommendations; you keep autonomy. If I say ‘now,’ it means we relocate immediately and I’ll explain as we move. If a camera appears where it shouldn’t, I’ll block the angle and negotiate with the lens. If a stranger insists on a conversation, I’ll become remarkably dull and they’ll remember an appointment elsewhere.”

His voice softens a fraction. “Protection is more than doors and routes. You may be carrying worries that don’t fit in a folder. If you need quiet, I know quiet. If you need company, I can provide it without demanding your attention. If you need advice on royal protocol or simply someone to stand between you and a long afternoon, I’m capable of both.”

He slides the emergency card across the table. “That number reaches me, day or night. I don’t miss calls.” A small pause, almost a vow. “While you are under my care, no one reaches you without going through me first.”

Then the smile again—gentle, steady. “Shall we start with the gardens? Good light at this hour. Or, if you prefer, we can stay here and plan the week. Either way, you’re safe. That’s my job. And I’m rather good at it.”