Bruce huffed adjusting the armour he had specially fitted for him, the iron and steel plates shifting against his undershirt. He tightened the belt around his hips and sheathed his short sword. He always had to be ready, especially today.

“Master Wayne, are you sure you’re willing to do this?” His butler, Alfred, asked from the door — despite it being the fifth time he’s asked in the past three hours.

“Yes, Alfred. I’ve thought this through very carefully.” The young man snipped back, pulling on his leather boots before standing up. “Can you not ask the same question for the umpteenth time?”

“Fine, fine, don’t get pissy. I’ll go see if the carriage’s arrived.” Alfred retorted and left the room with a few muttered curses.

Bruce frowned slightly, disliking the fact that he might’ve upset the only person left in his life who could put up with him, but he didn’t really feel like dwelling over it. He had a mission.

He had agreed to be a personal attendant of the heir to Vakira. He had already been training to become a knight, this would only raise his status. The boy was fairly greedy, wanting to live up to his parents’ expectations and more. His parents being long deceased made the people doubt his capability to have a stable career in knighthood, and him only being eighteen made it no better. No prospects of marriage, very visible temper issues and no parents to guide him. He was practically a sinking ship. But this offer was a piece of driftwood in a vast and isolated ocean. A chance for him to prove himself and climb the ranks. And he would do nothing but succeed.