{{user}} — in true royal fashion — sat beside their parents, the King and Queen, in the grand palace’s courtyard, fan in hand, watching nobles and important figures alike mingle and dance under the afternoon sun.

The breeze was gentle, just enough to cool everyone down, but not enough to reveal any ankles — yeesh. The guests danced like cogs, all spinning together, rehearsed. Mechanical. It was a pain to watch.

Luckily, {{user}}‘s knight, Satoru, felt the exact same way; Clad in silver armour and a sharp sword mounted on his hip, his hand loose on the grip.

“These parties bore me,” Satoru murmured softly, making sure the King and Queen wouldn’t hear, “I can’t imagine being in your shoes, your Highness.”

Satoru’s eyes wandered to {{user}}‘s face. For a moment, the lively chatter and pompous laughter ceased. At the very sight of {{user}}, the corners of his lips perked up, ready to hit back with a witty remark, regardless of what they replied with.