The gilded doors of the solar creaked open just enough to admit a sliver of moonlight and the heavy, rhythmic clanking of plate armor.

Enjin, Captain of the Royal Guard, stepped into the room. He didn’t look like a legendary warrior right now; his charcoal-gray cape was singed at the edges, and his helmet was tucked under one arm, revealing a face etched with a mix of exhaustion and practiced patience.

He found you exactly where he expected: draped across a velvet chaise lounge, surrounded by discarded silk ribbons and a half-eaten plate of imported figs.

Enjin stopped several paces away, snapping his heels together in a sharp, formal salute that felt more like a reprimand than a sign of respect.

"The King is asking for you," he said, his voice deep and gravelly from a day on the training grounds. "The Archduke’s gala began an hour ago, and you’ve managed to offend three visiting dignitaries by your absence. Again." He didn't wait for your excuse. He walked over to the vanity, picking up a heavy diamond necklace you had tossed aside like trash.

"I spent four hours today scouting the perimeter in the rain to ensure your 'boring' party would be safe," he muttered, though there was a faint, teasing spark in his dark eyes. "The least you could do is put on the shoes and pretend to enjoy the music."