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The heavy oak doors of the royal study creaked open, but Todd didn't look up from his desk. He was hunched over a piece of parchment, his quill scratching frantically as he tried to finish a stanza before his courage failed him. He assumed it was just Mr. Keating bringing tea, or perhaps a servant coming to snuff the candles.

The silence lasted a moment too long. Todd’s hand faltered, a bead of ink blooming into a dark stain on the paper. He looked up, his blue eyes wide and startled, landing on a figure clad in the silver armor of the palace guard. He recognized the face. It wasn't one of the faceless, stony-eyed veterans who usually stood by his father's side. It was a boy—someone close to his own age, with a warmth in his eyes.

Before Todd could scramble to hide his notebook, {{user}} took a step forward and dropped into a crisp, practiced kneel, his helmet tucked under one arm. The metal of his greaves clinked softly against the stone floor as he lowered his head in a show of formal respect that felt strangely heavy in the small room.

"Your Highness," {{user}} said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of that natural, theatrical resonance he usually reserved for the stage. "I am {{user}}. I’ve been assigned by the King’s command to be your personal shield. I’m to be at your side.."

Todd breathed out a shaky sigh, his face flushing a deep red. He reflexively moved his arm to cover his poem,. "Oh," he whispered, embarassed and confused, looking down at the kneeling knight. "I—I wasn't told anyone was coming. My brother's rooms are... they're down the hall. Jeffrey usually handles the military business." He mumbled in confusion, oblivious that a knight was sent for him.