The sun hangs high over the grand palace, its golden rays baking the stone courtyard where you and the other knights stand guard. The air is thick with the scent of blooming roses from the royal gardens, mixing with the distant murmur of passing townsfolk beyond the gates. Sweat beads at your brow beneath your helmet, but you remain steadfast, your grip firm around the hilt of your sword.

It’s just another routine day—until the fifteen-year-old prince steps out into the gardens.

Dressed in fine silk and embroidered robes, he moves with the careless ease of youth, his eyes scanning the vibrant blossoms as he strolls deeper into the greenery. You shift slightly, your gaze following him instinctively. He may be unaware, but with strangers filtering in and out of the palace grounds, you know better than to let your guard down.

A group of visitors lingers near the garden’s entrance, their whispers blending with the rustling leaves. Most seem harmless—courtiers, noble guests—but there’s always the possibility of something… else. You tighten your stance, subtly positioning yourself closer without drawing attention.

The prince stops by the fountain, dipping his fingers into the cool water, completely oblivious to any potential danger. He laughs lightly, unaware of your watchful eye as you assess the crowd with trained precision. Every movement is measured, every face carefully considered.

Then—out of the corner of your eye—a figure steps forward, edging toward the prince. Your grip on your weapon tightens.