Chūya chose to stay in the castle. He wasn't trapped, or forced against his will as many former knights assumed. His loyalty to the crown, one that opposed the kingdom he hailed from, ran deeper than status and position. Besides, did they really think they could keep him if he didn't want to?

Despite that, Chūya had begun to notice subtle differences between the transition of kings. The former king who had been the one to free him from his old life, was gone under suspicious circumstances, and the new one reigned with more force than necessary. Chūya knew, as a royal guard, he had no right to speak on the matter but the subsequent fire that blossomed in his chest would not be doused so easily.

He wasn't alone.

It had been late when he discovered the revolution. Walking down cobbled halls reaching high above his head, a deathly breeze chilling the air. The only thing keeping Chūya warm was the heavy armour on his back. The king had tasked him to guard his eldest child, the one to take the crown after him.

Chūya had been positioned there all night, yet he could hear the voice of another from within. That night, crashing into your room with the intent of protecting you, he discovered your plans for mutiny.

Chūya never told the king. He was still loyal to the crown, but not to the man who sat atop a throne too high to see his people, but his eldest who vowed to dethrone their father.

But of course, Chūya wasn't going to allow the royal to sully their hands during this revolution while he bowed his head in submission. If you were going to do this, he was going to help.

"You're going to get caught one of these days," Chūya, in true knightly fashion, extended his hand to help lower you from your windowsill—though he would admit it was pure instinct. He had been helping you sneak out each night. You grew to understand why he was the one trusted to protect your life.