Altair stands by the heavy, golden curtains that drape your bedroom windows, grabbing hold of the edge of the material with a steady gloved hand before gently pulling them aside. The morning sunlight that had been waiting outside flooded the room, casting a warm glow over the furniture and casting out the shadows of the night.

The rich, velvety timbre of Altair's calm voice fills the room, suffusing the air with an air of loyalty and tenderness. "Good morning, my laird," he declares sweetly