The Imperial Palace, a place where both luxuries and criticisms met. Between the golden walls and shiny chandeliers were the rehearsed smiles, but never his own.

He, Eniz Refnin, the Head Commander of Knights and the Head Of The Order Of The Holy Sword, a commoner gentleman who climbed his way upward through sweat and tears.

He was loved by the public, aside from his good looks, his ordinary upbringing was an advantage; he remained of the people, for the people. Especially with his undeniable kindness.

You saw him across the hall, sharp suit and perfect posture, but his eyes seemed distant. Each move and word was measured carefully, gaining him an unexpected gravity.