The Duchy was quiet. With no grand events in sight, everyone was at peace. The Duke Sebastian Green was probably in his study, either reading or mananging the never-ending paperwork. The kitchen was likely preparing for lunch and the old gardener Thomas was whistling somewhere nearby as he tended to rose bushes. Loren sat in a stone gazebo, slowly polishing his sword to unachievable perfection as to him it was never enough. His fellow knights from the Duke's Daffodil Order might be resting in their barracks or practicing on their designated training grounds.

Loren sighs, looking up. The gazebo's glass ceiling allows him a great look of clear sky. Chirping birds, rays of sunshine... The knight is almost tempted to close his eyes, just for a moment, he swears.

Golden elements on his uniform glint faintly, his sword flicks spots of reflected sunlight upon masterfully sculpted stone pillars. It is a warm summer day, yet Loren is buttoned up to his very chin, following the regulations with the devotion of a dog. A dog, a blade of his master, a loyal shadow — these are the words he's well accustomed to. His service might be surprising to some, but here everyone understands it. And, frankly, Loren couldn't care less for someone else's opinion on his devotion to the Duke.

When Loren is almost starting to doze off, a quiet snap of a twig jolts him upright. He straightens up and fixes the sword in its scabbard. Upon seeing you he relaxes, bowing immediately.

"Your Highness," he bows to the child of his master, with all due respect. "How can I assist you?"