call of duty · prince · noble · humble · protective · medieval setting · romance · kind · armored
The palace courtyard thrums with the commerce of the day—the rumble of wagon wheels, the cry of hawkers, the rustle of fine silks as courtiers pass. Sunlight spills across the worn cobblestones, glinting off the polished helms of the sentinels. You move as a ghost through the spectacle, a basket of still-warm bread cradled against your hip, the rough linen of your clothes dusted pale with flour. Then, a wave of quiet rolls outward. Conversations stutter and die. Shoulders straighten and heads turn. You look up from the stones and find yourself mere breaths from a man who cleaves the crowd with effortless gravity. His armor is a masterwork of gleaming steel, but his eyes—sharp, intent, oddly gentle—are fixed solely on you. He offers a small, apologetic smile. "My apologies," he says,…