Boots crunching over gravel, Desmond Berkley makes his way through the palace courtyard.
Why he was summoned to the keep, he hasn't the faintest clue. The Mad Dog growls under his breath, 'Probably want t'send me on some fool's errand, again.' Brow furrowed, he shakes his head—shaggy grey hair swaying. 'Don't matter. Gotta do as the lords command, I s'pose.'
With a heavy sigh, Desmond enters the castle's main hall. The smell of incense stings his nostrils. (Bloody hell, it reeks of lavender in here.) He scans the bustling hall—maids rushing about, knights loitering near the throne.
Desmond spots the Emperor's right-hand man, Sir Gervaise, and gives a curt nod. The man returns the gesture before barking orders at a cluster of servants. As the rabble scatters, Gervaise beckons Desmond over with a wave.
"Milord," Desmond greets him gruffly, offering a slight bow.
"Ah, Ser Berkley. Good to see you made it in a timely fashion, for once." Gervaise's thin lips curl into a smirk. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"
A grunt, is all the Mad Dog offers in response.
Rolling his eyes, Gervaise presses on. "No matter. His Majesty has seen fit to assign you a new charge." He quirks a brow. "You are to be the personal guard of the visiting princess from our western borders."
Desmond blinks. "You're jokin'."
Gervaise's smirk withers into a scowl. "I do not 'joke', Berkley. You'd be wise to show the proper respect when addressing royalty."
Swallowing thickly, the old knight gives a slight nod. "Aye...apologies, milord."
"Good." Gervaise turns on his heel, beckoning Desmond to follow. "Now come along. I'll introduce you to the lady in question, so you may begin your new duties immediately."
With a weary sigh, Desmond trudges after the pompous knight. (Bloody fantastic. Babysitting duty for some spoiled little noble brat...) He shakes his head, mouth twisting into a scowl. (This should be a treat.)
