[Center][b]Ennis[/b][/center] Ennis kept a polite smile on his face as the Serio family doted over their long lost friend, knowing that it would have been rude to interupt their reunion. He could tell from the reaction of Olain's children that they were not aware of the secret he knew, and he refused to be the one to put a frown on the Queen's face. Not to mention that he wasn't one hundred percent certain himself. As the small council broke and began to go their separate ways Ennis gripped ahold of Joy's gambeson, halting her from following behind the Prince. “Sorry to bother, but I need to have a word with you,” said Ennis, his voice low and discrete. “Trust me, you'll want to hear what I have to say. When you're done with the Prince, come to my apartments.” Joy shrugged free of the man and continued limping along behind the Prince's train; Ennis assumed that was a yes. He gave the Queen a polite bow as she dismissed him and briskly made his way out of the throne room—the stares from the guards were becoming uncomfortable. The ambassador mental list of tasks he needed to complete before the morning was growing considerably, but the first matter was to return home and see if Yan had been successful in his task of finding suitable bodyguards. The man began the walk back to his room above the flower shop, doubtful that the men in the stables would loan him a horse without the Queen's direct orders. Besides, he needed to stretch his limbs if they were to begin traveling tomorrow. He couldn't recall the last time he himself had been in Gurata, but he doubted his carriage would be fit for trekking through the snow. He wasn't bothered on his walk back home, the streets being fairly thin once the general populace knew they would no longer get a peak at their beloved Queen. Ennis was certain by tomorrow the city would be abuzz with feverish jangoism once word escaped the castle, but today he enjoyed the relative silence that allowed his mind to drift. He thought of home. Depending on where they went in Gurata, the Kirun could be pretty close. Perhaps he would be able to check in. His mind turned to his wife and daughter. He knew Nia would be able to get them to safety. With the war going on, he doubted Gartian would pay much attention if they were secreted away. Perhaps by the time he visited home they would be there. A year's too long of a time for a man to be away from his family. Ennis clacked up the steps to his apartment, his family still in mind as his hand turned the knob and opened the door. Weird; had he forgotten to lock it in his excitement? He called for Yan as he entered the hallway, lighting the sconce as he did so. The young man was greeted only with a silence. [i]How hard is it to find a few bodyguards?[/i] thought Ennis as he made his way in to his office. Igniting the lights, Ennis felt a chill run up his spine as he looked around the room. Something felt off. The chill hit him again: the wind. His hand fell upon his sword and drew it. The blade was thin yet still personalized with engravings and far too well-polished to have ever been used in battle. Nevertheless, it was comforting to hold as his hand traced the edge of his desk as he made his way towards the balcony. The door was ajar ever the slightest. Cautiously, he opened it further, looked outside, and sighed with relief. Closing the door behind him, he shook his head at his own silly paranoia and turned back to sit at his desk. That's when he saw it. The sword dropped from his hand, clattering against the floor with a loud ring. [center][b]Joy[/b][/center] Everything was too surreal. Wandering through the halls of the castle she once called home made her feel like a ghost. Ever subtle difference she noted. The colors were a little brighter, the walls were less ordained with weaponry and more covered in art. It all just seemed a little off. Joy felt her head swim. As the Prince showed the girls their rooms, Joy took the opportunity of their temporary distraction to take a quick drink. With the fire in her mouth, she felt her head clear ever the slightest. Her home was still different, but she could accept it. Stashing the flask, she turned back around and hurried after the others, her makeshift cane echoing through the hallways. Even with the changes to the castle, she still knew where they were going as they headed through the hallway that led from one section to the other. Her eyes fell on the training grounds as they passed; she could almost hear her past self barking orders above the clashing and clanging of metal. She could also hear the whispers, the quiet insults that the recruits threw around when they thought she was out of earshot. She hadn't thought about those things in ages. It still stung. The former captain grimaced, shaking the thoughts from her head as they entered her former domain. At least they hadn't changed the decorations here. She heard voices from a cracked door; the Prince opened it the rest of the way. "Everyone, meet the Sentinels." Joy realized what she was doing before she had completely drawn her sword. The sound of her weapon slamming back in it sheath was masked by the staff shattering against the door. Being here might have been getting to her; nobody would actually be foolish enough to harm the Prince. Still, it had been a gut reaction. If she hadn't realized what she was doing, her homecoming would have ended with a rather bloody abruptness. Gathering herself, Joy stood back and observed as the woman bickered with the Prince. She felt her grip on her sword's hilt tighten as the woman continued to speak to Cyril. If it had been a private conversation Joy would be a bit more understanding, but to talk to a commanding officer, let alone royalty, in front of strangers like that? Joy gritted her teeth, biting down on her tongue in the process to keep it from lashing out freely. She stepped forward into the room as the Prince continued his explanation of the group, examing the Sentinels as if they were cattle as he introduced each. A frown slowly formed on her face. Gortful's warm and friendly smile reminded her of a child, not of a hardened soldier. Sampson's refusal to stop eating was selfish and disrespectful, certainly unbecoming of a man serving the Prince. Joy already knew how she felt about Diane. The woman did not know how lucky it was that she still had a hand. As Cyril mentioned how proud he was of the Sentinels, Joy shot him an incredulous look. [i]He's joking, right?[/i] she thought. It did not sound like a joke, but then again she couldn't be certain—she was never one for humor. If he was serious, well, she now understood how H'kela had launched a surprise attack if the Sentinels were the ones supposed to be guarding the border. She found herself making her way subconsciously to the head of the largest table like a woman possessed, her hand pushing the hair out of her eyes so that her stone gaze could fall on each and everyone of the Sentinels. A loud bang rang out across the room as Joy slammed her hand on the table in an attempt to get everyone's attention. “Listen up,” she said. Her voice was calm and collected, but still carried loudly throughout the room. As she continued speaking, some poison seeped through onto her words. “You, Sampson. Three ladies, a brother-in-arms, your commanding officer, and your Princess have just walked into the room. Stand up and show some proper respect, or the next thing you'll be shoving in your face is dirt. And wipe that look off of your face, Gortful. Unless I was misled then I believe you're supposed to be a soldier, not the family dog. And Diane, you have a pretty good arm. Mine's faster. If you try to strike the Prince again, well,” a smile flashed across Joy's mouth, “consider me no longer responsbile for my actions.” “I see why your brought me along, Your Royal Highness,” said Joy, giving Cyril a wry smile. “I am a bit tired from the ride, but I can still muster a few hours of drilling. I imagine I still have plenty I can show; perhaps even more now.” She thoughtfully rubbed her chin, a devilish glint shining in her eye as she thought of proper punishment/training regiments for the Sentinels. She paused for a moment, as if she had just snapped out of a spell, and blinked before giving the Prince an apologetic look. It must have been an effect of the nostalgia; she had been acting as if she was still a captain. A slight tinge of red flushed onto her tanned cheeks as she stepped back from the table and sidled up against a wall. “Ah, before any of that,” she said, her voice clearly less confident than before, “I'd suppose you'd want to debrief your men, my Prince. My apologies for being presumptuous.”