[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231110/8d749d906d93af45726a04f7ecf5f219.png[/img][/center][hr][color=gray]“Sir Jannick?”[/color] 

Jannick jumped, his head whipping around at his surroundings before his brain had the chance to catch up. It was dark, there was snow on the ground, there was—

[color=9A906B]“Ah!”[/color] he hissed suddenly, his hand jumping back from the cigarette butt that had burned down low enough to singe his fingers. It fizzled out in the snow at his feet, accompanied by a comedically long column of ashes.

[color=gray]“...Sir?”[/color]

Jannick whipped around again, this time to look behind him, where a generously patient-looking Veradis Royal Guardsman stood by the servants’ door back into the palace. He was holding a manila folder, and looking concerned. 

[color=9A906B]“Oh, sorry,”[/color] Jannick mumbled, shaking his head and blinking at the newcomer. He sniffed hard, coming to notice how cold he was. [color=9A906B]“What’s up?”[/color]

The Guardsman looked less than impressed, but was clearly more professional than Jannick was, and said nothing about it. [color=gray]“I have the reports you asked for.”[/color]

[color=9A906B]“Reports?”[/color]

[color=gray]“Yes, the ones you requested last night.”[/color] 

Jannick blinked at the Guardsman, a little slower on the uptake than normal. 

[color=gray]“For the security state at the Cathedra Incepta and Duke Giles’ manor.”[/color] 

[color=9A906B]“Oh!”[/color] Jannick exclaimed, standing up. [color=9A906B]“Great, thank you, yeah, give ‘em here.”[/color] 

The Guardsman looked a little skeptical, but he handed over the folder. [color=gray]“Are you alright, Sir?”[/color]

[color=9A906B]“Yes, totally,”[/color] Jannick cleared his throat. [color=9A906B]“Why?”[/color]

[color=gray]“Well, you’re sleeping in the snow, Sir.”[/color] 

Jannick looked between the Guardsman and the spot where he’d been sitting. It was a snow-covered stone bench in the small courtyard neighbouring the Palace Barracks - and no wonder he was so cold, he’d melted an elegant ass-print right into the snow. Funny, he didn’t even remember sitting down. 

[color=9A906B]“All good,”[/color] Jannick waved off the Guardsman’s concerns. [color=9A906B]“Just taking a little smoke break, that’s all,”[/color] he insisted. 

The Guardsman raised an eyebrow. [color=gray]“At six A.M.?”[/color]

Jannick’s leveled the Guardsman with a flat look, his cordiality dissolving. [color=9A906B]“Is there anything else?”[/color] 

[color=gray]“No Sir,”[/color] the Guardsman seemed to get the hint. [color=gray]“See you at the briefing, Sir.”[/color]

[color=9A906B]“Right,”[/color] Jannick muttered.

[color=gray]“The… security briefing. For tonight’s events. Sir.”[/color] 

[color=9A906B][i]“Right.”[/i][/color] Jannick nodded. He couldn’t tell if the Guardsman was being snarky or sincerely trying to help, but it was a good thing either way, since he somehow forgot having scheduled a briefing, and now had to prepare one. [color=9A906B]“See you then.”[/color] 

[hr]
This was one of those days that Jannick had to wonder if the Goddess thought She was funny. 

He assumed she did, anyway. He imagined her yuk-ing it up on high as she watched Jannick fall all over himself trying to fulfill the duties not just of a Templar, but of the head of the Veradis Royal Guard. He wasn’t cut out for leadership at the best of times, and he had to admire the patience of his new subordinates for putting up with all his many missteps, but the Milennium Festival turned what was normally tough enough for him into a real slapstick comedy of errors. 

He managed to limp through the security briefing with two hours of preparation, but the rest of the day had people coming to him with questions he rarely knew the answers to. The Royal Guardsmen he could muddle through, but then the limo driver had questions about the alternative bug-out route and the housekeepers had questions about departure times and when the cook finally sent an errand boy to ask about Duke Giles’ caterers, all Jannick could do was shrug. 

Bodyguard, he could handle. But he [i]really[/i] didn’t sign up for a [i]management position.[/i]

Jannick was feeling a newfound respect for his mother's management of their family of eight when he finally showed Prince Noah into the limo, and he was happy for the chance for a brief rest. But the scenic drive through gridlock traffic quickly turned from a welcome reprieve from a hectic day to a white-knuckled exercise in self-control as he resisted the urge to roll down the window and have a cigarette. But, bravely and nobly resist he did — he learned his lesson on [i]that[/i] the first time. 

When the limo finally pulled to a stop, Jannick was the first one out. True, he couldn’t smoke on the red carpet [i]or[/i] in the Cathedral, but strangely, the sight of the crowds and the cameras were their own relief. Originally, the publicity of being a Templar (and Templar to the hereditary Prince of Veradis, no less) had been a nightmare; Jannick had never much liked the spotlight, and now he lived within one every day. But over the past year he had come to realize that the position of Templar had its own sort of subtlety to it. The cameras were always on, sure, but they were never pointed at [i]him[/i]. They were pointed at Noah, Scion of Light and future Prince of Veradis. This was actually the first time all day where nobody had any questions for [i]him[/i], and Jannick was glad for it. 

Jannick opened Prince Noah’s door for him and shadowed him down the red carpet. He saw the reporter who approached, but Jannick’s eyes were on the crowd. In the first familiar-feeling moment of the day, he scanned the crowd like he had countless times before, looking for anyone who seemed suspicious. He searched for anyone obscuring their faces, who had their backs turned, who held anything suspiciously large… and fortunately, came up empty. The crowd was full of the awed and delighted faces of excited Veradians, cheering and waving festive signs and holding up babies in hopes of a blessing. Everything looked as it should, and Jannick found he could breathe a little easier. 

Of course, he knew he needn’t worry. Sticking out above the crowd were several white-clad Church Knights, delicately picking their shining white horses through the throngs of people and keeping a watchful eye out for all the red flags Jannick was also trained to spot. Additionally, over at the smaller side entrance to the Cathedral, none other than the JPD was running a security checkpoint, checking every parishioner for weapons and contraband, ensuring nothing risky passed into the church. 

Jannick stared at the checkpoint for a moment, melancholically remembering how sought-after those gigs were and how juicy the overtime must have been when he noticed two of the officers on bag-checking duty pointing at him. Squinting, Jannick recognized them as Fink and Hofmann, two officers from his former precinct that he’d served with for a number of years. They were hooting and waving and nudging some other officers in the checkpoint; one of them gave Jannick a thumbs-up, and the other pulled out his phone and took a picture. 

Jannick offered a nod and a ghost of a smile, but pulled his eyes forward once again. He felt like a balloon with all the air let out. His old police buddies were all so excited when they learned about his “promotion,” and they’d been the first to congratulate him after his Blessing. He should have been happy to see them, but he just couldn’t shake how badly he just wished he was over there checking bags with them. 

Mercifully, they were past the reporter and approaching the Cathedral quickly enough. Once Noah was past the threshold, however, Jannick glanced back to see a stagecoach pull up to the carpet, and a boldly-dressed man step out. The new Scion of Storms, Jannick recognized from the Blessing ceremony just a few days prior. Notably arriving [i]after[/i] the Hereditary Prince of Veradis.

Uh-oh, he thought. Noah wouldn’t like that. 
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