[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/7j88Znn.png[/img][/center][hr] To greet the day, one must scour the night. To the royal household staff, the tired facade of one Sir Gaius was not an uncommon sight. Too much time spent with his nose buried in musty tomes and ancient scrolls, they would say. After all, he was a chronicle archivist for the Ordo Templi - a relatively comfortable posting for a royal princess’s ceremonial guardsman. If only this were true, Guy lamented. In reality, the man known in the gutters as the Swamp Rat of Somberflaque had spent the last few nights canvassing the movers and shakers of the underground. He had been taking account of every radical element that could disrupt the day’s ceremonies: from would-be anarchists looking to upend society, down to the petty streetwise thugs looking to pickpocket fat nobles. This would have been an average evening at the proverbial office for Guy, but he had been restricted by the fact that he could only use the carrot this time. Too many unexplained disappearances would be bad optics for the Millennium Festival. And so, a small fortune had been paid to a few unscrupulous folks straight from Guy’s own pockets. Perhaps he would find the time to track them down once the festivities ended, but for today, his mind had to focus on playing his part as the Templar of Earth. Luckily, all he had to do was smile and nod; Lady Joanna had practically assumed direct control of Princess Belle’s preparations. The ladies-in-waiting could have gone easier on the blush, though Guy kept his opinion to himself lest he added undue pressure to the princess. He remained silent even during the shared ride to their destination, knowing when his charge would rather be lost in her thoughts than pretend to enjoy small talk. Once they arrived at the Cathedra Incepta of Juniperus, Guy was the first out of the vehicle. It was perfect: no local yahoos or unsightly street urchins were in sight at the front of the crowd. The smell of flowers and expensive perfume replacing the musk of the slums; a scent of home for a [i]homme décent[/i] as it were. He would have to remember to commend those criminals before he arrested them on vague charges later on. Before he could get lost in the moment, however, duty called. He helped Princess Belle out of the car, but to say he had prepared for all scenarios would be a lie. Even he was caught off-guard by the princess’s curt reply to the reporter. Did he even need to do something here? As he watched the reporter’s jaw drop, Guy realized that while he had spent the night scouring the streets of physical threats, the princess was more than capable of scouring the social ones herself.