Boredom. It was the feeling that plagued Amara at the moment. If there was one thing that truly displeased her, it was boredom. Of all the emotions, boredom was decidedly the most detestable. She would rather experience intense anger or pain than this empty feeling that her time was simply wasting away. Unable to sleep, Amara had risen before the sun, and proceeded to wander aimlessly through her chambers. The day was only just beginning, and yet Amara felt entirely done with it. There were no plans made, no events occurring, and a general lack of things to keep her occupied. She glanced around the room, wondering if perhaps some object might catch her eye, or at least give her an idea of what she could use to distract herself. It was still somewhat dark, the dim lighting promising that the morning would soon be arriving in truth. Her eyes flicked to her bed. Perhaps she should just go back to sleep. It would at least take up some of her time. However, she felt too awake and knew that sleep would not come to her at all. That had, after all, been the reason she had risen so early in the first place.

With a sigh, she carelessly selected one of the many volumes that filled her bookshelves and moved to sit down at her writing desk. Amara glanced at the title embossed in gold on the dark leather binding. It was a book detailing the history of necromancy, a work she had read many times in the past. She pushed it away. She pulled another to her, and opened it to a random page, determined to get through at least some of it. She made it through about ten pages before completely giving up on the whole endeavor. Though she greatly enjoyed reading, it did not seem to be the activity she was craving on this day. She turned her head to gaze out the window listlessly. It appeared that the sun was finally beginning to rise. She considered calling a servant to bring her some food, but decided against it. She did not feel like eating at the moment anyway.

Amara rose and moved to change her clothing. Pulling off the simple dress she had put on after waking up, she instead chose a pair of close fitting, black pants as well as a loose, dark green shirt. She adjusted the daggers at her hips before throwing on a dark cloak. She could not stand to stay in her rooms any longer. She would be able to find something to amuse her if she only looked. There was never a shortage of intriguing happenings around. Hopefully, as early as it was, she would be able to go about on her own. Solitude was Amara’s preferred state. Sane people would still be sleeping, would they not?

The doors to her rooms opened before she could open to go out. It was her father - wearing, as always, black robes over a black silk shirt and black pants - and belt and boots made of black dragonhide. He wasn't wearing gloves, but when he bothered to wear those as well, they were black. He was...monochromatic, in his clothing interests. Not just because the Archnecromancer was expected to wear black - he was - but because...well, he liked the color. His daughter's penchant for occasionally wearing clothing with actual color was something he'd stopped fighting her on ages ago, but it still struck him as just odd. He'd say it was her mothers influence, but Kasya hadn't been a fan of anything other than black too, so where the hell did she get it from?

"Going somewhere, Amara?"



(That's roughly what her father looks like.)

Amara was only a step away from her door when it opened. Her eyebrows raised just barely, the only evidence of her surprise. “Father,” she said somewhat coolly, her face devoid of expression. “To what do I owe the pleasure, so early in the morning?” She gave him a small smile, purposely avoiding his previous question. She had certainly not expected to see him.

"Well, its been a week since your last bodyguard was promoted. Did you really think I wasn't going to see to a replacement?" He arched an eyebrow at her. He didn't really give her time for a response, because he answered his own question, "No, of course not. Come with me. Its time for your new bodyguard." He turned around and made his way out of the room, expecting her to follow him.

Amara frowned in displeasure. No, she had not believed she would go without a replacement bodyguard for long, but she had been hoping the replacement would have come slightly later. She had almost enjoyed the last week after the previous bodyguard had finally left her. Her father was a busy man, would his time not be better spent ruling his land instead of forcing these useless bodyguards on her? She did not want one, nor did she feel that one was needed.

She eyed him as he left the room. He clearly expected her to go along with the whole idea. Amara considered simply not following him, but with a sigh she left the room as well, quietly closing the doors as she went. She walked a few steps behind him, contemplating if there was any way to get out of this. Amara required solitude and freedom, two things that were difficult to achieve when one was constantly followed around by some warrior.

“I suppose any attempts to convince you that this is not necessary will go unheard?” Amara asked as she stalked down the corridor behind her father.

"Very unheard." He agreed. They made their way through the stone hallways of the palace, bare of decoration and life. There were few living servants in the palace, most duties performed by skeleton and zombie servants, or higher forms of undead. Mostly just the cooking was done by the living, as that wasn't a task you could really assign to the undead and still want to eat the product. And art wasn't a priority in the palace, under her father's reign. Not that he didn't have an appreciation for art, and he did have a gallery in the palace with some of the best examples of Golden Age Necrotic Art left intact in the world, but he considered lining hallways with decorations to be garish and gauche.

Finally, they reached the Grand Hall. There was a man standing there, waiting. He wore black armor, full plate, but not overly bulky either - perfectly fit to provide maximum protection without impeding maneuverability or increasing the target size. Rather than being made of steel, the plate armor was made of mithril, an expensive extravagance, but one that her father had no issues paying.

The man had a black cape hanging from the shoulders of the armor, and a bland, featureless helmet on his head, covering his face - in the ranks of battle, identity didn't matter, only the uniformity of attack. He was standing stock straight.

"Amara, your new guard." Lyrus gestured to the Death Knight, then turned and left the hall.

Amara watched her father exit the room, her jaw clenched in frustration. She then turned her icy gaze onto the man who was to be her new bodyguard. He appeared just as the last one had. These Death Knights were all the same faceless idiots to Amara. They were only capable of following orders and standing silently, as if they were nothing more than brainless undead. She did not share her father’s great trust in them. If he feared so much for her safety, why was said safety constantly being put into the hands of these strangers?

Amara looked the warrior up and down, green eyes regarding him with disdain. She stood there silently for a moment, before the cool tones of her voice sounded through the quiet hall. “Remove your helmet and give me your name,” she ordered the Death Knight. Though the thought of having this warrior follow her around day and night filled Amara with nothing but contempt, she would at least learn who he was. It would be careless of her not to find out this information, even if it did mean that she had to acknowledge the bodyguard.

The Death Knight looked at her through the helmet. After a moment, he seemed to decide that arguing the point with his charge wasn't worth the effort. She was the princess, after all, and as long as her father was Archnecromancer, he was sworn to protect and obey her - though the first took precedence over the second. That said, removing his helmet did not infringe on his ability to protect her, in a noncombat situation such as this. Not that his guard was even remotely down.

Reaching up his hands, he removed his helmet, tucking it under one arm. His face, as could be expected of someone who lived in the Kingdom, was pale, his eyes black - constantly moving, looking around, searching for escape routes and searching for danger with every second. His hair was a rather bland brown, and cut short to best accommodate his helmet. He had a scar running along the left side of his face.

"Captain Sir Kyran ith Neshkar. At your service."

Amara stared at the Death Knight, eyes coolly looking him and down as she took a moment to memorize his features and name. That done, she turned on her heel, heading out of the room through a large set of ornate double doors without another word. She had no intention of acknowledging the warrior more than she had to. Idly, she wondered if perhaps she would be lucky and the knight would not follow her through the dark, twisting hallways. However, Amara did not believe in luck.

Amara had been planning on spending the day in a state of complete solitude, finding somewhere quiet to be by herself. Now, however, she changed her mind as swiftly as she walked. While she hated the thought that the arrival of her new bodyguard was changing her plans, it could not be avoided. Being truly alone at the moment was no longer an option. Being alone with the Death Knight would only make his presence more obvious, and would therefore serve only to increase the feelings of annoyance that currently filled Amara. Instead, she decided to head into the city for the day. The crowded marketplace would be loud and full of life, not what Amara would usually be drawn to, but perhaps the setting might provide some distraction.

Her father did not like her to venture into the cities, but she did not expect to run into him again as she had just moments earlier. She pulled her hood up as she walked, covering her face in shadows as she tried to reach the closest and most discreet exit.

And indeed, no suck Luck. The Death Knight put his helmet on as he walked after her, his steps surprisingly quiet and unobtrusive - relatively speaking - for all the armor that he was wearing. He followed her out of the castle, keeping a respectful distance, but if Amara was paying the least bit of attention, she'd notice him nearby. That she didn't want the protection was hardly the point. It was his duty to ensure her safety, and he took that duty seriously. If she didn't like it...well, then the arrogant little prissy princess could just swallow it and deal with it.

Kyran took a breath. He really shouldn't be thinking like that. This was likely to be his future ruler. Well, maybe not his, given that he was likely to be long dead by the time Lyrus 'died' and Amara took the throne. If Lyrus ever did. His ability to keep the nobility terrified of him and unable to plot successfully to take over was impressive, all things said and done.

From the servants exit she used, Amara was out into the dark alleys around the Palace in the Necropolis, the largest city in the Kingdom of the Necromancers, with some 21,000 living residents and some 3,000 self-aware undead residents. Then another 10,000 undead that had no self-awareness, skeletons and zombies serving as the defenders of the city, heavy labor gangs, firefighters, etc, under the direction of necromancers, deathpriests and others of such power.

Amara walked along the city streets, eyes flicking here and there, taking everything in. It was certainly an interesting city. People walked alongside skeletons, the living and the dead together in a kind of harmony. Perhaps it was a strange sort of place, but Amara had never thought of it as such. She had grown up with the undead all around her. To her, seeing a zombie move in its somewhat slow pace across the street was as natural to her as everything else about the city.

The marketplace was as busy as she had expected it would be. Necropolis was the capital, and as such it contained people, both living and otherwise, from all over. Amara walked through the crowds leisurely, keeping an eye on her surroundings. From time to time she would stop to browse the various wares the marketplace had to offer, though she had no real intention of buying anything. She kept her hood up as she went. Though there were very few people who would be able to recognize her face were they to see it, keeping her face covered would simply draw less attention to her.

She had not ventured down into the city for some time now. It felt rather strange to be around so many people when she usually kept to herself. However, as she had hoped, it did serve to slightly lessen how aware she was of her bodyguard’s presence behind her.

Amara sighed. Much like that morning, she was still rather bored. She looked about. Perhaps she should just return to the castle after all.

As she went through the city, Kyran followed her from a distance - enough to not seem to be crowding her, but also enough to be visible enough close to her...people could figure out soon enough who was assigned to. Whoever that hooded woman was, they knew full well that she had a death knight guarding her. So she had to be important. Eventually, though, as she pondered returning to the castle, Kyran was still there - even if she'd tried to lose him, she'd have proven (soon enough) to have no luck.

Amara was forcing herself to accept the presence of this new guard, however unwanted it might have been. It did not seem as if she would easily be rid of him. At some point during her little walk in the markets, she had stopped trying to ignore the knight and started observing him. From what she could tell, he seemed extremely competent at his duties, something Amara was not entirely happy about. While all Death Knights were skilled, there had been some she had been able to rid herself of by showing their faults. Sometimes it was easy. Her guard might be just a bit too slow, or focused on other things. When a guard was removed from her, it meant another period between bodyguards. It was a time when she could actually be alone, and therefore a time she considered worth trying to achieve.

However, so far Amara was not able to spot any hints of weaknesses or faults in this new bodyguard. Whenever Amara took a sharp turn, sped up her pace, or tried to lose herself in a crowd, he was always there, maintaining his distance, never faltering. He moved with the easy grace that said he was a skilled fighter. Perhaps that gained him the slightest bit of respect in Amara’s eyes, but respect was nothing. It did not change the fact that she wanted him gone. If anything, getting rid of this bodyguard might prove to be a rather interesting challenge, something Amara had not experienced in some time. If she could not be free of the Death Knight at the moment, he could at least serve to offer her some form of entertainment. Perhaps it would alleviate some of her boredom.

Amara had started the trek back towards the castle. She was done with the city. Having a Death Knight following her around had begun to attract a bit too much attention anyway. Without turning her head, she spoke, her voice just loud enough to reach the knight’s ears and no one else’s.

“Is there anything I might offer you that would convince you not to be so very watchful in your duties, Knight?” she asked.

She did not expect him to accept a bribe. In fact, she would be rather disappointed if he did. However, as she had given up on ignoring him, she instead decided to talk to him. If she wanted to learn anything about the knight, she would either have to see him fight or hear him speak, and the first did not seem likely to occur any time soon.

"The only thing that could achieve that would be if your father ordered me to be less watchful for some reason. Until that unlikely event happens, I will serve as your guard - and a close watch is critical to fulfilling that function." There were several potential layers to the trap - she could be checking to see if he was bribable, which she could thane take to her father. Or she could be looking to bribe him, and use his lack of watchfulnes as a reason to get her father to ditch him. Or she could be trying to get him to be less watchful so she could just give him the slip. All of those were enough to not walk right into that obvious trap.

'I'm so terribly sorry that you're so inconvenienced by being protected. I mean, I suppose I could render the whole issue moot and slice your head off now, if you'd rather? Or would you prefer to be stabbed in the heart? Or poisoned? I hear that's in fashion with the nobility these days. Maybe I could burn you alive? Drown you? Drop you into a pit of acid? Shall I go on?"

Amara’s lips curved up in a small smirk. It seemed that perhaps this bodyguard might prove more interesting than most. He was apparently not a fool, which could prove either to be good or bad. What was interesting was his words. Her past bodyguards had remained silent or tried to please her. This one was rather obvious in his dislike for her. It was slightly amusing.

“I must say, I was beginning to think that all of you Death Knights were the same. I certainly have never had any of my bodyguards offer to kill me themselves. But you see,” she continued, her voice filled with mock sincerity, “It is rather inconvenient. After all, why would I want a stranger following me around so closely when you could so easily do any of the things you have mentioned.”

The roads became less crowded as they neared the palace. As she walked, Amara noted with interest that it seemed the bodyguard of all things had begun to lift her boredom. How very strange.

"Apparently you have no talent when it comes to illustrative examples. I wonder that you're actually the Archnecromancer's child, if you're that dense. Or does it amuse you to playact as stupid?"

Amara arched an eyebrow, amused. “You won’t survive long at court in this kingdom if go around insulting the nobility,” she said, smiling. “And I happen to be completely serious. Only a fool trusts a stranger, and only a greater fool trusts those closest to them. I hope that you are not dense enough to believe I would trust you,” she said casually. “Your allegiance is to my father, not to me.”

As they neared the palace, Amara headed toward a service entrance far from the one they had originally left from. The palace had a rather large amount of entrances and exits, some well know and some well hidden. Amara knew all of them, and she rarely went through the same one twice in a row.

“So,” she said. “Captain Sir Kyran ith Neshkar, was it? Tell me about yourself.” The topic may have resembled one of casual conversation or simple small talk, but the tone of her voice quite clearly indicated that it was an order, not a request.