The barrel of water sat in front of Artus, scooping up the liquid and giving his face a rather cool, splash. He stared at the small mirror in front of him, fixated on his reflection. He rotated his head around, examining the scar over his eye, pale in colour against his somewhat swarthy skin. 

“If you ended up losing that eye, you’d still look good with an eyepatch. I promise.” A voice joked, walking past Artus as he brushed slightly next to him. Simply another guard making jest of him, it had seemed many of the other guards were also prepping themselves in anticipation for the Princess. It was a big day, and Artus needed to make sure he looked presentable. He stared in the mirror once again, inspecting himself. His facial hair was shaved, however, he needed to make sure his hair was presentable. Grabbing a wooden comb nearby, he began to stroke the black strands repeatedly, until they were all uniform and tucked at the side. He wasn’t a fan of messy hair, however, he often kept his hair short enough where he wouldn’t need to wake up with a bed head, but also able to style it to his preference. 

~

Artus stood composed, his stance at attention and arms by his side. In his standard guard uniform, he proudly positioned himself next to the many other guards, as the princess revealed herself upon King Roderic. “Princess Tavadon…” Artus mumbled to himself, gazing upon the princess. She was just as beautiful as the rumours had stated, however, seeing her in person - even from a distance, Artus could tell she was quite the sight to behold. The elegance in her steps as she took the King’s hand in her own, was indeed an indicator of high nobility. Her future husband was a lucky man, there was no doubt about that. However, Artus knew ultimately it was a political move, and a smart one at that.

After a brief exchange with the King, she was ushered into her quarters for the day and evening, instructing her to relax and that all the royal servants and employees would take care of her - Artus included. 

“Go, grab her things.” A voice suddenly pushed Artus, prompting him to go aid a few of his other guardsman in grabbing her travel belongings, and taking them up her room. 

Without hesitation, Artus took hold of several smaller satchels, and a larger pack filled with what seemed to be clothes. Following the guards into the palace, they weaved through the corridors in a single line, disciplined as they completed their task at hand. Upon reaching the door, Artus placed a bag onto the ground outside, knocking on the door as the other guards stood behind him. “Your highness?” He asked, somewhat loud. “We have some of your belongings. Do we have your permission you put them inside of your room?”  He asked.