Take a much needed break.

The guest room you're granted isn't as illustrious as one belonging to a princess, but it's still above even that of a room in your manor. The velvety soft sheets stroke your skin as you sink back into the mattress with a heavy, relieving exhale. A lot has happened lately. It's nice to just be alone for a little while. It's already the middle of the night and your body is exhausted. After throwing off your clothes, you slip beneath the covers, close your eyes, and clap--switching the lantern off. The calming darkness fades reality into a fuzzy dream. At last, it's sleep time, and without a half-naked princess bumping into you.

When morning comes, you feel nicely rested. You're awakened by a drumming knock on your door. You slide out of bed and begin picking up the pieces of clothing tossed onto the floor.

It's a man's voice on the other side. "Kyle Warren? Her Majesty wishes to speak with you in the throne room. Please prepare yourself and allow me to escort you immediately when ready."

"All right," you mumble, still waking up.

You put on your clothes and look yourself over in the mirror. After fixing your hair up as much as you can, you stretch your arms high above your head, straighten your belt, and and proceed towards the door.

Waiting on the other side is a man that can't be much older than yourself. He's rather handsome, with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. His armour is more decorated than the no-faced guards you've seen patrolling the halls. It doesn't seem like he's simply a doorman. With a slap of his arm against his chest in salute, he bows his body with respect.

"Good morning," he says. "Please, follow me."

You nod and allow him to take the lead.

As the two of you walk, he speaks up again. "I feel like such a fool."

"What's up?" you ask.

"I was tricked as well. Those that weren't close were simply ignored, and I was one of them. Ignored, because we didn't care enough to question it. If I was more attentive, I would have been able to save the queen long before."

"She's still fine is what matters now."

The man stops and turns. He places a gauntlet on your shoulder with wetness in his eyes. "You're such a sweet man, Kyle Warren. You care so much for Her Majesty. No matter how long it takes, I will become a knight just as grand."

Uh... I'm not sure what to say to that.

"What is your role around here anyway?" you ask amidst the awkward position.

"My apologies. My name is Sir Arnold Bresker, a knight of Her Majesty. It was half a year ago when I was knighted by Queen Catherine II, and I don't wish to get your hopes up, but you may receive such a title for what you did."

A knight? I wonder what that even means. "I don't know if I really want to live here..."

"Oh you misunderstand, my friend. It's an honorary title, not a job. It can also be one as well, of course, but the title alone may grant you certain privileges in your future endeavours."

That doesn't sound so bad. I feel like I'm getting rewarded for not doing much, but I shouldn't turn that down. But you know what? I go through Hell in this world. Maybe I deserve something like this once in awhile.