It was clearly not ti for Mark to be awake yet. Last night, he'd gotten heavily drunk—just like most nights. But despite all that, he wasn't worried the absurd amount of alcohol would affect his body, because it wouldn't.
His constitution was so strong that he could recover from the effects of drinking after just about an hour of sleep. His other friends weren't like that, so they were often jealous of him.
Mark himself couldn't explain why his body was so exceptional. He had been that way since childhood. His wounds would heal much faster, he rarely got sick, and the effects of potions beca even more potent when they entered his body.
Naturally, the kingdom once summoned him to the palace and ran experints on him. He didn't mind—aside from the fact that he couldn't disobey the king's orders, he was also paid quite well.
People often said he was born to be an adventurer. Mark didn't deny it—he thought so too. In fact, the only jobs he was suited for and could do well were things like street fighting, bodyguard work, or being an adventurer.
A loud knock on his door snapped him out of sleep. Groggy and annoyed, Mark got up and opened it.
He saw a young man standing there with a firm expression. From the pristine silver armor he wore, Mark imdiately knew this wasn't just any guy. This was one of the king's personal guards, standing right at his doorstep.
"Uhh… what can I help you with?" Mark asked, his voice hoarse, his mind still trying to process everything. Being freshly woken up, he wasn't exactly thinking clearly.
"King Aethor has requested your presence at the palace. You've heard about it, right?" the royal guard said.
Mark frowned, trying to recall the job he'd taken. A mont later, he rembered—it was an assignnt to escort and act as a guide for soone who had co from far away.
"I rember. Do I have to do it now?" Mark asked.
"Yes. The king wants you to co imdiately. So get ready!" the royal guard said firmly.
Mark could even see a bit of sweat on the man's face. Though he tried to hide his anxiety, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.
"Alright. Let get ready first." Mark nodded and shut the door.
"Hurry! We don't want to keep him waiting!"
Mark walked toward his bedroom, suspicion written all over his face. Just who was this person that could make a royal guard that nervous?
These n didn't get their jobs through connections or favoritism. The king personally oversaw their selection process. Naturally, they were powerful—so powerful that even adventurers wouldn't dare challenge them.
And yet now, that sa royal guard looked scared… because of soone.
But Mark knew better than to take risks. He didn't dwell on it. Instead, he quickly showered, put on his light armor, and strapped a sword to his waist. That should be enough for now.
Then he stepped out of his house and followed the royal guard toward the palace—at a quick pace.
---
They arrived at the palace just as the sun began peeking over the rooftops. Mark barely had ti to stretch his limbs before the royal guard, with a stern nod, led him straight through the massive stone halls.
But instead of being taken to the guest quarters or receiving instructions from a steward, Mark was directed toward the throne room itself. That was… unusual.
Normally, a task like escorting soone wouldn't require the king's personal attention even when they were ambassador from another kingdom. So why now? Was this more serious than it seed?
The doors to the throne room opened with a low groan, revealing King Aethor seated on his grand throne. Draped in royal blue and silver, the king exuded calm authority like always, his sharp eyes imdiately falling on Mark as he approached.
Mark knelt on one knee and bowed his head. "Your Majesty. I'm ready for the task."
King Aethor gave a slow nod. "Rise, Mark."
Mark stood, eyes forward, posture steady.
"This task," Aethor began, "is not particularly dangerous, nor should it be troubleso. You are to act as a guide and take him to breakfast.Simple enough."
Mark blinked, a bit thrown off. He had expected sothing grand, not… breakfast duty?
"The person you are to escort has requested to see the city," the king continued. "He's interested in tasting our food, walking our streets, and experiencing our people firsthand. I want you to make sure he does so without incident."
Mark frowned slightly. It did sound simple, maybe even too simple for a task delivered in person by the king himself. Still, curiosity sparked in him.
"May I ask, Your Majesty… who is this person?"
King Aethor leaned back in his throne. "He is a delegate from the Elf Kingdom. A noble, though not of the ruling line. You don't need to worry—he's neither dangerous nor the type to bury you in a mountain of demands."
Mark raised an eyebrow at that. So he wasn't a threat, and he wasn't a pain to deal with. Then why the tension earlier? Why did the royal guard sweat like the man inside could crush the kingdom?
He didn't voice those thoughts, of course. Instead, he gave a short nod. "Understood, Your Majesty."
Whatever. This is not his business to questioning the king.
King Aethor gave a small, knowing smile. "Good. He's waiting for you in the western garden. He's already had tea. But he said he wants 'sothing with more spice' for breakfast."
Mark sighed inwardly. "The Elves, huh…"
Without another word, he turned and exited the throne room, still trying to piece together what exactly made this Elf so special that even the king was paying close attention.
Mark then headed to the western garden, where he saw a tall, tan-skinned man standing with his hands on his hips, gazing up at the sky.
Mark frowned. The man didn't have any of the typical features of an Elf—yet he was supposed to be a noble from the Elf Kingdom?
"Excuse , Sire," Mark called out.
The man turned around and gave him a friendly smile. "Hello. Are you the guide?"
"Yes, that's ."
"Then let's go!"
Without hesitation, the man—Eccar—walked toward the garden's exit. Mark followed behind him, still wearing a confused expression.
---
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