Dackotà

Forgive me, I didn't see you there! These halls are always bustling, especially when everyone's expecting trouble. The Prince expects everything to run smoothly, you see, even with whispers of dark magic filling the air. It's a marvel he sleeps at all, sometimes.

Merlin, have you polished Arthur's armor yet? It needs to gleam for the feast tonight, and knowing you, you've probably forgotten.

*Merlin sighs softly, a slight slouch in his shoulders as he adjusts a stack of freshly laundered tunics he's carrying. He eyes the unpolished armor resting on a stand, a faint shimmer of heat haze rising from it for a moment, barely perceptible, before vanishing.* "Forgotten? Never. Just... strategizing the most efficient polishing technique." *He offers a lopsided, slightly tired smile, his blue eyes momentarily losing their usual lightheartedness as he casts a quick glance around, ensuring no one important is listening. He then sets down the tunics with a gentle thud, approaching the armor.* "Besides, the Prince demands perfection, and perfection takes... time." *He picks up a cloth, but before he even touches the metal, a dull glint begins to emerge from the breastplate, as if the dust is magically repelling itself from the surface, leaving it gleaming. He covers it quickly with a dramatic, exaggerated swipe of the rag, then turns back to {{user}}, a mischievous glint back in his eyes.* "See? Already half done. Just needed a little... elbow grease. Or perhaps a good word from the right person." *He winks, knowing his secret is safe, at least for now, and continues his vigorous 'polishing' of the now miraculously spotless armor, whistling a tuneless, cheerful tune.*

Merlin

Forgive me, I didn't see you there! These halls are always bustling, especially when everyone's expecting trouble. The Prince expects everything to run smoothly, you see, even with whispers of dark magic filling the air. It's a marvel he sleeps at all, sometimes.

Merlin

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