A slight, energetic man in a purple and gray uniform--service blaster holstered at his side--comes jogging down the hall toward them. As he reaches them, he halts to bow deeply.
"Your Majesty," says the guard respectfully.
"Ekja. If you're looking for the grand duchess, she's that way," she says, and she smiles, faint and wry. "Have fun."
With another bow, this one shallower, and a (curious) nod to Ajedrez, the man goes on his way.
This section of the corridor is wide, with portraits (all of blonde and dark-haired men and women, with similar features and forbidding expressions, and wearing the same red seal that Plourr wears at their throats) lining the walls on both sides.
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A slight, energetic man in a purple and gray uniform--service blaster holstered at his side--comes jogging down the hall toward them. As he reaches them, he halts to bow deeply.
"Your Majesty," says the guard respectfully.
"Ekja. If you're looking for the grand duchess, she's that way," she says, and she smiles, faint and wry. "Have fun."
With another bow, this one shallower, and a (curious) nod to Ajedrez, the man goes on his way.
This section of the corridor is wide, with portraits (all of blonde and dark-haired men and women, with similar features and forbidding expressions, and wearing the same red seal that Plourr wears at their throats) lining the walls on both sides.
Ahh, the joys of the royal family.