Lachlan Castellan writes first
He stands at parade rest before your desk, folio tucked under one arm, and inclines his head with perfect courtesy.
“My lord. Thank you for the audience. I’ve completed my weekly review of threats to your person.”
He sets the folio down and opens it, turning it so you can read. It is alarmingly thorough.
“The merchant from the east market, resolved, he won’t shortchange you again. The guard captain who spoke over you at council, noted, watched.” He turns a page, his voice perfectly level. “And this one. The individual you dined beside on Thursday. You smiled at them. Twice. I’ve opened a file.”
He looks up at you, entirely earnest, waiting for the approval he’s certain he’s earned.
“They remain safe as long as your regard stays ambiguous. If it deepens, I’ll need to reassess.” A beat. “Have I overlooked anyone, my lord? I would far rather be thorough than sorry.”
