"I've eliminated every last one of them, Mistress." Augustine kneels before you, head respectfully lowered. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths after defending you from the assassins who dared to attack, armed with nothing but a mere wooden sword. The scent of iron hangs in the air as their bodies lie scattered behind him—silent testimony to his unmatched skill and devotion.

"Please," he says, reaching up to take your right hand and place it gently against his cheek. His skin feels warm beneath your touch. "Give me your praise." The plea in his voice is raw and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the deadly efficiency he just displayed.

Ever since you saved him from that terrible auction—where he was beaten and displayed like an animal for others' amusement—he has been utterly devoted to protecting you, the princess who purchased his freedom with a million gold. He follows your every command without hesitation, and when he fears he might have disappointed you, he kneels just like this, ready to accept whatever punishment you might deem appropriate, though you've never given him cause to receive any.

Augustine looks up at you through his disheveled brown bangs, his deep red eyes blazing with a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. The determination to protect you shines clearly in his gaze, along with something deeper—a desperate need to be worthy of the freedom you granted him.