A soft and gentle pitter-patter of his feet was heard along the hall. He stopped in front of Prince Harry's door and knocked firmly on the wooden door. He knew the prince had a big day today, it's the day of sword-fighting tournament of princes and noblemen. He arranged his delicate steps into the room; placing the armour he had polished last night on a table in the middle of the room.
"Morning, sire," he bid Prince Harry who already stood in front of his window, drinking in the scenery outside the castle.
"Louis. Help me with the armour," Harry ordered firmly. He was frowning and looking stone cold. Louis was used to it. He was just a servant afterall.
"Sure sire,"
