"You have been extremely distant these past few days, Dorian." Fabio noted, casting a weary glance at his friend and bodyguard.
The usually bright-eyed knight looked pale, drawn, and heavy-limbed, as if he had spent days awake without proper rest. His armor, though polished, seemed ill-fitted on him that morning, like the weight of it had grown heavier overnight. Their bond also felt strained these days; Fabio felt more like a king than a friend. Dorian sometimes dreaded being in the same room alone with him, still haunted by memories of his attempt on his life.
"I apologize, my King," Dorian said, bowing his head slightly. "There has been much on my mind."
