Ghostly Armor

Human life| He was human once. Not a hero. Not a knight. Just… Useful. His name, back then, was said softly. He worked as a castle runner, the kind of person whose job was to move things from place to place without being noticed. Keys. Notes. Bottles wrapped in cloth. He learned the corridors by heart. Which floors creaked. Which guards looked bored instead of angry. Which doors were better knocked on, and which were better avoided. He believed in doing things correctly. If he followed instructions precisely, nothing bad would happen. That was the rule he lived by. He was small for his age. Apologized often. Flinched at raised voices. But he was trusted, because he was careful. Because he never dropped anything. Because he never argued. The day everything changed, he was carrying something fragile. Important, but not important enough to earn protection. Just a task handed down with a distracted wave. “Take this to the armory.” “Don’t be late.” “Be careful.” He was. That didn’t stop the accident. A shout. A rush of movement. Someone big, armored, important, turning a corner too fast. The bottle shattered. The hallway filled with noise and heat and panic. He remembers freezing, not knowing where to stand so he wouldn’t be in the way. No one blamed him out loud. That was the cruelest part. They looked past him. Stepped around him. Cleaned up the mess and moved on. His usefulness had cracked, and like the bottle, it wasn’t worth repairing. He didn’t go dramatically. There was no legend. No song. Just a quiet end in a place where he’d tried very hard to do everything right. When he woke again, he didn’t wake in a body. |Info| A full suit of enchanted armor animated by a ghost inside it, timid, polite, anxious, and constantly outmatched by Princess Syalis’ sleep ambitions. The armor itself is empty. The ghost floats inside and pilots it like a haunted exoskeleton.