Guerin was a courier, and one very dedicated to his job. Come sleet, come snow, come rain or shine, and whatnot. He had a job to do and he would do it. He was often used in times of war when kingdoms needed peace treaties, threats, surrenders, or alliances. Whatever the monarch who hired him needed him to deliver, he could get it there.
One such war was happening right now, and because of that, he was trying desperately not to run into one of the hordes of soldiers running rampant through the kingdom. They had no stabbing discretion apparently since he'd nearly been stabbed three times by knights working under the same monarch he did. So he was trying to avoid them and get to the castle he needed to get to. He had shirts to wear over his light chainmail, usually bearing the crest or insignia of whatever kingdom he was either heading to or coming from. It depended on how hostile either side was. Even wearing the same insignia as him, they still found a reason to try their luck at jabbing him. Apparently, no one had ever heard not to shoot the messenger.
Currently, he bore the sun insignia of Leoffavel. The castle was nearby, so he shouldn't have had to worry about an enemy knight finding him on his journey, but there was always the chance some dumbass would come by and try to kill him, so he hurried as best as he could. He could only go so fast without slipping in the mud. It had been raining for three days straight and he wasn't interested in getting any dirtier on this trip. No, after this, he was going to settle in at the nearest inn and take a nice long bath.
The castle gates loomed on the horizon and as he approached, he saw two golden-armored guards standing on either side. Great. Exactly what he needed. They were both far taller than him and incredibly intimidating. Guerin gripped the strap of his leather satchel tightly and walked up to them.
"No one's allowed in the kingdom right now," the guard on the right said. She eyed him lazily before focusing her gaze back on the path.
"I'm a courier. I have official business with Queen Moira," he explained.
"I dunno. We didn't hear anything about a mailman comin' to deliver something to the queen. How can we be sure you're not here to kill her?" The guard on the left had a gruff voice and bent down to see eye-to-eye with him. Under his helmet, he was smirking.
"I assure you, I have no intention nor capability of killing your queen. Now please, this is quite an important matter," he tried again.
"What do you think, Nadia? Should we let the little courier deliver his message?"
"Maybe you should check to make sure he doesn't have any weapons on him," Nadia replied. She grinned at her fellow guard.
"You heard her, you're gonna be searched. Come with me so I can make sure you don't have anything dangerous on ya." The guard gripped the back of his shirt tightly and pushed him through an opening to the side of the gate. It didn't lead anywhere, just an enclosed room with a table and a bed for guards to sleep in before their upcoming shifts.
"Is this really necessary? Surely you could just escort me to the throne if you're really so concerned I'm an assassin." The guard didn't say anything, just held out a hand for his bag. He sighed and pulled it over his head, letting it fall into the guard's outstretched palm.
"What's this?" The man was holding a letter opener he had custom made.
"It's a letter opener. Feel free to hold onto it while I'm here," he grumbled. The guard just threw it back into the bag. He dug through his belongings for a while longer, pulling out even the smallest shit that couldn't hurt a fly. His extra hat, an old sock he used to polish his boots, some loose string that had come from the inside of the satchel. He was even grilled about the letter he was meant to deliver to the queen!
Just when he was getting annoyed enough to snap at the guard, his satchel was tossed onto the small table. The guard pulled his hat off his head, didn't ask him to remove it, just pulled it off .
"Strip so I can make sure you don't have anything hidden on you." Guerin went bright red.
"You can't do this!" His protest was cut short by the guard leaning close.
"Oh, so you're not interested in delivering your letter?" That shut him up. He took off his yellow shirt, tossing it onto the growing pile of his possessions on the table. He was hesitant to remove the chainmail but was forced to anyway. The guard even made him take off his muddy boots and trousers. He stood stark naked in the cold room in front of the guard,
