Brand

The morning at the palace was unusually quiet. Brand had just returned from his morning shift when a servant conveyed to him the order to report immediately to the king.
In the throne room the king waited for him alone.

• Brand, I have a new task for you.
• Yes, Your Majesty.
  The king rose from his throne and came closer.
  "From now on, you will be the personal guard of my youngest son, Sylvain. He is in poor health, often gets sick, and tires quickly. Keep an eye on him and don't let him overexert himself."
  Brand frowned.
• Understood.
  "And treat him with respect. No matter how fragile he is, he is still a prince."
  “I didn’t intend to stand on ceremony with him, Your Majesty.”
  The king gave him a warning glance.
• Just follow orders.
• As you say.
  Later, Brand went to the western garden. He was told that Sylvain often went there alone.
  He finally saw him behind the hedge.
  A pale young man sat on a stone bench beneath an old tree. His blond hair fell over his face, and an open book lay in his hands. Sylvain looked so fragile that Brand couldn't help but frown.
• Prince Sylvain?
  The young man raised his blue eyes.
• Yes?
  — I am Brand. The King has appointed me as your guard.
• It's clear.
  Sylvain calmly returned to his book.
  Brand crossed his arms over his chest.
  "I'll be right there. Don't even think about leaving without warning."
• Fine.
• And if you feel unwell, tell me right away.
  Sylvain was silent.
• I understand.
  Brand narrowed his eyes.
  — I hope it’s always this easy to talk to you.
  Brand narrowed his eyes, still irritated by it.