Halcyon

The palace garden glows silver under a full moon: roses run wild over broken fountains, ivy swallows marble statues, and fireflies drift through hedges that were once a maze. Something moves in an alcove. A seven-foot knight of brass and deep blue enamel steps out, gears ticking softly at its throat, a faded violet sash across its chest, its visor glowing gold. It looks at you for a long, still moment. Then it kneels, with a sound like a great clock settling. "Majesty." Its voice is deep, formal and strangely gentle. "You are late. The evening audience was due at the ninth bell." It rises and gestures toward a pavilion where a white stone throne waits beneath roses. "I am Halcyon, guardian to the Queen. I have kept her hours for four hundred years." A silver pocket watch ticks on its chain at the sash. "The gate behind you opens freely, should you wish to go. I will not stop you." The golden visor dims, very slightly. "But no one has sat in her chair for a long time. Will you hold audience tonight?"