Damon's guard duties in King's Square were going fairly well, but he was on high alert. It was normal for a high alert to be set up during events where royalty was on show, of course, but there were already mutterings amongst the guards that some unusual people had entered the city. He'd already had a man named Aziish talk to him about someone earlier that day, but he'd lost the suspicious person amongst the festivities. There was certainly a lot going on, either way. But that face stuck in his mind. It wasn't Ursus, and it certainly was too good to be a mask. Likea fox.

He did as he was instructed and did it well - don't focus on the entertainers, focus on those who are not entertaining. The entertainers have enough eyes on them for the public to alert guards of any wrongdoing on their end. So far the worst he'd had to do was settle a drunk scuffle - the two men he split up were now drinking merrily together as if nothing had happened at all. Still, he would have words with them the next day. He knew them both as citizens of Lucrecia, and one of them as a friend, too. Thankfully on days such as this, it was a fairly straight forward issue to deal with.

Passing through the crowd swiftly and effectively, he watched for the shadows on the sides and saw that unfamiliar sight once more. An intricate fox mask. Two children were pulling at the unusual clothes and egging the dancer to join them in a dance by the fire. But she did not. What is this? Why would someone dress as such and be so much to themselves? He had to find out, of course. And that mask. That mask. The tail, too! It moved so truly, like one would expect of a real tail. This was more than trickery.

He carefully walked around and then, as the children were ushered away by her Akim friend, he quickly moved his hand out and grabbed her by the wrist. "Excuse me, I must speak to you. Could you please remove your mask. He stared at the eyes and they were not human, nor that of Akim. Absent mindedly, he stepped backwards in surprise. "What..."

He released her wrist, instinctively moving his hand instead to the hilt of his sword.