Ordinarily, this sort of occurrence wouldn't be happening. It was a rare absurdity, having a jumped-up marquis' son, the commander of the local militia for Manehatten and its surrounding land, in a position of power over royal guards. Alongside the chief of the city watch, the city’s local police force, he was commanding the city guard, which was a distinct and more militarized patrol force dedicated to the Manehatten Island itself, separate from the marquis’ military forces. Both were leading a contingent of Goldcloaks, the princesses' quasi-professional soldiers whose actual garrison was over a dozen miles away in a castle granted to them by a nearby duke. They stood before a cadre of the princesses' own royal guards and proceeded to treat them all like misbehaving foals. Involving all of these various forces had made sense on paper for the smooth transition of the human from point A to B with minimal fuss, maximum security, and zero exposure to the public. A small royal guard contingent raised fewer eyebrows after all.