Harry's smile widened, feeling almost lucky to hear the prince address the city with such tenderness. "I do not mind at all, Your Highness."<br/>Over the course of the first days at the Louvre keep, Harry had grown weary of he immediate signs of separation between the country and its ruler; Harry was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the prince had enough interest in the city itself to accompany them.<br/>"Bartholomew," he called, eyes still lingering on the prince as he spoke. It was only after the name had left his lips that Harry turned in search for the adviser. The man was standing across the courtyard, already looking at Harry as the Greek met his eye.<br/>The smile remained on his lips as he continued in his softly accented French, the pristine politeness of his Latin getting muddled in the translation. "The prince will be with us."<br/>Even in spite of the distance, Harry could read the look of desperation that flashed across the royal adviser's eyes. It only took him a moment to compose him, taking a step towards the two younger men, yet making no signs of actually wanting to cross the full distance. "Certainly, my prince. Allow me to arrange for an escort before we depart."