Custodita a Vigilantibus DragonibusProtected by watchful dragons
You are already
being watched.
The question is only whether anyone is watching back. We keep the register for people whose names are typed into search boxes by strangers: what surfaces about them, who is wearing their name, and what can be reached through the people standing nearest.
One faces out.
One faces in.
The mark on our door carries two of them, coiled against each other, and the arrangement is the whole method. One watches the world and what it is saying about you. The other watches your side of the wall: the machines, the household, the people with your keys.
Most firms sell one and quietly hope you never notice the other is missing. A member who is perfectly monitored and whose assistant reuses one password is not protected, and neither is a member with immaculate devices whose face is selling a currency scam to forty thousand followers.
We watch outward.
Your name, your addresses, your credentials and your likeness, across the surface, the deep and the dark web, and across the platforms and forums where people talk about you rather than to you.
We watch inward.
The devices you actually use, the vault where the documents live, the network in the house, and every person who has been given the keys to any of it.
A company can change its name.
You cannot.
A firm under attack can rebrand, move offices and rebuild its network by Friday. You are carrying a name that is searchable, a face that is recognizable, and a decade of interviews from which a patient stranger can work out the town you live in.
So the object is not invisibility. Invisibility is not available and would end most of our members' careers if it were. The object is that what is findable about you is what you chose to publish, and that everything else is caught early enough to still be a nuisance rather than an event.
Your details are already in circulation.
Addresses, numbers and passwords out of breaches nobody told you about, sitting in files that get traded, indexed, repackaged and sold on. The first sweep is the uncomfortable one because it surfaces years of this at once.
Somebody is wearing your name.
Cloned accounts, invented endorsements, and messages going out to people who trust you, asking them for money, under a photograph of your face. The loss lands on them and the relationship is yours to repair.
The way in is never you.
It is an assistant, a relative, a contractor, or a smart television in a second home that has not been looked at since the afternoon it was switched on.
Nobody is going to tell you.
Platforms do not write to you when you are impersonated. Breach notices arrive months late at an address you abandoned. The silence is not evidence that nothing is happening.
Said once, and kept.
Every business in this trade sells certainty it has no way to deliver, and the people who buy it are usually the ones who can least afford a comfortable lie. So the house keeps two rules and sets them where you cannot miss them instead of burying them in a schedule.
Nothing is promised that platforms decide.
We assemble the case, press it through the channel that works, chase it when it goes quiet, and tell you what came back. Sometimes what comes back is a refusal. You will hear that from us in plain words, with what is left to try, including where what is left to try is a matter for lawyers rather than engineers.
We say what we are not.
We are not police and we do not investigate crimes. We do not practice law, though we keep evidence in a form your counsel can use. We do not stand outside your door, and where chatter reads as a physical threat we hand it to whoever does. We do not insure you: we shorten the odds and we shorten the response, and neither of those is cover.
Three standings.
Take the one that fits.
Ward covers the person. Herald covers the name. Keep covers everyone under the roof. Each carries marks drawn against the work, and none of them requires a call before you are allowed to see a price.