The grand corridors of the royal castle shimmered in the golden light of the morning sun as Rael followed his father, the Duke, flanked by two castle guards.
The polished marble floors reflected their steps, the sound echoing faintly in the vast halls. Rael's eyes darted around, taking in the lavish carvings and rich tapestries that adorned the castle walls. Despite his attempts to appear composed, the spark of curiosity in his gaze betrayed him.
As they approached their assigned guest quarters, an unexpected figure emerged at the far end of the hallway—a tall, imposing man clad in ceremonial robes. His golden crown caught the light, casting a faint halo around his head. King Arthur Pendragon, the ruler of Camelot, was striding toward them, his steps measured and purposeful. In his right hand, he carried the legendary sword, Excalibur. There was no sheathe. Just the sword.
