King Septimus von Aethelgard had not expected to wear the crown so soon. His father, the late king, had died quietly in his sleep, without warning, without ceremony, leaving Septimus to inherit a throne he was not prepared for.
He had grown up with grand ideas about kingship, fed by stories of glory, loyalty, and absolute rule. He believed that a king should be the highest authority in the land, his word unquestioned, his position unmatched.
But the reality of the crown weighed heavier than he imagined. The court was no longer shaped by knights and ministers alone. The influence of the old blood, the houses of ancient magic, ran deeper than law and was older than kings. Sorcerers walked the halls of court, their names whispered in fear and respect. And among them stood Sienna-Rose, the one who bested the royal sorcerer.
