The Grand Hall of Zarethrone had never been so heavy with silence. The summon bell had rung moments ago, and now the hall brimmed with nobles, knights, advisors, and even commoners, all summoned by royal decree. The marble pillars towered like judgment itself, casting long shadows across those gathered.
King Aldric stood at the centre dais, draped in his royal robe, but his crown sat on the table beside him, intentionally removed. His face, aged by wisdom and the burden of rule, was solemn. Beside him stood Kaelith, and behind them, the council and court. Among the crowd stood Nigel, quiet and tense, his grandmother holding his hand tightly.
The court was full, packed shoulder to shoulder, restless with murmurs and anxious glances. From crying infants to wide-eyed teenagers, every soul in the kingdom stood present beneath the towering arches of Zarethrone Hall. The air itself seemed to tremble.
King Aldric.
