The man walked through the palace halls with stiff shoulders.
Servants bowed and greeted him on both sides, but he didn't return a single look.
His face stayed cold, as if nothing in these warm halls had anything to do with him.
He reached the large audience chamber and finally stopped.
He didn't knock, didn't clear his throat, he simply said to the guards, "Open the door."
The two guards bowed quickly and pushed the heavy doors apart.
The sound echoed across the chamber like a slow drumbeat.
He stepped inside with steady, controlled steps.
When he reached the center of the hall, he went down on one knee and bowed his head low.
"I greet the king of the north."
A deep voice rolled from the highest point of the platform, calm and heavy like falling stone.
"Rise."
The man stood up at once. His eyes lifted toward the throne.
There sat Ravan Tramplin.
