"Your Majesty." The hall echoed with the synchronized voices of those kneeling before Alaric with their heads bowed low in reverence.
Alaric's gaze swept over the gathered assembly. His piercing eyes took in the collection of mages, summoners, and mediums from across the kingdoms. But one figure in particular captured his attention—a tall, cloaked man with an air of both mystery and authority. It was Zavian, the rumored wise wizard who practiced both the light and dark arts.
The mage who noticed the king's eyes fixed on him, smirked and rose to his feet, breaking the rigid conformity of the others.
"Your Majesty, my king," Zavian began with a rich, calm voice, laced with a tinge of amusement. "It has been many years since we last met. You were but a child then."
Alaric's jaw tightened.
