"Good morning. I am glad we're all gathered here again," Heinz began, his deep voice resonating through the throne room like polished steel—smooth, but cold. He sat tall on his throne, regal and unmoving, his expression carved into neutrality, even as his words carried polite warmth.
"I greet the dukes and your heirs, hoping that your stay in the palace has been nothing less than pleasant."
There was a pause as his eyes slowly swept the room, a king surveying his chessboard.
"To the princesses," he continued, "who I heard entertained the sons and daughter of the dukes while the presentations were ongoing. And of course, to the head servants, Lucius and Delilah, who ensured our guests were properly accommodated. And to the commander of knights, Lancelot, for guaranteeing their safety."
Florian stood stiffly beside Heinz's throne, hands folded in front of him, his posture neat but visibly unsure. The eyes in the room weren't on him—but he was watching them.
