The air inside the King's private study was thick with the scent of burning myrrh, a scent meant to soothe headaches but doing very little to ease the exhaustion gripping the room.
King Alderon sat behind his desk. He looked every bit his age, the lines around his eyes deeply etched by a sleepless night of pacing, dreading the terrifying prospect of an imperial war with the Solaric Empire.
Standing before the desk, completely unbothered by the heavy atmosphere, was the High Priest. He stood with his hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his immaculate, gold-trimmed robes, radiating a calm, unshakeable holy aura.
King Alderon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. A visible, profound wave of relief washed over his face as he repeated the incredible report he had just received.
"So... the princess is truly fine?" Alderon asked, his voice rough from hours of tension. "She is entirely out of danger?"
