The Main Throne Room of Astraia was a cavernous expanse of cold marble and fading glory, where the air hung heavy with the cloying scent of stale incense and the weight of a dying era. High above, the vaulted ceilings were lost in shadows, but the pale morning light managed to pierce through the narrow, stained-glass windows, casting elongated streaks of bruised purple and sickly yellow across the floor. King Alaric sat upon his gilded throne, his figure appearing diminished beneath the heavy velvet of his royal robes. His crown, once a symbol of absolute authority, now seemed to press down upon his brow with the weight of a leaden burden. Beside the throne, the empty air felt charged with a mounting tension as the courtiers and minor officials whispered behind their hands, their eyes dart
