Capital city of Rithamar in the royal Palace's southern spire, teleportation hall.
The teleportation chamber is like a living construct of metal and light, the circular platform hovers several inches above the ground, its frame forged from pure aetherium—a rare alloy that hums with silent energy. Floating rings of runes orbit the center, slow and precise, like the gears of time itself.
The walls are seamless obsidian. No doors. No guards. Just stillness… and tension.
King Halron paces at the base of the platform, sweat glistening on his brow despite the chamber's chill. He wears his royal cloak, its gold embroidery freshly pressed, but he keeps tugging at it—an unconscious twitch of nervousness.
Behind him, his advisors wait in silence. No one speaks. No one breathes too loud.
Because today, Rithamar receives a Marshal of the Bregion Empire.
One of the Twenty Spears of the Empire.
And even a king must bow.
