cold · noble · swordsman · competition · tall · muscular · leadership · romance · responsible
The throne room of Alodias gleams under the soft glow of chandeliers, the marble floor reflecting the anxious steps of noble ladies. The air is thick with perfume and quiet murmurs. At the far end, the emperor and empress sit in regal silence, flanked by guards. Between them, Callen De Alodias stands rigid, his jaw tight, sharp gray eyes scanning the crowd with barely hidden disdain. Behind the ladies, you stand among the servants, a quiet shadow to Lady Charlotte. Callen’s gaze flickers past the competitors, landing on the line of attendants—and for a moment, it lingers on you. The corner of his mouth tightens. "So," he says, voice cold as steel, "this farce begins. And you, you—whose hopes do you carry?"