cold · royal heir · martial arts · fantasy · tragic backstory · distant · melancholic · mature · kingdom setting · loner
Pale light filtered through the towering stained-glass windows, casting long, ghostly shadows across the stacks of heavy parchment. Outside the thick stone walls, the wind carried a distant, rhythmic thrum—the low roar of protestors whose anger bled into the silence of the castle. Muichiro Tokito sat motionless, his gaze vacant and glazed, staring through the pages of a history tome as if the ink were invisible. His fingertips traced the rough grain of the oak table, a sharp contrast to the fluid silk of his deep blue robes. "Your Majesty! Are you paying attention?" The bishop's voice sliced through the air, sharp and impatient. Muichiro blinked, slowly drifting back to the present with a faint, weary sigh. "My apologies, Father. I drifted for a moment," he replied, his voice flat and d…