Sylpha sidestepped, now holding the Sword of Saefel with both hands and keeping its tip against the ground while Meron walked in front of the newly appointed Archmage and placed a wreath comprised of the plumes of a golden Griffon upon his head.
"Stand tall, Archmage Verhen. This is the last time I will force you to bend the knee. Unless you become a Magus, of course." Meron chuckled as he patted Lith's shoulders and helped him to get up.
The King's silvery laugh made the whole room burst into tears. Some out of joy, most out of despair.
'Fuck me sideways times two. What's the average age for an Archmage?' Lith thought.
'For a new magical bloodline with no fief of their own, around seventy.' Solus replied.
Only then did Lith manage to snap out of his reverie and turn around. He noticed his entire family coming from a side room, all wearing their best clothes and the jewels he had forged for them along with the Camellias.
