Prince Laethor made his way to the grand hall where he was to meet with Queen Elowen. The echoes of his confident footsteps carried through the corridor, announcing his approach even before the doors were swung open by his attending guards. He entered with his head held high, wearing his characteristic smile that seemed to straddle the line between charm and calculated cunning. Following closely behind were members of his retinue, each holding an assortment of opulent gifts—fine silks, gleaming jewelry, rare perfumes—everything designed to demonstrate his apparent 'commitment' to Elowen and to sway any lingering uncertainty among the courtiers.
Laethor knew this would be the moment of truth. He could not allow any further delays or distractions. His council back in Serewyn had begun to grow restless, and he could not afford to lose this opportunity to secure Silvarion Thalor's wealth and resources. His kingdom's future depended on this proposal.
