It was the first time Thales saw the dark gold crown atop King Nuven's head. The king was adorned in a golden red ensemble, which was both solemn and impressive. With his own backing as a robust king and while being surrounded by his vassals, he descended the steps and walked towards the meeting hall's central long table. He sat on the throne exclusively for the common-elected king.
In Thales' eyes, this nearly-seventy-year-old man had lost his dull, cryptic first impression. What replaced it was an unprecedented prestigious spirit, like a silent yet frightening lion in its pride.
Nuven Walton the Seventh had a tall, straight back. He supported himself with the armrest as he shot his bright, expressive eyes across the hall. Under the obvious scrutiny of the king, the four archdukes unnaturally turned their heads and averted their gazes.
