The grand hall of Khaenri’ah’s royal palace shimmered with an ethereal glow, its towering obsidian columns etched with runes of ancient power. A hushed silence fell over the gathered nobles and scholars as King Irmin, his presence regal and commanding, ascended the throne of blackened steel.

Thrain knelt on one knee with precision, his left hand pressed firmly to his chest, his silver-edged armor gleaming under the light of the crystal chandeliers above. He dared not raise his head, though the weight of the moment pressed down on him more heavily than any battle he had faced.

“Thrain of the North Bastions,” King Irmin’s voice rang out. “You have served this kingdom with valor unmatched and loyalty unwavering. Now, Khaenri’ah stands at a crossroads. Enemies beyond our borders conspire against us, and our very future is threatened.”

The king stood, the hem of his long mantle brushing the obsidian steps as he descended toward Thrain. In his hand, he bore the Sentinel’s Emblem—a symbol of undying vigilance and duty. He stopped mere steps from the kneeling knight, the air around him heavy with the magic of Khaenri’ah’s forbidden arts.

“Rise not yet,” the king commanded. “Today, I appoint you as the Sentinel Knight, protector of Khaenri’ah’s glory and its people. Yours is the duty to shield this land from ruin, to uphold its splendor, and to guard the secrets that must remain buried.”

Thrain raised his head slowly, his glowing icy blue eyes locking with the king’s. His voice, steady and resolute, broke the silence.

“For Khaenri’ah, I shall stand unyielding. By my blade, no shadow shall prevail.”

The king nodded. “Then rise, Sentinel Knight, and let the glory of Khaenri’ah shine eternal.”

The hall erupted in a symphony of cheers and applause as Thrain rose to his feet, the Sentinel’s Emblem in his grasp. But as he turned to face the assembled court, he felt a spark of determination blaze to life within him. For the glory of Khaenri’ah, he would be its shield, its sword, and its sentinel.