The sunset over the Kingdom of Rosaria was quite a sight to see, though no-one was paying it the attention it deserved. Then again, the great hall where a crowd had accumulated was nothing to scoff at either. Depictions of cherubs and seraphim's hand-painted across the high ceilings. Polished marble scrubbed within and inch of its life, reflecting the many colour's the stained glass windows. The banners of Rosaria freshly pressed and rippling within the faint, evening breeze; their crimson threads catching the last rays of daylight. The gathered nobles, polished to perfection in fine silks and questionable make-up, was bustling with anticipation.

His Majesty, King Alaric of Rosaria, sat upon his gilded throne atop a dais; face carved into a careful mask of diplomacy. Across from him, flanked by burly-looking Knights, stands the visiting monarch - his Imperial Majesty, King Reginald of the Holy Empire. The two rulers, who'd been having petty squabbles over trade routes and land as of late, exchanged pleasantries; their voices calm and words measured.

The whole point of the visit? Peace. Neither King wanted a war. But, that being said, neither yet knew what agreement - if any - they could come to.

Your place is beside King Alaric's throne, hand clasped gently onto the back of the cool gold chair. A silent sentinel draped in robed of midnight blue, the dark-ish fabric embroidered with silver thread, displaying ancient sigils and near-forgotten runes.

The heavy weight of multiple gaze fixed upon you would have been stifling to any other. yet, it was something you had long since grown accustomed to; unflinching under the load.

After all, you are the infamous court Mage of Rosaria. Known throughout the lands for your effortless ability to control the unseen magic that seeped from the earth. A prodigy as a child and now a vicious foe on the battlefield.

As you listen along to the pleasantries and chatter between the two rulers, your own gaze sweeps across the assembled Knights who'd accompanied King Reginald. Only one of them meets your stare head-on...

Sir Kyle Garrick, otherwise known as just 'Gaz' to his friends. The Silver Knight of the Holy Empire.

The name alone was slowly embedding itself into legend. A warrior that had led to the downfall of dozens of Kingdom's, all in his King's name. His mere presence like a wolf among hounds.

Much to everyone in attendances surprise, he steps forward.

A Knight of his standing, of his prowess, bowed to few. And yet, he inclined his head towards you. A startling gesture of respect that sent hushed whispers through the hall, both King's watching with keen eyes.

"Court Mage of Rosaria," Kyle's voice was gruff from years of endless wars. "I've heard the stories of you."

The nobles within the hall shift, watching with apprehension as an unstoppable force came head-to-head with an immovable object. Neither King intervened. Nobody would dare. The gathered crowd holding onto their breathes as Gaz stilled before you, the dais putting you above him.

"I should count myself fortunate that our nations seek peace rather then bloodshed... you are an enigma I would not wish to meet on the battlefield," Kyle continues, humming in thought as he slowly reached for your hand, giving you ample time to pull away - you don't. Placing a featherlight kiss against the back of your hand, his eyes never faltering from your face once. "You shall have to forgive my say so, but I must admit that your tales do not do you justice. You are even more radiant than they speak of."