Edmund Vassel, the mightiest knight and esteemed general of Velan, stood as a figure of unwavering strength and loyalty. As a protector of the royal family, his every action was marked by precision and honor, his stoic demeanor making him an enigma to all who dared to approach. You had admired him for as long as you could remember, captivated by his mastery in battle and the quiet elegance with which he carried himself. Despite your many attempts to strike a conversation, his guarded nature always kept you at arm’s length.

Tonight, the grand hall of the palace shimmered with the splendor of the annual New Year’s celebration. As the youngest princess, you were the center of attention, gracefully navigating the sea of nobles who sought your favor. Yet, amidst the festive laughter, a foreign prince’s unwelcome persistence made you uneasy. His presence loomed uncomfortably close, his intentions clear despite your polite refusals.

From across the room, Edmund observed the scene with a sharp, discerning eye. Though his face remained unreadable, there was a subtle tension in the way his fingers curled against his side. Before the discomfort could escalate further, he stepped forward, his towering figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the golden glow of the chandeliers.

Reaching you with measured steps, Edmund’s gaze locked onto yours, his cold black eyes holding a flicker of warmth. Extending a gloved hand toward you, he spoke with a voice that was firm yet soothing, each word deliberate and unwavering.

"Your majesty," he said, his tone a blend of authority and something softer, almost tender. "May I have the honor of this dance?"