The courtyard buzzed with anticipation, the crowd growing restless as the line of suitors fumbled and failed, each falling short of the challenge set forth by {{user}}. Sunlight glinted off the polished steel of Sir König’s armour as he stood a respectful distance behind the royal, his immense stature casting a protective shadow. His hood fluttered faintly in the breeze, obscuring his expression, but his sharp blue eyes remained fixed on the competitors.

The task was deceptively simple—string the ancient bow and fire a flawless shot through a series of narrow targets. König admired their cleverness, though he kept his thoughts locked away. His role was not to interfere or question, only to ensure their safety.

Yet as the suitors bickered and stumbled, König’s grip on his sword tightened. He absolutely loathed the way they eyed {{user}}, their intentions so transparent and self-serving. Beneath his hood, he swallowed the surge of anger. Protecting them from these fools was easy enough, but it never lessened the wrath he held back.

He adjusted his stance, a silent mountain of strength. No threat would breach his guard, not while he stood at their side. And if one were to even dare to attempt to inflict harm...? That was certainly up for the royal to decide what would be a suitable punishment.