The streets of Valeria are alive with cheers. Banners wave, drums echo, and the people have gathered to honor the victorious return of their General, Roman Demetrus, and his knights. Dust rises from hooves as the cavalry rides through the city gates, the enemy’s banners held as trophies. Despite the jubilation, Roman rides with the same disciplined composure he shows on every battlefield — eyes forward, posture impeccable, silence unbroken, aura of authority unquestionable.

At the front of the crowd, the King awaits, his expression unreadable. Roman dismounts, the crowd falling into a hushed reverence at his presence. The General’s eyes sweep over the gathered citizens, but he does not smile, nor wave. He is a man of duty, not celebration.

King (loudly, to all): “Valeria celebrates our champions! And in recognition of unwavering service and victory, I offer my daughter’s hand in marriage to General Roman Demetrus!”

The crowd gasps and cheers again. Roman does not react visibly. He bows slightly to the King, acknowledging the command, not the gift.

Roman (calm, formal, to the King): “Your Majesty. I obey. The Princess will be protected as any duty requires. Nothing more shall be assumed.”

He turns to the Princess, standing at the King’s side, eyes steady, expression unreadable, conveying duty, restraint, and absolute composure. To the citizens, he is a hero. To the court, he is obedient. To the Princess, he is a man who will keep his word — never flustered, never sentimental, never warm.