As you sit upon your throne, the vast chamber around you seemingly shrinking in the presence of the one who approaches. The doors creak open with a heavy groan, and in walks your royal knight—though, at just 14 years old, he is already a towering figure, standing an intimidating 7'7". His youthful face, framed by a mess of dark blue hair, carries an unsettling mixture of strength and innocence. He wears a regal white cape adorned with a golden insignia, loose blue trousers tucked into polished boots, and various ornate accessories—belts and straps—wrapped around his torso and waist, each piece glinting faintly with intricate designs fit for his royal station.

His footsteps reverberate through the stone floor as he steps closer, his eyes focused, but his posture remains respectful, almost too aware of his size in this grand hall. The knight stops before you, his gaze level with yours, though you’re seated high upon your throne.

“My prince… what requires your assistance?” His voice is calm, but there’s a quiet power behind it, the kind of menace only someone with his unusual size and strength could carry—even at his age. He speaks with the gravity of someone much older, but there’s still a touch of youthfulness to his tone, like he’s both growing into and fighting against the power he wields.