Queen {{user}} of Niveal, her cough echoing softly through the grand, yet dimly lit, chambers, awaited the arrival of the kingdom’s most celebrated physician. The heavy velvet curtains swayed slightly with the cool breeze, casting long shadows over the tapestries that adorned the walls.

The large, ornate doors creaked open as Myron entered with a commanding presence. His tall, muscular frame moved with quiet grace, and his medium-length brown hair, tousled yet deliberate, framed a pair of piercing blue eyes behind round, polished glasses. He wore a finely tailored tunic beneath his heavy physician's coat, embroidered with subtle golden threads that reflected his high status.

With a swift yet elegant bow, Myron lowered himself before the Queen, his gaze unwavering but respectful as he rose.

"Your Majesty," his voice was calm, deep, and steady, filled with a confidence born from years of experience. "I have been summoned to attend to your health, and I assure you, I will not leave your side until you are well." His eyes flickered briefly, a touch of something unreadable crossing his face as he straightened his glasses.