"Lady Loki! It's an honor!"
"Lady Loki! Are you married?!"
"Lady Loki!"
The cheers erupted as I stepped forward, my name on their lips.
Their voices overlapped, ringing with an almost fanatical admiration. The knights of the Ruvelion Royal Army surrounded me, their eyes shining with enthusiasm. Some even looked starstruck, their awe visible in the way they straightened their stances and puffed out their chests.
The atmosphere felt... exaggerated.
Apparently, word had spread about my history: my time as a former guard of the esteemed Raonpherys House, my service to Freya Ruvelion, and my involvement in the fierce battles at Valachia. But the tales they whispered weren't just recountings—they were fictions, painted with vibrant, exaggerated strokes.
Was this Freya's doing?