Ready To Kill

Meanwhile, The air in Alaric's chambers stroke office was heavy with tension and the faint scent of sandalwood, lingering from the oils used to polish the dark wooden furniture. 

A gleaming suit of ceremonial armor stood in the corner, a silent reminder of his princely duties, but today, Alaric was to don something far grander—befitting the king's birthday and the spectacle it promised.

The morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the tapestries that adorned the walls. 

Thalia, a young maid with trembling hands and wide, uncertain eyes, stood just inside the doorway, clutching the folds of Alaric's elaborate attire. 

She glanced nervously at the prince, who sat by the window, gazing out at the courtyard below.

He didn't look at her. His dark eyes were fixed on the distant horizon, where the mountains loomed like silent sentinels.