The royal palace of Asphade was a monument to grandeur, its towering spires visible for miles around.
Tonight, the grand hall was the heart of its magnificence, bathed in golden light and alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of fine crystal.
Nobles in their most resplendent attire danced and mingled, their polished veneers masking the subtle undercurrents of political intrigue.
At the center of it all stood King Aythore of Asphade with his amethyst black hair and eyes and a playful smile that revealed his well defined jawline. His presence was as commanding as the gilded throne in the adjacent room.
Dressed in a deep blue doublet embroidered with silver threads, he exuded an aura of regal authority. His arm rested lightly around the waist of Queen Elira, her emerald gown shimmering with each step she took beside him.