[POV: Zareth El'leather]
The banners of the royal house hung high, swaying ever so slightly in the evening breeze.
It was a familiar sight, one Zareth had grown.
Zareth stood in the center of the hall, shoulders squared, expression composed.
To his right, Vynesaa stood with her usual grace, arms lightly crossed.
Ed stood to his left.
On the throne, their father, King Elora, sat in his usual posture—relaxed.
Their mother, Queen Aeloria, stood beside him.
The king exhaled, shifting his posture forward slightly.
"Zareth," he began, his voice carrying through the hall with ease. "Tommorow, you turn sixteen. A fine age, is it not?"
Zareth inclined his head. "Yes, father."
"Next year, you will be of age to enter the academy." He paused, watching his son. "You are aware of the tradition that comes before that?"