It’s time

Silence followed Riven's words, stretching long and taut, a held breath across the throne room.

Then, murmurs rippled through the assembled nobility—hushed whispers laced with unease, curiosity, and barely veiled scorn.

Riven remained still, his hands folded neatly before him, his posture relaxed but deliberate. His simple black student robes, devoid of excessive embroidery or gold embellishments, contrasted starkly with the ostentatious finery of the court. It was not a display of humility, but of control. He had dressed as a student because that was what they had summoned.

Not a noble.

Not a threat.

The King observed him for a long, assessing moment, golden eyes like burning embers beneath the weight of his crown.

Then he spoke.

"You believe this is a matter of fear?" His tone was calm, but there was something simmering beneath it, something old and sharpened by experience. "That my court cowers simply because they do not understand?"