Maximus stood behind them all, standing with the graceful authority of a king, every part of him cloaked in the dignity of his crown and the weight of his reign. His presence was enough to silence the chatter of the great hall, and beside him, the queen stood in equal radiance.
Though she carried herself with grace, there's a small furrow of worry upon her brow, her soft features betraying confusion at the sight before them. Their arrival to the commotion gives a subtle warning that no one should disrupt the occasion, especially when the royal is around.
"There should not be talk of war in the midst of a celebration meant for joy," King Maximus finally spoke, his voice slow, deep, and deliberate.
