Chapter 152: King Theron
The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Zarion was a monument to opulence and imposing power.
At the far end, dominating the entire space, was a dais of obsidian, upon which rested a throne crafted from what appeared to be solidified lava, its jagged edges smoothed and polished.
Upon this formidable throne sat King Theron, the undisputed ruler of Zarion.
He appeared strangely young, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, with a neatly trimmed dark mustache that framed a perpetually smug smile.
He was clad in robes of deep crimson silk, embroidered with golden threads that formed the roaring lion sigil of his house, draped loosely over a frame that, while not overtly muscular, exuded an undeniable aura of raw power.
Four other individuals occupied smaller, yet still grand, thrones arranged in a semi-circle before the King’s dais.
These were the Four Dukes of Zarion.
The moment Duke Cedric concluded his detailed account of the events leading up to this point, a heavy silence descended upon the vast hall.
The only sounds were the faint whisper of the breeze through the high windows.
Everyone’s expression was solemn, their gazes fixed on King Theron, each awaiting his reaction with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation.
They knew his volatile nature, his unpredictable moods, and the weighty implications of Cedric’s news.
But their apprehension quickly gave way to a different kind of unease when they saw him.