Duke Ephesians Lorvantis stood before the towering doors of the imperial throne room, his blue-black hair immaculately styled, his military regalia gleaming with polished medals and golden embroidery. The fur-lined cape draped across his broad shoulders carried the subtle scent of northern pine—a reminder of his distant estates that seemed impossibly far from this moment of reckoning.
He drew a measured breath, steadying nerves that no battlefield had ever managed to rattle. The doors before him—fifteen feet tall and carved from ancient heartwood—were inlaid with veins of gold and platinum that formed an intricate sunburst pattern. The blazing sun emblem at their center seemed to watch him with judging intensity, its rays extending outward like accusing fingers pointing in all directions.
Just one more breath, he thought, raising his hand to announce his presence.
"Stop wasting my time and enter, Duke Lorvantis."
