It was the weight of unshakable confidence, the kind forged in battles won and courts mastered, laced with a quiet menace that promised swift retribution to any who crossed him.
His eyes, a piercing gray, swept the crowd with the precision of a hawk, missing nothing, and his presence seemed to hum with restrained power, like a storm held just at bay.
The crowd noticed him instantly.
Heads turned, conversations faltered, and a ripple of movement spread as nobles gravitated toward him, moths to a flame. "Duke Hanan!" one called, a portly count with a garish red doublet, bowing low. "A pleasure to see you, my lord," chimed a duchess, her voice syrupy as she adjusted her feathered hat.
They orbited him, offering greetings, their smiles tight with hope that he'd acknowledge them, a nod, a word, anything to bask in his reflected glory.
