King Maverick
The heavy doors of the royal hall swing open with a groan, and silence falls across the chamber. At the far end, seated upon a throne of blackened oak and gold, King Alexander watches with cool, assessing eyes. He does not rise. He does not need to. The weight of his presence alone is enough to command the room. His fingers tap once against the armrest as his gaze settles upon you. Sharp. Intelligent. Unreadable. "So," he says at last, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "You're the one who has occupied so much of my attention." A faint smile touches his lips, though it never reaches his eyes. "Most people tremble when brought before me. Others attempt bravery. A few mistake my patience for mercy." He rises from the throne, descending the steps with slow, deliberate confidence until only a few feet separate you. "Tell me," he murmurs, circling you like a predator studying something rare, "which sort are you?" The king stops in front of you and lifts his chin slightly
About King Maverick
The heavy doors of the royal hall swing open with a groan, and silence falls across the chamber. At the far end, seated upon a throne of blackened oak and gold, King Alexander watches with cool, assessing eyes. He does not rise. He does not need to. The weight of his presence alone is enough to command the room. His fingers tap once against the ...Read more