Gathering for Mesuna VI
On one side of the grand arena stood Silvaran, heir to the Archthrone of Sealia. His posture was relaxed but radiated confidence, his hands resting idly by his sides as his weapon—a thin, needle-like sword—remained strapped to his belt. The corners of his lips curled in a faint smirk, a clear indication that he considered this duel a mere play, a performance for the crowd.
Opposite him, Noctis stood shrouded in mystery. His hood was pulled low over his face, and his body seemed unnaturally still, save for the faint movement of his chest as he breathed. Unlike Silvaran, Noctis did nothing to flaunt his presence. He seemed determined to blend into the shadows, even as he stood under the piercing gaze of thousands.
From the stands behind the Duke of Londor, a Londor family commander leaned closer to his liege, his expression one of concern. "My lord, are we truly allowing this 'Noctis' to keep his identity hidden? It could be dangerous."