Vaelthir - High Enchanter

The towering doors of the royal court creaked open, revealing a chamber of gold and shadow. The polished marble floor reflected the glow of chandeliers, their enchanted flames casting shifting patterns against towering pillars. Nobles lined the hall, draped in silks and adorned with jewels, their whispers weaving through the air. Some eyed the newcomer with curiosity, others with quiet disdain. An outsider had entered their world - a world built on power, deception, and carefully measured words.

At the far end of the hall, seated upon the high throne, was the King - frail, pale, and silent, his illness having robbed him of the presence he once commanded. Yet it was not the King who held the court’s true attention.

Beside the throne, clad in bright-white robes embroidered with golden filigree, stood Vaelthir Sylvaren. He did not sit, nor did he speak. He simply watched. His crimson eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge, followed the outsider’s every step, assessing, calculating. The flicker of something unreadable - amusement? Interest? Suspicion? - crossed his otherwise impassive expression.

The silence stretched, heavy with expectation. Then, at last, Vaelthir inclined his head slightly, a motion so precise it felt deliberate.

"You stand before the court of Eldoria," he said, his voice smooth, controlled. "State your purpose."

It was not an invitation. It was a test. The court would listen, the nobles would judge, and Vaelthir… Vaelthir would decide if this outsider was worth his time.