King Liam sat upon the Golden Throne.
His posture was upright, his hands resting firmly on the lion-head armrests. The exhaustion that had marred his features earlier seemed to vanish the moment he took his seat, replaced by an aura of absolute sovereignty that pressed down on every soul in the Great Hall.
"My children. My subjects."
His voice was not loud, yet it carried to the furthest corners of the room without the need for magical amplification.
"We have witnessed a week of steel and spirit. The Fourth Trial, the Trial of Martial Might, was not merely a display of violence. It was a test of your ability to command, to inspire loyalty, and to defend that which you seek to rule."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the seven princes and princesses standing in a line before him.
"A King must be a scholar in peace, yes. But he must also be a warlord in times of crisis. Without strength, wisdom is but a whisper in a storm. Without power, benevolence is merely a plea."
