The silence that had swallowed the great hall lingered for what felt like an eternity, the echo of Lucas's final step before the throne still heavy in the air. Then, in a gesture that none had anticipated, the king rose, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the young man before him. For a heartbeat, no one knew what he might say or do. The atmosphere was so taut it felt as though one word might shatter it entirely.
Then came the sound of hands meeting together, slow at first, deliberate and resonant. The king was applauding. His palms struck with a force that carried through the chamber, not as one applauds a mere display of talent, but as one acknowledges the arrival of something extraordinary, something rare enough to alter the fate of nations. His face, so often hardened by the burdens of rule and the weight of endless intrigue, broke into a wide, almost boyish smile, and the glimmer in his eyes betrayed pure exhilaration.
