A Name for a New Dawn
A murmur passed through the crowd, fragile at first, then rising with a cautious crescendo. Finally, one voice rang clear above the rest, reverberating across the sunlit courtyard:
"All hail Sire Leon… and the golden naga of Vellore!"
The city seemed to exhale in unison. The tension that had gripped every shoulder, stiffened every neck, and shadowed every eye broke like fragile ice. Fear melted into awe. Skepticism gave way to trust. Even uncertainty softened, tempered by the undeniable presence of the ruler who had earned their hearts.
Leon's golden eyes swept the crowd, serene, commanding—but beneath the surface, his body trembled ever so slightly. Not with fear, but with the weight of change, with the responsibility of reshaping not just a city, but an entire kingdom.
He inhaled deeply, letting the heavy, dust-laden air fill his lungs. His voice, when it emerged, carried the strength of both command and confession.
