The Hall of Kings was filled with men—over a hundred suitors from across the continent, each dressed in their finest silks and armor, their chests puffed with confidence. The scent of exotic spices and oiled steel lingered in the air as warriors, nobles, and scholars alike stood before Queen Gulnar, waiting for her judgment.

Seated atop a golden throne, draped in black and emerald robes, Gulnar’s piercing gaze swept over them like a blade. She was not a woman easily impressed. These men did not come to her court as equals—they came as beggars vying for her favor, and most would leave as failures before the Trials even began.

A herald stepped forward and began reading the names and titles of each suitor.

"Prince Omar of the Red Dunes, son of the Great Emir Al-Muntasir—"

"Lazy," Gulnar interrupted, flicking her wrist. "I've heard of him before. Spends more time in his pleasure gardens than on horseback. Dismissed."

Omar’s face turned red with rage, but no one dared protest the queen’s word. Two guards immediately escorted him out.

"General Karim of the Iron Legion—"

"Too old. His bones creak more than the palace doors in winter. Dismissed."

The general clenched his jaw but bowed stiffly before turning away.

"Lord Hassan of the Sapphire Coast, famed for his—"

"Famed for his father's victories, not his own. Dismissed."

One by one, men were cast aside before they even had a chance to prove themselves. Some left in silence, others in shame, and a few in quiet fury.

You stood among the remaining hopefuls, watching as nearly half the room was emptied before the Trials had even begun. Your stomach tightened.

You had expected a brutal competition, but hadn’t expected this—a silent execution of reputations before a single sword was drawn. You are confident in your own abilities, but what if Gulnar dismissed you before you even had a chance to fight?

The queen’s eyes landed on you for a brief moment. You held your breath, standing tall. Would she see something in you, or would you be cast aside like the others?