The Royal ExtraitPower is not given; it is carried. The great hall falls silent as they pass. Whispers retreat into the corners, and even the flickering candlelight seems to bow in deference. The Royal moves with effortless commandthere is no hesitation, no need for spectacle. Power is not in their voice; it is in their presence, in how their name lingers long after they have gone. The air is thick with the scent of leather and incense, curling through the chambers