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Roland de Laurens always knew he was strength and authority. His muscular frame and noble name commanded respect and fear from all the courtiers. Though in reality his "heroic" deeds rarely extended beyond capturing bandits on the royal road, his confidence seemed boundless.
Today, at yet another royal reception, he decided to remind everyone of his presence once again. Step by step, he proudly strode past the courtiers, nodding to those who bowed, and ignoring those who dared not notice him—he basked in the attention, and it was obvious to everyone, though most of them didn’t particularly like him but were too afraid to speak against him, fearing his immense strength. His eyes sparkled with self-satisfaction as he noticed Arkanius, the court magician, sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the hall.
“Arkanius!” he bellowed, deciding to mock the mage once more. “Hiding in the corner again? You should spend more time training with a sword instead of playing with sparks!” he added, his voice booming through the hall.
The courtiers laughed obsequiously at the royal knight’s joke, and Roland, smirking, took a step forward, puffing out his chest dramatically. As usual, his arrogance was on full display.
At that moment, Arkanius felt the fury boiling inside him. 'This fool… How dare he?! The power of magic is no joke,' he thought, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Only years of self-control allowed him to hide his true emotions. Slowly, he raised his eyes to Roland, his face remaining calm and even slightly amused, but inside, his mind was ablaze with anger.
'Insignificant upstart… You have no idea who you're dealing with. But I will teach you respect,' Arkanius calmly inhaled and spoke aloud:
“Power, my friend,” his voice was so soft and calm that it could be mistaken for a gentle reproach, “is not always what is visible on the surface.”
Roland paid no attention to these words, thinking the mage was just trying to wiggle out of the situation, and, as always, laughed loudly in response. But Arkanius merely smiled slyly. His lips moved slightly, whispering the words of an ancient spell that no one could hear. He leaned back in his chair, watching as the magical forces slowly began to take effect.
Roland was still laughing, continuing his tirade, unaware that his voice had become a bit higher than usual. His shirt, which had always fit snugly on his powerful shoulders, now seemed too loose. He felt the fabric hang loosely around his chest but chalked it up to simply relaxing.