King of Loton

Upon arriving at the Meeting Hall, Rara’s eyebrows shot up in momentary shock. The sight before her was both unexpected and disconcerting. Prince Xavier lounged on the grand throne, his posture nonchalant and commanding, while King Loton stood beside him, appearing slightly out of place. The throne, an opulent seat adorned with intricate gold carvings, seemed almost too grand for the aged king.

Rara couldn’t help but roll her eyes and shake her head at Prince Xavier’s apparent disrespect. His casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the gravity of the occasion.

King Loton, a figure clearly in his sixties or seventies, bore the unmistakable signs of age. His face was a map of deep wrinkles, and his once-straight posture was slightly bent, giving him a stooped appearance. His gray hair was neatly combed, but his overall bearing was frail.

Prince Xavier, in stark contrast, exuded a youthful arrogance. Seated on the throne, he maintained an air of casual authority, as if the grandeur of the