The Man Who Commands Hearts: Beauty, Power, and Devotion
His voice was firm, warm, but unmistakably commanding. It flowed through the courtyard like a balm after storm—Leon's voice boomed out like soothing thunder, deep and authoritative, but with warmth:
"My faithful soldiers. My adorable maids… thank you for your welcome. You may now stand."
A whispered moment lingered, held in awe. Nobody stirred, not even the wind, as if the air itself was kneeling before him. Then, slowly, motion came back. The rustle of armor, so soft that it jingled, the rustle of fabric against knees—heads lifted, each one following the other, eyes meeting the man they had long been waiting for.
