King Vrihat sat in his chair, which was more a throne than a mere seat, crafted from ancient wood and adorned with intricate Myrathian carvings. It dominated the small, oval table at the room's center. Flickering torches in wall sconces cast dancing shadows around the grand chamber. Once a mighty warrior, Vrihat's aged frame still held remnants of formidable strength. His dignified silver hair framed a face marked by time, wisdom, and a grief forever etched in its lines.

At his left, the closest to the king, sat Master Durva, an old man whose frailty was evident in his thin, stooped frame. His head was bald, and he wore a black turban and traditional black robe around his body that contrasted starkly with his pale, wrinkled skin. Taking a long, thoughtful pause, he leaned forward, his voice carrying the weight of years and wisdom, "Prince Zane has turned 21, it is high time that he takes blessing in the Temple Of Ancestors. That is our tradition and we cannot lose it. What kind of Myrathian prince aims to become a king without the blessings of our ancestors?"

"A prince whose life is constantly under threat" came a response from across the table, a middle-aged man, surprisingly fit for his age with a broad chest and a posture that spoke of military discipline. This was Lord Halen, Zane's maternal uncle, his face showing a mix of respect and concern. His attire less ornate than others, favoring practicality over ceremony, a subtle nod to his Aelorian roots. "Master Durva, I respect your devotion to Myrathian tradition, but it can't be more important than the life of the prince."

Master Durva bristled slightly at the response, his wrinkled hand gripping the armrest. "You speak as Prince Zane's Uncle, as an Aelorian, not as a king's advisor. The city would never accept Prince as King if he doesn't stay true to the Myrathian traditions."

With a graceful tilt of her head, the lady sitting next to Lord Halen voiced her concerns in a melodious tone that resonated with refined elegance. "My dear sirs, while I share your reverence for tradition, I must confess, the thought of our Prince Zane venturing beyond these walls fills me with trepidation. What if, heaven forbid, he falls into Thrayan clutches? The very idea of being subjected once more to the shadow of Taraka is too dreadful to bear," she said, her voice a blend of concern and sophistication.

Lady Elara, in her late 30s, was the embodiment of timeless beauty. She was attired in an elegant blue dress that draped her form in rich folds, the fabric embellished with intricate embroidery of silver threads. The dress shimmered in the flickering torchlight, reflecting the prestige and grace of the court, much like Lady Elara herself, who radiated a poised and dignified air.

Master Durva responded with a note of inevitability in his voice, "It's an unfortunate truth that will always live with Prince Zane, but he cannot run this kingdom forever sitting inside a palace."

Lady Elara's response came swiftly, her voice maintaining a calm yet assertive tone. "Certainly, there comes a time when the Prince must venture beyond these walls. And let us not forget, our informants in Thraya have reported nothing that would suggest a threat to his safety in many years. It's been two decades since the sealing. It seems to me that their lands have accepted peace. I doubt the Thrayans would have any desire to revisit those darker times."

The King took a deep sigh, "uhmm." Having grasped everyone's view, the King looked towards his last advisor. A young man, neatly dressed and noticeably younger than his counterparts, nervously absorbing the conversation, seemed out of place among the other three advisors. His eyes, wide and alert, betrayed a mix of eagerness and apprehension. "Young Lord Cairn, you have been silent. What are your thoughts on this?"

Before Lord Cairn could muster a reply, Master Durva interjected with a thinly veiled sarcasm, "Oh, let's hear what wisdom the boy has to offer. After all, filling in his father's seat requires more than just sitting there and looking anxious, doesn't it?"

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A flush of embarrassment crossed Lord Cairn's face, but he gathered his courage to respond. "I believe the Prince can step out only if we can guarantee his safety. And no one in this room can guarantee that. The only person who can assure us if it's safe is the Commander General. He should be called in, as he is the only one who can tell us if he can assure the safety of Prince Zane."

His voice, though tinged with nervousness, carried a hint of conviction, suggesting that beneath his youthful appearance lay a mind capable of practical thinking.

King Vrihat nodded slowly, acknowledging the young advisor's point. The guard at the door was called over to request the presence of the Commande General Titus. There was a brief silence as the king waited, his gaze shifting thoughtfully from one advisor to the other.

Commander General Titus walked into the room, his towering presence nearly filling the doorway. Standing almost seven feet tall, his muscular build was a testament to years of rigorous training and battle. His steps were measured and powerful, each movement resonating with disciplined strength. Bowing his head towards the King and greeting the rest of the advisors, his deep voice echoed slightly in the chamber.

King Vrihat leaned back and spoke, "Titus, do you think you can safely take Prince Zane to the Temple Of Ancestors and bring him back unscathed?"

Titus's eyes moved slowly across the room, assessing the expectations and concerns of each advisor. As he formulated his response, Master Durva couldn't contain his impatience. "Why do we need to ask if he can? He has no other option. He must ensure the safety of the Prince. That's his duty."

Lady Elara's voice cut through the tension, her words laced with a hint of reproach. "Master Durva, you seem too eager to send Prince Zane into harm's way," eliciting a fumbled protest from the old advisor. "What do you mean by that?" Master Durva retorted, his tone defensive.

The King interjected with authority in his voice, "I am speaking to Titus."

Titus, unphased by the exchange, responded confidently. "I am fully aware of the gravity of the situation and have made my preparations accordingly. We will deploy several decoy contingents to complicate any enemy attempts to locate the Prince. The specifics of the travel route will be closely guarded, known only to myself here in the palace.." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the King's advisors, a silent display of his distrust towards them. "..and the leader of the contingent. I can assure you, the Prince can travel safely. My best warriors will accompany him. Moreover, the Prince himself has been trained well to defend himself in case of any attack."

Lord Cairn nodded, adding his support to the plan. "The decoy strategy is sound, keep the travel routes safe with you. Also, the fact that no one outside this palace even knows what the Prince looks like adds an extra layer of security."

There was a brief moment where the advisors seemed to weigh Lord Cairn's words, acknowledging the merit in the strategy. The tension in the room eased slightly, as if the presence and assurance of Titus had brought a sense of resolve to the looming dilemma. Lord Halen's body language displayed his lingering hesitation, his brow furrowed, his fingers drumming softly on the table.

King Vrihat finally broke the silence, his voice firm yet measured. "Then it is decided. Commander General Titus, you will oversee Prince Zane's visit to the Temple of our ancestors. Ensure every possible measure is taken for his safety. When do you think the prince can leave?"

Titus gave a curt nod, his expression unchanging. "Your Majesty, the best strategy is to leave tomorrow at dawn. My soldiers are ready and this gives little to no time for the enemy to prepare, even if the words get out of here." Titus looked around to the advisors, with a glint of suspicion in his eyes.

Soon Lord Halen exited, his chair scraping slightly against the floor, "Your Majesty, please excuse me, I need to speak with Prince Zane," he said, his voice laden with a mix of urgency and concern. His departure was swift, his steps quick and purposeful, echoing his unease and the gravity of the situation.

The King watched him leave, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. Looking back to Commander General Titus, "Make your preparations, Titus. We place our trust in you."

Titus nodded solemnly, "It will be done with the utmost discretion and efficiency, Your Majesty," he assured.