In a forest unknown to most people on the continent…
Theron stood still, watching the majestic lion in front of him, which roared intensely, as if demanding something.
"What's wrong, friend?" Theron asked, trying to calm the beast with his calm voice.
The lion, Bartholomew, gave him a piercing look, his roars diminishing but still charged with emotion.
Theron sighed, realizing the meaning behind those gestures.
"Ah... I see. You want me to accept my role, don't you?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But, Barto, I'm not the one who should be here. I have to go."
The lion roared again, this time lower, like a mixture of lamentation and insistence.
His imposing stance seemed to reinforce the message: you are the king now.
Theron raised an eyebrow, almost in disbelief. "Your Majesty, huh? Who would have thought you'd be my advisor."
Bartholomew stared at him for a few more seconds before turning around, wagging his tail slowly as he walked towards the forest.
