The instant Charley steps out, the atmosphere changes. Instead of chatter and mirth, there's complete silence, the occasional snicker breaking through the eerie quiet. Charley brushes it off, summoning his resolve and walking towards the throne, placing the basket and box at his feet and kneeling down, his voice low and respectful as he lowers his head "Your grace. I, Charles Gates, though i may be a mere apprentice cook, shall vie for the great honour of being your chosen suitor."
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