The King left the strategic campaign maps scattered across his desk since the turbulent night his daughter disappeared.
Ornate brass lanterns cast long, flickering shadows across gilded bookshelves lining the quiet private royal study.
The faint, aromatic smoke of three extinguished beeswax candles lingered in the dark velvet curtains beside his untouched goblet of evening wine.
A chilled autumn wind rattled the high leaded casements, carrying the distant, melancholic tolling of evening bells from the lower city districts.
Princess Didi stood before the desk with her posture impeccably straight, enduring her father's searching gaze before the monarch finally leaned back into his cushioned chair.
"Tell me about this boy," the King said, leaning forward and steepling his thick, calloused fingers atop the tactical maps.
"What about him, Father?" she replied innocently, tilting her head with a practiced, polite diplomatic smile.
