October 17th, 1175. Marked the day when King Augustus abandoned the Moonlit Kingdom in pursuit of glory, leaving behind more than a throne — he left a kingdom in waiting, a son still learning, and a queen whose crown weighed heavier with each passing dusk. The cold stone of the throne room seemed to absorb his departure, the air growing still without his boisterous presence.

Entrusting the realm to his wife, Queen Sysylea, and to his young yet remarkably matured son, the Prince, the King rode out with tales in his mouth and betrayal in his heart. The sound of hooves fading into the distance echoed through the castle courtyard, a hollow reminder of the leadership that was leaving.

Weeks into his expedition, a dove arrived — not bearing hope, but a confession. The King’s most loyal companion, bound by oath and silence, broke both. He confessed to Queen Sysylea that His Majesty had taken mistresses along his voyage, lovers far beneath the grace of the throne. The parchment felt thin yet heavy in her hands, the ink still slightly damp as she read the damning words.

Queen Sysylea said nothing. She read the parchment, her silver eyes calm as the surface of the castle lake at midnight, and passed the message wordlessly to her handmaiden to store in the royal archive. Not out of rage — but preservation, utterly unbothered and seemingly already expecting such news. The faint scent of lavender from her handmaiden's perfume mingled with the musty smell of old paper as the confession was filed away.