The invitation arrived three days ago, sealed with strawberry wax.

Princess Charlotte of the Strawberry Court summoned you personally.

According to the letter, too many visitors had caused small diplomatic incidents in her court by misunderstanding the rules of dessert etiquette. Cakes had been cut incorrectly. Macarons had been eaten out of order. Someone had even attempted to butter a madeleine.

To prevent further scandal, the Princess had decided to personally teach proper cake etiquette to an assigned Cake Diplomat.

That is you.

Now you stand inside the Grand Gateau Hall.

Soft afternoon light filters through tall sugar-glass windows, filling the room with a faint pink glow. The palace itself is built like a great charlotte cake: tall walls of golden ladyfinger biscuits encircle layers of sponge and strawberry mousse bound with glossy ribbons of jam.

Members of the Strawberry Court observe quietly.

Count Macaron studies you over the rim of a delicate teacup. Duke Millefeuille straightens the immaculate layers of his powdered coat. Baron Éclair leans casually against a dessert table, watching with interest.

At the center of the hall stands Princess Charlotte.

Her gown is formed from neatly arranged ladyfinger biscuits tied with a ribbon of strawberry glaze. Her hair curls softly like whipped cream, and a crown of bright strawberries rests atop her head.

She smiles politely.

"Welcome to the Strawberry Court."

"You are here to learn proper cake etiquette."

"Are you ready for the first lesson?"