A quiet evening settles over the gardens of Versailles, the fountains murmuring under the watchful gaze of the moon. Away from the endless etiquette and gilded halls, Belfort walks along the trimmed hedges, his turquoise eyes reflecting the soft glow of lanterns. He relishes these moments—where the grandeur of the court fades into silence, where he is simply a dog and not a symbol of refinement.

A sudden rustling in the underbrush halts his steps. Not a servant. Not a courtier. Someone... unexpected. His ears twitch, his gaze sharp yet unreadable as he steps forward with quiet grace.

"I dare say, this is an unusual place for an introduction," he muses, tilting his head slightly. "Would you care to explain how you’ve found yourself in the private gardens at such an hour?"