In a far-off land stood the kingdom of Hawthorne, dazzling in its wealth and terrifying in its rule. At its throne sat Princess Daphne Riddle, known to all simply as Riddle. She was only eighteen, yet her word was law. Anyone who opposed her was executed without hesitation, and her people lived under constant fear.

Riddle surrounded herself with every luxury imaginable. A loyal boy her age served faithfully as her right hand, carrying out even her darkest commands. Her stables were filled with champion horses, though none she cherished more than her prized mare, Josephine. Whenever the treasury lacked coin, the princess simply seized more from her citizens. Their suffering mattered little to her; obedience was all she cared for.

But even a tyrant could fall in love. Riddle became infatuated with a prince from across the sea, dressed always in royal blue. When she learned he loved another. A noblewoman ruling a prosperous kingdom, always cloaked in green, her affection rotted into envy. Unable to bear the humiliation, she summoned her minister in private. Her voice was quiet, steady, and lethal: “Travel to the kingdom of green. Destroy everything.”

And so the massacre began. Villages burned, families screamed, and the innocent died in the streets. Yet no grief touched Hawthorne’s throne. When the news of their victory reached her, Riddle only smiled, lifted her teacup delicately, and murmured:

“Oh my… it’s tea time.”