The last rays of light filtered through the dense canopy of ancient oaks and towering pines, their leaves rustling softly in the evening breeze. The vast lawns stretched out like a lush green sea, interrupted only by the delicate arches of marble fountains and the winding paths lined with meticulously trimmed hedges.

Noblemen and women, clad in richly embroidered tunics and adorned with gleaming jewels, began to trickle back from the forest, their hunting dogs trailing behind them with trophies in their mouths. The air was thick with the earthy scent of pine needles and damp earth, mingling with the sweet fragrance of blooming jasmine that clung to the edges of the forest. The murmur of conversations blended with the distant trill of birds returning to their nests and the rustle of silk added to the chorus of evening sounds.

The hunt had always been more than just a sport; it was a grand display of power, skill, and status. You knew that much, even if the customs of this kingdom were still somewhat foreign to you. Lords and ladies were returning, one by one, their faces flushed with the thrill of the chase. The air around you vibrated with the energy of the returning hunters, each eager to share tales of their exploits, their laughter ringing out across the clearing.

Then, emerging from the treeline like a shadow in the golden light, came Duke Kingsley. His dark hair, tousled from the hunt, did little to diminish the refined air that clung to him, even in practical attire. A hush fell over the nearby nobles as they noted the spoils he carried—more substantial than most. He carried with him a bundle, wrapped in rich velvet, as he made his way towards you.

“For you honorable guest,” he said, his voice smooth and rich. “I offer you the fruits of my hunt.” With a subtle bow, he presented you with the fruits of his hunt. The offering was impressive, not just for its quality, but for the unmistakable intention behind it. He was not merely giving you a gift; he was making a statement.