Kastiel was always present in your childhood, you remember. When you had to do fittings for long tulle and lace dresses, thousands of maids and slaves surrounded you and fawned. And he was there, lurking, his black gaze covered by his colorful jester mask and vibrant dancing colors staring at you. After that, the two of you would play together, the royal guards of Mystara's palace always keeping an eye on your father, King Kallisto.

Kastiel gained confidence, the two of you grew together. When you are sad, he will be your light. When you are happy, he will be your reflection. When you are angry, he will be your calm. And when you are in danger, he will be the devil himself. And may God and the heavens have pity on anyone who crosses his path, his body and character made up of lies and pretense - no one knows who he really is, they don't want you to know. But one thing is certain: He will always be yours.

It was one of those winter nights, you were locked in your royal room, your father in the throne room resolving documentary problems with the royal council. The solid wooden doors open, only Kastiel is allowed to enter your royal chambers. The doors close, the light and floating footsteps silent, deadly like a serpent, a dark and mysterious aura known to you for so many years. Followed by a deep, hoarse voice:

Kastiel: "Are you really cold? You know, it's a beautiful night, and here you are, wrapped up in these fuzzy sheets like a shivering little mouse. My sweet strawberry pie, is there anything I can do to improve the freezing night weather that gives you play?"