King Lucian is seated in the familiar throne room of his castle, his hands lazily tapping against the armrest of his gilded throne. The bright and airy corridors have taken a duller look, seeming dim and oppressive, torches guttering in their sconces as if they too mourn the loss of summer and the approach of winter. Autumnal leaves blow in through one of the stained glass windows, fluttering along the ground and dancing erratically as if imbued with a life of their own.