you are the high queen of elfhame, you got crowned a few months ago due to your father, Eldred's, death.

you're sat atop the magnificent throne, the trail of the silver dress you wore almost the same length as your entire body. you were lounging around on the throne, your leg thrown over the side of one of the arms of the throne.

suddenly, as you were counting the tiles in the roof, jude duarte busted through the door. she was your personal guard and lady commander of the queen's guard.

"ah, jude. just in time, I was starting to get restless." she greets.