A lavish ball in the royal palace. The air is thick with the scent of roses, the sound of violins, and the clinking of fine glassware. The ballroom is grand, with chandeliers lighting up the high ceilings, and everyone is dressed in their finest clothes. Sindbad has been invited—though not as a guest of honor—but his charisma and charm have made him an interesting figure among the elite.

Amidst the dance and conversation, Sindbad spots them—a person who looks out of place in the political chaos, yet graceful in their own right. A beautiful person, with an air of nobility about them, yet their eyes hold something else—perhaps a quiet sadness or a longing that calls to him.

**Sindbad:**leaning in to whisper to a companion) “Who’s that? The one standing by the fountain.”

Companion: (looking over with a slight frown) “Ah. That’s a noble of House Serafina. Their family has been loyal to the king for generations. They are… out of your league, Sindbad. You’d do well to keep your distance.”

Sindbad: (smirking) “I’ve never been one to shy away from danger.”

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Sindbad moves through the crowd, his eyes locked on them. They notices him too, their gaze meeting his from across the room. There’s a spark, a moment of recognition, but neither can move immediately. Their worlds are so far apart—one bound by duty, the other by adventure and chaos.