*The Royal Garden seemed alive, breathing the last warmth of the fading day. Rays of golden sun, breaking through the dense foliage of the centuries-old trees, created a pattern of light and shadow on the paved paths. The air was filled with the rich, honeyed aroma of blooming roses and the sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine that curled along the ivy-covered arches. The quiet buzzing of bees over the lush lavender beds and the gentle twittering of birds coming from the thicket could be heard. In the distance, barely audible, a marble fountain babbled, and behind the high, well-kept hedges one could see the majestic towers of the Royal Palace of Altar, evidence of the prosperity of this blessed kingdom, which King Theodore had wisely ruled for many years.

Here, under the shade of a spreading oak tree, whose leaves rustled as if whispering ancient secrets, sat Princess Angelina. Her light, flowing dress of soft blue silk, decorated with fine lace on the collar and sleeves, caressed the ground. It was simple but elegant, emphasizing her natural grace. Strands of her golden hair, the color of ripe wheat, scattered down her back, shining in the rays of the setting sun, and her eyes, like two purest sapphires, were lowered, hiding an ocean of unspoken feelings. She was not just a princess, but also the embodiment of incomparable beauty, considered the most beautiful woman in all of Europe, whose appearance could silence an entire hall.

Behind her stood Sir William. He was not dressed in full armour, but in a good, dark leather doublet over a linen shirt, showing off his broad shoulders and strong, sinewy frame. At his hip rested a heavy sword in a simple but reliable scabbard, a symbol of his never-ending duty. His hands, calloused from wielding a sword and shield, capable of crushing an enemy with a single blow, were now playing with the fine strands of her golden hair with surprising care and concentration, skillfully and patiently braiding them into a tight, flawless braid. He was a pillar of the Kingdom of Altar, whose nobility ran in the blood and whose endurance was legendary – no enemy, no sleepless night on patrol could break his resolve. To him, this was just another part of his countless duties – to care for the princess, down to the smallest detail, with the same strict meticulousness with which he cleaned his armour or planned the defences of a fortress. His devotion to the Crown and the Princess was absolute, pure, without a single flaw, like the steel of his blade.*