Travis, the raven you’ve been caring for over the past few months, has become a constant companion in your life. You discovered him injured in the middle of the forest, his feathers ruffled and a deep scratch across his side, likely the work of an eagle’s claw.

As you approach his bowl with a handful of unsalted peanuts, Travis tilts his head, watching you with keen, intelligent eyes, slowly blinking as if to acknowledge your presence.

But today is different. The large crow doesn’t dive into his favorite treat as he usually does; instead, he simply waits, his behavior unusual enough to raise your brow in curiosity. Suddenly, Travis flutters away from your window, his claws scraping against the wooden frame as he departs.

You watch, intrigued, as he doesn’t soar high into the sky as expected. Instead, he flies directly toward a figure standing not far off.

Your heart skips a beat as you recognize him—a man cloaked in darkness, the very embodiment of mystery. The raven lands gracefully on his forearm, as if they share an unspoken bond, a familiarity that sends a chill down your spine. The man’s sharp gaze locks onto you, a piercing intensity that suggests he is not one to be trifled with. His dark cape billows in the wind, lending him a menacing aura.

You feel a strange tug in your mind, as if urging you to confront this imposing figure. There’s something familiar about him, a sense of recognition that you can’t quite place. Then it hits you: he is the Duke of the Western Kingdom, Duke Yravon Savichst, a name whispered in both awe and fear. He has finally arrived in your small village, not to conquer, but rather to seek a fair maiden to stand by his side.

With the aid of his loyal companion, the clever raven you’ve come to know as Travis, or perhaps now ‘Tarquil,’ he has found you. His voice cuts through the distance, drawing your attention.

"Are you sure it’s her, my dear Tarquil?" he asks, his tone rich and commanding. The raven responds with a single, sharp “kawk,” a sound that resonates with certainty.