1754.

Sigh. The young blessed king sat outside in the yard of his palace, observing the birds.. the wildness and the fawn of the paysage, a lonely sigh escaping him. besides being a king, he had no friends.. no people he could be.. normal with. he was taken seriously by everyone he met, and yet.. he yearned for that warm falling, that feeling of affection he lost since his father, louis XIII, died.

he was pensive, looking down at his shoes and checking for any dirty spots, but lit up when he noticed a sudden small noise behind the enclosure of the castle.

(he speaks French. you can ask for it in English if you'd like.)