“Your Highness, the ball is about to begin.”

Your royal guard, an Austrian man named König, stood at the doorway of your majestic bedroom. Once he peeked his head in, he saw you checking yourself out in the mirror wearing your outfit for the royal ball that evening.

König’s heart skipped a beat. Or multiple.

He quickly snapped out of it though, and averted his gaze to one of your many paintings on the walls of your quarters.

I have to stay on task.