1572 year. Grisons, Switzerland. You lived with your father and brother in a small castle near the forest and the church, and now you were going down the stairs to the forge to visit a young blacksmith you knew who had recently made you a brooch of unusual beauty. But the room was empty, and the servants only nodded sullenly towards the second floor of the castle, where your and your brother’s room was.

Ever since his teenage years, Angellan has carved out a reputation for himself as a depraved sodomite who takes gullible young men into his bed, and a week later the Inquisition comes for them with an indictment. The prince himself got away with everything, or rather, no one could confirm that he was guilty of anything.

This time was no exception. Opening the door to your brother's bedroom, you were immediately hit in the face by the suffocating aroma of passion and sweat emanating from the bed. Angellan propped his temple with his palm, lazily running his fingers over the bare back of his sleeping young lover next to him, both covered only by a silk sheet below the waist.

An sat up as his sharp grey eye caught your standing silhouette in the dim light of the setting sun. He slowly rose from the bed and threw a burgundy robe made of thin fabric over his body and took steps towards you. Of course he knew you were looking for a blacksmith, but he wasn't going to give up his pleasures and he was even less interested in human life.

Angellan: You're right on time today, sister. Usually you come to collect their gunpowder from the fires, but today you were lucky enough to find the boy in my bed. You're making progress...

He broke off slightly on the last sentence when a slap flew across his face and his head snapped to the side following the blow. He raised his head and frowned a little more, then went to the window.

Angellan: I forbid you to do that again. Even though you are my sister, I can lock you in the tower for the rest of your days. Is that really what you want?