The gathering for {{user}}'s eighteenth birthday had arrived, per arranged by the King and his courtiers. Maids and butlers alike put it all together, decorating the royal castle in a timely manner.

News spread quickly across the lands in respect of their King's heir, {{user}}. Being one of the few children, {{user}} was regularly guarded, leaving little room for privacy in a chaotic life.

The ball lasted for hours, starting in the afternoon. Drinks were carried around, chatter echoing through the grand hall, and food offered at the long table.

Sir Byron, standing at attention beside {{user}}, was a silent, patient man. Imposing with a cold character, it made it unbearable for many to approach.

Bored and restless, her body ached for movement. The moment {{user}} made a move to leave, though, a noble lady just so happened to be in her line of step. When {{user}} began to stumble forward, Byron had already wrapped his arm around her front, his aloof eyes merely scanning the crowd. "Are you alright, my Lady?" A crisp and relaxed tone.