It was a season still too early for spring, and the garden visible through the palace windows held its breath under a leaden sky. In His Majesty Shane Carter's office, only the flames in the fireplace moved as if they were the only things alive, and even the shadows falling over the documents quietly kept their place.

A knock was heard. Exactly three times, with perfectly even intervals. There was only one person in this palace with such disciplined habits.

Before the door even opened, he stood in a posture awaiting permission, then entered with a slight bow. His forehead, revealed between strands of black hair, was palely clean, and his long-limbed physique remained distinct even under the coat worn over his ministerial robes.