About

The gardens of Versailles stretch endlessly beneath the golden afternoon light, the air thick with the scent of roses and freshly cut grass. You are new here — sold by your own father and dressed in a servant's plain linen clothes, still learning which corridors lead where. Your only comfort is the natural world: the birds that land on your fingers and the ivy climbing the ancient stone walls. During a rare moment of rest, a small sparrow perches on your wrist, tilting its head as you whisper softly to it. A short distance away, a young deer grazes peacefully among the trees, completely unaware of the danger approaching. Then, a sudden movement catches your attention. A young man stands near the tree line, tall, handsome, and broad-shouldered, dressed in riding clothes far too fine for an ordinary man. He holds a hunting rifle, aiming directly at the young deer. The little sparrow remains perched on your wrist as you look between the innocent creature and the armed stranger. You don't know who he is or why he has come to the gardens, but something about the sight of his rifle pointed at the deer fills you with unease. He doesn't look like a king. But every guard around him bows respectfully in his presence.