The longest night of the year had come to the great city of Gaalen, the Royal Capital of Gaal, with a bone-chilling wind and flurries of snow that piled up in the corners of the windows of the Royal Academy's Great Hall. Outside, beyond the neatly manicured grounds and the academy's walls, the common folk who lived their lives in the shadows of the Royal Palace fretted over their stores of firewood and coal as the night grew colder still.
Inside the Royal Academy's Great Hall, Crown Prince Henri DuGaal worried about nothing at all, or rather, the things he worried about had little to do with the weather and what an extra fierce winter meant for his ability to stay warm and fill his belly. Instead, his mind was consumed by the troubles of the moment.
The academy's Midwinter Masquerade was in full swing this evening with more than a dozen minstrels tuning up for another lively dance, and Henri was running out of excuses for taking another turn on the dance floor.
