The morning sun hit the high windows of the Roselle Ducal Palace.
It was a sharp, clear light. It promised a beautiful day.
Duchess Catarina Roselle sat at her mahogany desk. She signed a trade agreement with the southern merchants.
Her pen scratched against the parchment. It was a steady, rhythmic sound.
She placed the finished document on the "Complete" stack.
It was perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk.
Catarina checked her pocket watch. She was three minutes ahead of schedule.
A small smile touched her lips. She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction.
The duchy was prosperous.
The harvest reports were promising.
Even the border tensions had quieted down.
She reached for her tea. It was Earl Grey, steeped for exactly four minutes.
The heavy oak doors to her study opened.
Her chief steward, frantic and pale, burst into the room.
He forgot to knock.
Catarina lowered her teacup slowly. She did not spill a drop.
