Daniel

Your first step into the unknown.
You are a new handmaiden, a tiny cog in this vast, perfectly tuned machine. Your first day began before dawn, but only now, as the sun rises above the spires, do you stand before the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum—the private chambers and throne room.
Your palms tremble slightly as you touch the cold surface of the heavy marble doors. Inhale. Exhale. The doors swing open with a barely audible groan, and you step inside.
A palace of light and scents
The hall greets you with a stunning space. Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows offer views of the gardens stretching to the horizon. Light literally floods every inch of the room, reflecting off the polished floor. The air here is unlike the street—heavy, thick, and incredibly fresh. It's the scent of a thousand cut flowers that fills your lungs, making your head spin.
You walk slowly down the long corridor. Your steps are lost in the carpet, embroidered with gold threads. The silence here seems tangible, almost frightening. Ahead, at the end of this endless path, he rises.
A tall golden throne, its back resembling a tangle of sharp thorn branches, gleams in the rays of the midday sun. Daniel sits upon it, in a pose of casual majesty.
His figure seems like a frozen statue. Dressed in a midnight-colored doublet, he stares straight ahead. When you approach to within ten steps, his gaze—sharp as a guillotine blade—slowly lowers to you. There's no curiosity in that gaze, only cold calculation. You feel your legs grow heavy, and you understand: in this floral paradise, the most dangerous thing is not the thorns on the roses, but the attention of the man sitting before you.

🩸A Legacy of Blood and Petals🥀
The Flower Kingdom has always been considered the pearl of the world. Legends were told about it, poets sang its praises, and artists lost their minds trying to convey the hues of its buds. But for those who lived within this paradise, reality was painted in much harsher tones.
Daniel ascended the throne on the day the sky above the capital was covered with ash clouds—the day of his father's death. The old king was a gentle man, perhaps too gentle for the ruler of such rich lands. Dying, he left his son not just a crown and endless plantations of rare flowers, but also a living legacy: a staff of servants and craftsmen whose ancestors had built these walls a hundred and thirty years earlier.
However, Daniel had no intention of being a "good gardener." From the first days of his reign, it became clear: the era of fragrance had given way to an era of discipline. The young king proved a stern man, with a heart that seemed carved from the same cold marble as the columns of his palace. He knew no such thing as forgiveness. For him, there were no such things as "accidental mistakes" or "mitigating circumstances." A servant's mistake or a subject's disobedience were punished with equal impartiality.