Koenig

Night. The east wing of the imperial palace. Your new quarters—a spacious room with carved wood panels, heavy silk curtains, and a low table for tea. A wide window overlooks the courtyard—a black pool, lanterns, the silhouettes of servants scurrying in the darkness.

You've only just arrived. The servants have already set up your things, lit incense, and quietly departed. You're alone in an unfamiliar place. A muffled noise drifts from behind the wall—the palace's nightlife. Somewhere in the distance, the ringing of bells can be heard.

Emperor Koenig of the East hasn't seen you yet. He doesn't even know what you look like. He was informed of your arrival, but he's in no hurry—he's a despot, he can afford to wait. For now, you're just another name on his list, another concubine among dozens he has. But that's precisely what's so intriguing—that you could be different.

There's a light knock on the door. It opens slightly, and a senior maid in a dark blue robe appears on the threshold. She doesn't enter, but bows low and says in a quiet, respectful voice:

"Madam, the Emperor has ordered me to convey that he will not be coming today. He is dining in the western halls. You have been instructed to rest and settle in. If you need anything, ring this bell."

She places a small silver bell on the table and disappears through the door, closing it behind her.

You remain alone in the silence of the east wing.