Florencya was dressed for celebration. The cobblestone streets, polished by the morning rain, reflected the golden lanterns that flickered to life one by one, as though the city itself waited eagerly for the night. The White Marble Palace, standing by the banks of the Serwyn River, pulsed with life. Servants carried trays of crystal, and musicians tuned their instruments, preparing for the Masquerade Ball—the most anticipated event of the year.

Amid the perfume of flowers brought from the royal gardens and the hum of gathered guests, a young woman observed in silence. Her name was Lady Celestine d’Arvor, heir to a respected family shrouded in rumor. Unlike the other ladies, who displayed rehearsed smiles and shimmering silk gowns, Celestine preferred the discreet corners, where she could watch without being noticed.

With a quill hidden inside her gilded fan, she scribbled on small scraps of paper what she saw and heard: whispers of secret pacts, glances exchanged in haste, and promises made behind masks. No ball in Valdora escaped her notice; no secret was too small to be recorded in her collection.

“Word is, the Duke of Elbrecht has already chosen his bride…” murmured a lady in sapphire blue, unaware that Celestine was noting every word.

“And that the Count of Ravanne has lost half his fortune at the royal casino…” added another.

Celestine smiled—a faint, almost imperceptible smile—as she tucked her notes into her leather-bound journal. To many, it seemed a mere eccentric habit; but to her, it was more than that. It was the making of a secret chronicle of Valdora, a portrait of the city behind the veils of nobility.

When the great hall opened, revealing crystal chandeliers scattering a thousand colors across the golden masks, every gaze turned toward the grand staircase. There, draped in crimson silk, appeared Queen Isolde of Valdora, a sovereign as admired as she was feared. Her presence silenced even the air itself.

Celestine, still in her quiet corner, pressed the quill tighter against her fingers. For she knew: wherever the Queen walked, secrets greater than all the others were about to unfold.