The Royal Portrait

The royal artist's studio occupied the castle's eastern tower, where tall windows captured the gentle glow of twilight. Ancient easels dotted the circular space, their wooden frames worn smooth by centuries of use. The air hung heavy with the scent of oils and pigments, earthy and rich against the perpetual chill of Nocturn's stone walls.

Madame Veronique, the court's master artist, circled her newest canvas like a hawk studying its prey. Her silver-streaked hair was bound in a loose knot, and her black smock bore the colorful badges of her craft – splashes of crimson, gold, and midnight blue that seemed to shift in the fading light.

"The light is perfect," she declared, her accent thick with the rhythms of the Shadow Lands. "Your Majesties, please take your positions."