The Caged Princess and the Mad Duke

The castle of Fort George loomed over the rolling green hills of Islewyn, a fortress of ancient stone and unyielding power. From its high walls, one could see far across the island, past the jagged cliffs and white-capped waves of the Elysian Archipelago.

The fortress was protected by the Krig, the Duke's personal army—mercenaries and battle-hardened warriors who owed their loyalty not to the Kingdom of Britannia, but to the Duke of The Elysian Archipelago. They patrolled the halls in silence, their faces hidden behind black steel helmets, their hands always resting on the hilts of their swords.

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Strom, the self-proclaimed Duke of Elysian Archipelago, strode through the dimly lit corridors of Fort George. His butler, a wiry man with a face like a hawk, followed closely behind, carrying a silver tray laden with food. The air was thick with tension, and the flickering torchlight cast long shadows that danced like spectres on the walls.