Spring unfolded gently over Elysea. The worst of the cholera epidemic had passed, and with each passing day, the scars left behind slowly began to heal. While some districts of the capital still bore the quiet weight of mourning, others had begun to hum again with signs of life—street vendors reopening their stalls, school bells ringing in the distance, and the faint music of a lute drifting through an open window.
In the heart of the palace, King Bruno stood on the balcony of his study, looking out over the city. The rooftops of Elysee stretched far into the horizon, red-tiled and sunlit, and for the first time in weeks, he heard laughter drifting up from the streets.
Behind him, Lord Alistair and Minister of Infrastructure Gerald Duval stood beside a large table where scrolls and architectural plans were spread out. They had been summoned early that morning for a follow-up discussion on the Royal Health Commission and the long-term goals Bruno had laid out.
