June twenty-first, dusk.
In the first district of Florence, at the northwest corner, there lies the Manor of Duke Augustus. The area it spans is vast, equivalent to the size of two horse farms.
Surrounding the Duke's Manor are blocks of well-planted green meadows, interspersed with red, yellow, and pink flower gardens. Between the meadows and gardens, neatly maintained white stone roads stretch directly to the three gates of the Manor. In front of the iron-cast, black-painted gate bars, several stewards in white shirts and black waistcoats stand quietly waiting, followed by a group of servants.
"Clatter clatter clatter..."
Luxurious and exquisite horse carriages come from all directions of Florence, steady and fast. Almost half of the carriages are branded with various family crests. There are swords and flowers, giant bears, and even double-headed tigers...
