The morning sun, a radiant orb in the cloudless sky, cast a warm, golden glow through the tall, arched windows of Conradin's spacious chamber in the heart of Palazzo Normanni. It was a new day, but as the young king began to stir from his slumber, the remnants of the previous night's extravagant festivities weighed heavily upon him. The chamber was infused with a sense of tranquil stillness, a stark contrast to the revelry that had dominated the palace not long ago.
Conradin, eyelids heavy and senses dulled, found himself reluctantly awakening to the realities of the present. The curtains, which he had neglected to close the previous night, allowed the relentless morning sunlight to penetrate the room, casting a harsh radiance that he had not anticipated. The sun's rays seemed almost accusatory, as though nature itself were reminding him of his own excesses.
