Abbot Giacomo Silvanus was known to be a prophet three-hundred years ago. Everything he prophesied for the kingdom of Lapulisto had come true—the ten-month war during King Onesius' reign, the betrayal of Duchess Celesta when King Troy the Third was on the throne, and the famine of fourteen months which lasted in King Balderwin the Second's rule.

Hence it was no wonder that the kingdom of Lapulisto waited with bated breath at the approaching coronation of Princess Rosaline as the seventh Queen of Lapulisto. For it was in her reign that Abbot Giacomo prophesied that a traitor would try to take the throne, and a king without a crown would triumph over him and save innocent blood from being spilled.

But at the moment, Rosaline was not concerned with a three-hundred-year-old prophecy. Instead, her attention was focused on the present matter of another severe famine raging through her kingdom and the case she brought forth before a council of twelve misogynistic men on how to combat it.

Her people were petitioning her to send relief to the poorer parts of the kingdom but the greedier males seated before her, males with rotund stomachs, bald heads, and decorative suits befitting their wealthy, titled stations in life had other plans. Rich as they were, they sought to become richer by selling the much-needed harvest of Lapulisto to the neighboring kingdom of Schonwen for silks and treasures. And no one was more vindictively insistent upon it than Duke Rowaine of Vaunbrough, the richest, youngest gormandizer of wealth on the royal council. And, Rosaline's soon-to-be betrothed.

"This is not a matter for you to decide, your highness." Rowaine slammed a fist on the table in impatience. "You should be more concerned with the state of the castle at your upcoming engagement ball tomorrow." The engagement ball was a mere formality; although many titled wealthy men would attend it in hopes of winning the Princess's hand, it had been predetermined by Rowaine himself that he was to wed her.

"My people are starving!" Rosaline stood up, shaking with indignation. "I will not sit back and feast when their lives waste away!"

"Trading with Schonwen will fill the treasury, your highness," Lord Mesmonte reasoned placidly.

"But it will not fill empty stomachs if we trade the very food our people need!" Rosaline contended. "Our kingdom is in no dire need of wealth, people are dying for food, not gold!"

"Masses are dying due to their own fault," Rowaine disputed. "If the population decreases, it will ease the burden of feeding them." Rosaline staggered back in shock.

"How could you?! Those are living people you speak of! I will not allow—"

"ENOUGH!" Rowaine thundered, glaring at her. "This matter has been decided by the members of the council. We have chosen to trade with Schonwen and that is final!" Rosaline stared at him, speechless. Then she got up and left the table, tears of rage falling as she retreated.

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