In early March, in the kingdom of Aestheland, the capital Gedaria.
This forest city is like a new piece of art just revealed from the thick winter canvas, portraying the tranquillity and novelty of early spring. The cobblestone streets, recently liberated from the ice and snow, are damp and polished even brighter by the noonday sun.
The city's lake is gradually awakening at this moment. Mild ripples on the lake surface bear a few petals, which float gently and touch the water. Tree branches sway with the wind bringing the scent of fresh grass along.
And at the edge of Gedaria's lake, in the temple surrounded by ancient trees, there are occasional low chants from the priests, interlaced with the chirpings of distant birds and insects, forming a beautiful nature melody.
In the deepest part of the great hall, there is a massive bookshelf, almost reaching the ceiling, filled with books whose spines have been worn yellow by time, yet some are preserved as new.