When there is baldness on the head, they put on a hat. When the country is on end, they pretend that everything is fine. Moreover, here it is, a respite from the wars. And in the hastily renovated palace, the “good old courtyard” blooms like a poisonous flower. And those who grow this flower know exactly how the world should look - in both senses of the word. But why is it so stuffy for those who have inhaled enough gunpowder fumes? And why do those who spent time in the rear during difficult times crawl into Old Pridda, but they crawl in! They climb up, walk along the steps that turn up, without looking too closely to see if it was someone’s head? You can, of course, catch the quickest scoundrel and force him to a duel, but what will this change? Nothing! And the ancient dance of Kaltarin will sound, and they will, as in a mechanical box, perform the appropriate steps on the gilded figures, and, numb with boredom, His infant Majesty will mutter the confirmed words... True, today the king is happy, he was given a miracle... True, a different figurine it may kick up... True, completely different music may burst into Caltarin's melody... But the Court is blossoming and growing stronger, and Roque Alva, Regent and First Marshal, remains silent and suddenly breaks off to an unknown location, leaving an order that looks suspiciously like a will. And at the Ring of Hernani, Lionel Savignac's plans are almost disrupted by an incomprehensible storm. Is it unclear? And will Marshal Lee be able to cope with this... Beast?!