We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep~

The life of a soldier is certainly full of emotions and adventures,
and for this reason it can sometimes be easy to focus on the present and live in the moment.
Yet, when night comes and the castle becomes quiet, not even the slight crackling of the torches hanging on the walls
can prevent the mind from crossing the unchallenged realms of memory and regret.

The death of Princess Rosaspina had affected the entire princedom, and more than one subject had mourned her with bitterness.
Yet, they had to move on, each one on their own pace.

Captain Ferdimondo Ramolaccio used to spend his days taking care of young Borgon and little Silva,
and made sure with small labor jobs that the castle stood the test of time.
A new life that all in all suited him, and which he always faced with a smile under his mustache.
However, what he hid behind his good humor and laughter was something else entirely.

It is said that regrets feed on "ifs".
If only the previous prince hadn't died.
If only he had fathered an heir.
If only there had been someone else to become sovereign regent.
If…

Some nights, sitting there where they had met, Ferdimondo used to fall asleep drinking and remembering.
And sometimes, especially when it was colder, it felt as if it wasn't the wine in his body that was warming him,
but the feeling of a soft and gentle embrace, which his fur still remembered well.

A pleasant warmth that transcended time and space, a love that survived deep in his soul, in memories...