The Rosenthal Auction House

Standing in the depths of the night garden, Gerhard gazed spellbound at the statue concealed in the shadow of the trees. He was profoundly drawn to the image of the majestic angel, who seemed to be desperately attempting to catch a falling girl. In the semi-darkness, the white stone appeared alive, and it was truly mesmerizing. However, what interested the king most of all was something else. What lay hidden behind the stone mask on the angel's face? Gerhard reached forward, wishing to touch the sculpture, but in the thick darkness, it was difficult to make anything out, as this part of the garden was completely unlit. Attempting to discern the hidden features, he froze for a moment, then retreated a couple of steps to return to the path and fetch a lighted candle. At that exact moment, the silence of the garden was pierced by a distinct, heavy grating sound. Azalea was walking down the path, calmly dragging a heavy blacksmith's hammer straight across the ground. There was not a shadow of hesitation on her face - she appeared absolutely composed, far more composed than she could have imagined herself even a year ago. With one effortless, precise, and surprisingly powerful swing, she brought the tool down forward, smashing the stone angel's head into tiny fragments with a resounding crash. Gerhard froze in astonishment, staring at the cascading stone dust. “Azalea… why?” he breathed, shifting his gaze to the girl. “Please forgive me, Your Majesty,” she smiled broadly and serenely, lowering the hammer. “That statue was simply dreadful.” “So dreadful that it had to be destroyed?” “Exactly so, Your Majesty.”