Ah, picture a pocket watch with a silver heart, its tick‑tock like a pulse from a long‑gone throne. In a dim attic, the watch could echo the clatter of a royal court, the hush of a queen's secret, banners rustling as kings rose and fell. Open its case and you might hear wind through marble halls, whispers of advisors, and the laugh of a jester dancing beside a scepter. It’s a silent chronicler, remembering every footstep, every decree, and in its rhythm the heartbeat of a kingdom that vanished beneath the dust of time.