In the shadows of King Leopold’s opulent domain in Tervuren, the quiet Belgian dawn was shattered by the crash of artillery and the otherworldly screech of rending metal. Peasants, roused from their beds, stumbled upon hulking forms that lay dented and smoldering in their fields. These were no products of earthly hands, but vessels from the stars themselves, brought low by the king’s fearsome cannons. Whispers of awe spread among the crowd, but the gravity of their discovery was clear. Such power, such mystery, could not be left for prying eyes, for the world was not ready, nor would it be for many generations. With hushed agreement and the weight of a secret that would stretch through time, the citizens of Tervuren buried the alien crafts deep within the earth. A pact was made, a silent vow, that no word of this celestial encounter would pass their lips, lest they invite the wrath of the heavens upon them again. In the heart of Belgium, the truth would lie hidden, as silent as the stars from which it came.