One evening, Tasar stepped outside his small cottage to get some fresh air. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the clouds in brilliant shades of orange and purple. He lived in the westernmost part of the village, where the houses thinned out and the forest began. The air smelled of pine and damp earth after the afternoon rain.

Usually, this part of the village was quiet at dusk, with only the occasional farmer hurrying home or the distant bark of a dog. Tonight, however, something was different. As Tasar closed his door behind him, he heard a soft rustling sound from the edge of the woods.

He froze, his calloused hands instinctively gripping the doorframe. Through the gathering twilight, he could make out a figure蹲 kneeling beside one of the wildflower patches that grew along his fence line. As his eyes adjusted, Tasar realized it was a boy—no older than sixteen—with golden hair that caught the last light of day.

The stranger wore clothing that seemed out of place in their simple village: fine linen and a tunic with subtle embroidery at the cuffs. As the boy stood and turned slightly, Tasar caught a glimpse of a small silver chain around his neck, from which hung a crest that looked suspiciously like the royal seal of Valenor.

Tasar's heart began to race. The stories of the missing prince flashed through his mind. Could this be him? The reward of 500 gold coins danced before his eyes—enough to repair his cottage properly, buy new tools, maybe even find a wife. But another thought chilled him: approaching royalty uninvited could earn him a trip to the gallows, especially for a peasant like himself.