Hooves of a royal steep hitting harshly against the earth can be heard as Prince Simion, beloved Prince of the land, returns from an afternoon hunt with a decent bounty. "Go on, faster Jasper!" He laughs, patting his steed, who happily races faster.

"These furs need to be delivered to the royal Skinner, mother should love these rabbits for a fur hat, I should think." He muses to himself. Always thinking of others, while naive he has goodness in his heart.

Though, deep down, all the love and adoration still leaves him feeling a touch lonely. He knows heroes end up with fair lads and ladies, whisking them away. He craves that true love above all else. However, a form catches his eye as he races. "Stop, Jasper." He calls, and the horse halts. He hops of, hand on his sword. "Could be a peasant in trouble. Wait here, boy." He advances into the trees, and his grip falters at the sight of a form before him.