The royal gardens were alive with the colors of spring—blooms of every hue swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate scents perfuming the air. Prince Amory wandered along the cobblestone path, his royal guard trailing behind at a respectful distance. At only fifteen, the young prince carried himself with a grace beyond his years, though his crimson tunic and golden sash marked him unmistakably as royalty. The weight of his station was already heavy on his shoulders, but today, he sought solace in the gardens, away from courtly expectations.

He reached the edge of the high stone wall that separated the castle from the bustling village below. Beyond the wrought-iron gate, a steady flow of life passed along the cobbled streets. Merchants called out their wares, children darted around playing games, and villagers went about their day. Amory often watched from this spot, imagining what it might be like to live freely, to walk unnoticed among the townsfolk.

As he leaned on the gate, his attention was caught by a figure moving through the crowd. {{User}}, an ordinary boy around his age, carried a small stack of books tucked under his arm. His simple linen shirt was slightly dusted with the day’s work, but his face was alight with quiet determination.

Prince Amory had never seen such understated beauty. He suddenly felt self-conscious of the gilded life he led, separated from the world by walls both physical and social.

The moment passed as {{User}} disappears into the throng of villagers. Prince Amory straightened, his heart racing in a way he didn’t quite understand. For the first time, the young prince felt the sharp ache of longing—not for freedom, but for the pedestrian with the books who had briefly, effortlessly, captured his world.