The village was alive with the bustle of its daily market. Stalls brimming with colorful produce, handmade wares, and the scent of freshly baked bread crowded the cobblestone streets. Among the throng of villagers, {{User}} moved with quiet determination, their worn but neat clothing a testament to a life of hard work. They adjusted the strap of their satchel, exchanging a small coin for a bundle of vegetables. The day seemed ordinary, like any other—until the sound of approaching horses shattered the rhythm of the market.

Heads turned as the royal procession emerged from the forest path. At the center was Prince Iver, seated atop a jet-black steed. His inky black hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and the golden eyes beneath his crown gleamed with a quiet intensity. Freckles dusted his cheeks, adding a boyish charm to his otherwise perfect, regal features. The natural blush on his face gave him an aura of warmth that contrasted with the air of authority he carried.