Chapter 1: Love at First Sight
Two hours of daylight remained. The sun hung low over distant mountain peaks, spilling a golden glow over the greenery. The scent of damp earth and wild heather filled the air.
Prince Alexander rode alongside his Royal Commander, Marcus Valen hart, returning to the borderlands after a long hunt. Their main army was stationed a few miles back, at the border fortress. Only a few trusted soldiers trailed them at a respectful distance.
Alexander, son of King Henry IV of Eloria, carried the weight of a future crown, yet today he looked more like a man of the earth than a man of the throne. Marcus, only twenty-seven, was not just a general—he was Alexander's childhood friend. Two days of relentless hunting had left them disheveled, their tunics stained with dust and sweat.
Handing the reins of a packhorse laden with game to a nearby soldier, Alexander sighed. He looked at Marcus and smirked.
"Valen... you still haven't married," he said lightly. "Have you never felt the pull of love?"
Marcus let out a short, dry laugh. "My Prince, before I could even taste the freedom of youth, your father placed the Commander's helm upon my head. I've spent more time with steel than with silk. I never found the time for love."
Alexander chuckled. "Oh, my friend... that is a tragedy. The beauties of Eloria will have to parade in front of you just to catch your eye."
"They might parade for me, your Highness," Marcus grinned, "but you are sailing in the same boat, aren't you—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Alexander had frozen, staring at something in the distance with intensity. Suddenly, he let out a low, sharp whistle—not the whistle of a royal, but of a man struck by lightning.
Marcus followed his gaze and felt his own breath hitch.
A young woman stood a few yards away. Perhaps twenty years old, dressed in tattered, dust-covered rags. She cradled a small lamb in her arms, her face a mask of tender concern.
"It... it is hurt," she murmured softly.
Two older men, herding a flock of sheep nearby, noticed her. One approached, inspecting the lamb.
"It likely got caught in those sharp brambles we passed," he said gently. "Come now, we must keep moving. We have crossed the border, but it will be dark by the time we reach home. Come, Edmund!"
"I'm coming, Thomas! It's just this lamb. Elsa is worried about it," Edmund replied, gesturing for the girl to follow.
"Hurry then," Thomas urged. "We have a long walk ahead of us."
Alexander remained motionless, his eyes locked on Elsa. Almost unconsciously, his horse began to trot forward, following them at a distance.
Marcus nudged his horse closer. "It seems, your Highness, we won't be needing that parade after all."
Alexander blinked, finally pulling his gaze away. "It's nothing like that... and how many times must I tell you? When we are alone, do not call me 'your Highness.' I am Alexander."
"As you wish," Marcus said with amusement. "But where exactly are you going?"
Alexander glanced back at Elsa and gave a quick, mischievous wink.
By the time they reached the border outpost, the golden light had faded to bruised purple. The sheep huddled together, their hooves kicking up fine dust.
A soldier stepped forward, hand on his sword, eyes narrowing at the bundle in Elsa's arms. "Hey, girl. Give me that lamb," he barked.
"No! It is injured. I won't give it to you," Elsa gasped, pulling the creature closer.
"Listen to me, girl," the soldier sneered. "Hand it over, or you'll find out exactly how unpleasant I can be."
"Elsa, just give it to them," Edmund whispered urgently. "We want no trouble."
"I won't! It's mine!" she pleaded, desperation in her eyes.
The commotion drew another man from the shadows—the captain of the guard. He walked with a heavy, predatory stride, eyes fixed on Elsa.
"You," he whispered, his voice thick with menace, "you'll be my guest tonight." Turning to a subordinate, he commanded, "Peter, let the old men go. The girl stays."
Thomas rushed forward. "Please, sir... take two of our best goats instead. Just let my daughter go."
"Old man, shut your mouth and keep walking," the captain snapped, moving toward his blade.
From a short distance away, Alexander and Marcus watched. Alexander's jaw tightened, knuckles white as he gripped his reins. He leaned over and whispered a sharp command into Marcus's ear.
Marcus didn't hesitate. Dismounting, he strode toward the outpost. His heavy boots thudded against the earth, and the sheer authority in his gait made the captain snap to attention. Recognition hit him like a physical blow.
"John," Marcus said coldly. "I did not expect this level of cowardice from one of my men."
Soldiers Alexander had signaled from the treeline arrived, surrounding the outpost. Marcus pointed at the captain and Peter. "Arrest them. Now."
The two guards were seized in an instant. Alexander approached, keeping his head low. With a subtle wink, he adopted the tone of a humble traveler.
"Thank you, kind sir," he said softly. "You have saved my life's honor and protected these poor people. I am but a lowly wanderer, grateful for your aid."
Marcus cleared his throat. "This traveler," he said, gesturing to Alexander, "informed me that you were being harassed. I am the Commander of the Royal Army. It is fortunate he found me in time."
Thomas bowed, tears of relief in his eyes. "Thank you, my Lord. Truly. I don't know what these beasts would have done to my daughter."
Alexander's eyes met Elsa's. She didn't speak, but the way she held the lamb now spoke volumes. He had walked beside her—and somehow, that made the night feel different.
"Come," Thomas urged. "We must leave before more trouble finds us."
Alexander fell into step behind them as they crossed the stone markers of the border. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and shadows stretched across the world.
Elsa did not know his name, but she knew this night would be remembered.