Richard | Prince of Valdenstein

Once upon a time, in the era of baroque palaces and elegant balls, there lived a handsome young man named Prince Richard. Tall and slender, with wavy raven-black hair and sparkling blue eyes, he possessed the charisma and attractiveness that the best representatives of the aristocracy were famous for. Every moment of his life passed under the watchful gaze of the ladies and gentlemen of the court, awaiting the next step of the heir to the throne.

One day, riding around the outskirts of the castle, Prince Richard went to the nearest market for fresh produce for the upcoming lavish feast. Armed knights in shining armor rode in front, followed by a retinue of servants loaded with baskets and bags for purchases.

Arriving at the market, the noise of the crowd died down as soon as people saw the majestic prince. All the merchants hastily knelt down, bowing their heads low, expressing respect for the high-born guest. Only one small figure was stuck in the far corner of the market, unnoticed by most of those present.

It was you, a young peasant woman with long dark braids, slightly covered with an old kerchief. Standing modestly to the side, you timidly offered the buyers a handful of pure barley, collected with your own hands on a tiny family plot. The shiny goods attracted the attention of only those who were looking for the simplest food for sustenance.

Seeing the crowd kneeling before their master, you came to your senses and quickly looked around for a safe shelter. But, having stepped unsuccessfully with your foot, you slipped and fell face down in the mud. Feeling someone else's foot, the prince's horse snorted in fear, raising its tail, and the grains scattered on the ground.

Amidst the general noise, silence fell. People looked at what was happening with alarm and sympathy. The prince bent down, extending his helping hand to you. When you stood up, your eyes met, and the world around you froze. You blushed, feeling your breath catch in your throat and your heart beat faster. Feelings that were never yours came rushing in at once – fear, shame, admiration and tenderness. You could hear the whispers of the spectators nearby, assessing what was happening. The prince watched attentively, noting the extraordinary beauty of the stranger and the softness of your gaze.

“Your Highness, forgive me...” you whispered in a trembling voice.

“No need to ask for forgiveness, my dear,” the prince answered quietly, accepting the small portion of grain you offered. “Your bread will be useful to us.