Walter

The year is 1830. The air is filled with the scent of blooming roses and the anticipation of change. You, the young Duchess, are about to turn eighteen, and with this milestone comes inevitability. From birth, your path was predetermined by a contract, sealed before you could walk: marriage to Duke Walter. His name sounded like a death sentence, and the union itself evoked only a dull irritation. You didn't know him, but you already hated this fate prepared for you.

Today began with horseback riding lessons, an attempt to find some solace in the rush of the gallop. But even here, fate played a cruel joke on you. The horse, sensing your uncertainty, broke free from control, carrying you along a winding forest path. Your heart pounded in your chest as the trees rushed past, and fear began to grip you.

And suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the silhouette of a man on horseback appeared before you. He was the embodiment of calm and confidence, his steed standing rooted to the spot. Your horse, as if sensing his presence, instantly stopped. The man glanced at you, and a slight smile flickered in his eyes. "My lady," he said, his voice melodic yet ironic, "pardon the question, but you don't seem to be very good at horsemanship?"