Prince Zane brought his horse to a gentle stop beside a captivating freshwater spring, its waters a pristine mirror reflecting the ethereal glow of the evening sun. Set against the vast expanse of the white salt marsh, the spring shimmered under the golden light, creating an almost otherworldly beauty. As Zane leaned over to cleanse himself of the dirt and blood from his recent skirmish, his attention was drawn to a graceful silhouette. A girl was walking along a narrow pathway adjacent to the spring, her form outlined by the sun's soft, amber rays, moving steadily towards him.

The girl approached Prince Zane, her appearance embodying a natural, unadorned beauty that was captivating. She had a simplicity about her that was devoid of the grandeur and artifice typical of the palace. Her hair, as dark as a raven's wing, cascaded in loose waves down her back. Her skin, richly brown and sun-kissed, radiated a warm healthy glow, and her lips carried a soft, genuine smile that seemed to light up her entire face.

She was dressed in modest village attire – a plain, woven tunic paired with a skirt that fluttered around her ankles. There was an ease and grace in her movements, a stark contrast to the rigid formality Prince Zane was accustomed to in the palace.

For Prince Zane, this encounter was enchanting. She was the first person he had seen outside the select few allowed to interact with him within the palace walls. More than that, she was the first girl of his age he had ever met. Her presence was a breath of fresh air, stirring emotions and curiosities in him that he had never experienced before.

"Who are you? I've never seen you around here. You look injured," the girl said, her voice lively and full of curiosity. She rapidly fired off questions without waiting for responses, her words tumbling out in a continuous stream. "Were you attacked by a wild animal? But there aren't any wild animals here. Or were you attacked by bandits? You really shouldn't travel the marshlands alone; it's very risky. This spring is the furthest I ever go by myself – even I get scared beyond this point. You don't speak much, do you?" Her unyielding, curious gaze remained fixed on him, her voice a mix of concern and lively interest.

The Prince, amused by her barrage of questions, "I was attacked by a Thrayan demon creature." The girl instantly shifted into a mode of panic. "A Thrayan creature around these parts? Oh no, I need to inform the elders, and we have to call the Myrathian Hunters; only they can kill a demon creature." The Prince interrupted her, "No need to worry, the creature is dead. I killed it." The girl gave him a skeptical look, one that clearly said she thought he was jesting. "Yeah right, and you expect me to believe that?"

The Prince retorted, trying to assert his credibility, "Really, I'm Myrathian," he paused briefly, "I'm in the Myrathian Elite Army." The girl responded with a tone dripping with sarcasm, "Yeah right, with no armor, sword, or horse, you're a special kind of Myrathian soldier, aren't you?" Prince Zane glanced behind him, realizing his horse was gone. Shaking his head in disbelief, he muttered, "I had a horse. Myrathian horses apparently know when to stick around and when to leave their rider. For some weird reason, mine thinks I'm better off without her." He scanned the horizon, searching for his horse.

The girl sighed, seemingly resigning herself to what she believed were fanciful tales. "Come with me to the town; Healer Aunt will fix you up. But you'd better come up with a more believable story by then." Prince Zane attempted to protest, but words failed him. The girl started walking ahead. "Come quick, before the sun sets and it gets too dark. By the way, my name is Maya. What's yours?"

"Maya," Prince Zane echoed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hesitated briefly, then answered, "My name is Zaaaa—," pausing for a moment, "rin."

Maya turned around, a quizzical expression on her face. "Zaaaarin?"

Prince Zane corrected with a gentle smile, "No, just Zarin." He continued to follow Maya as they approached the town.

Just outside the town, they passed rows of large water bodies serving as reservoirs for the townspeople, nestled in the midst of the marshland. Small canals fed into these reservoirs, creating a network of waterways that reflected the town's advanced planning and ingenuity. Maya glanced at Zane, noticing his intrigued expression. "Wondering what these reservoirs are for? How do you think we survive in the middle of a salt marsh?" she asked with a hint of pride in her voice.

Stepping across an unseen boundary into Dovira, Maya spread her arms wide, her voice imbued with a mix of pride and warmth. "Welcome to Dovira, isn't it a beautiful town." she announced, her eyes sparkling with the same lively energy Zane had noticed earlier.

As they walked into Dholar, Zane observed the town's layout, the streets were laid out in a precise grid, intersecting at right angles. Houses built from sun-dried bricks lined the streets, their uniformity broken only by the occasional splash of color from hanging fabrics or painted doors. In the center of the town, a large public square bustled with activity, serving as a marketplace and social hub.

Maya continued to chat about the town and its inhabitants as Zane listened, a smile playing on his lips. She paused in front of a house where several people sat outside. It resembled a clinic, with its modest facade and a small gathering of townsfolk waiting patiently. "Here we are," Maya announced. "Healer Aunt is the best around. People from other towns come to see her too."

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Zane, unfamiliar with such customs, innocently walked towards the entrance. Maya, taken aback, quickly interjected, "Wait, what? Don't you see the queue outside?"

Zane, momentarily puzzled, took a moment to comprehend. He needed to wait his turn. Having been raised in the seclusion of the palace, he was unaccustomed to such everyday norms of the outside world.

Finally, it was Zane's turn. As he entered, he saw a woman in her early forties carefully dividing the payment received from the last patient into two equal parts, placing one half into a jar. Dressed in the simple yet practical garb of the village, she gestured for him to take a seat.

Maya introduced him as Zarin to the woman, known in the community as Healer Aunt. Her experienced eyes immediately fell upon the wounds on his leg. The bleeding had stopped, but the deep slashes were starkly evident. "What happened?" she asked, her voice a mixture of concern and professionalism.

Maya glanced playfully at Zane, expecting him to stumble over his words. Feeling a wave of nervousness and knowing he had to concoct a story, Zane replied, "I was attacked by bandits."

Healer Aunt scrutinized the injury closely. "Uhm, this doesn't look like a knife wound. It's more akin to a scratch from a wild creature," she observed. Her words caught Maya off guard, prompting her to cast a speculative glance at Zarin, reassessing his previous tale about a Thrayan creature.

Zane, sensing the need to elaborate, quickly added, "Yeah, they had an odd weapon, I guess. Made up of bones and nails, perhaps from one of those demon creatures from Thraya."

Healer Aunt prepared a medicinal paste, expertly blending various herbs and seeds, she applied it gently to the wound before wrapping it with a clean cloth. "This should prevent infection," she said soothingly. Then, peering up at him, she inquired, "Where are you from? Do you have a place to stay?"

Zane hesitated, his mind searching for a plausible story. Noticing his struggle, Maya quickly stepped in, her voice laced with playful teasing. "Zarin was traveling with a group of pilgrims to Mount Kangrin but got separated. I suspect he's either a bit slow and tires easily, or perhaps his group just wanted to ditch him," she giggled with a twinkle in her eye. "And then, those bandits must have seen him as an easy target, attacking him and taking everything. So he can't even pay you, isn't that right, Zarin?"

Healer Aunt chuckled, glancing toward Zane with a knowing smile. "Just ignore her," she said warmly, then turned to Maya. "Take him to George's Inn. He should rest there for a while." Maya nodded in agreement, her spirits lifted. "Yes, next stop, Uncle George's!" she declared cheerfully and headed towards the door, Zane slowly following her.

The entrance to George's Inn was inviting, with a sturdy, wooden door set into a warmly lit facade. The sign above creaked gently in the evening breeze, proclaiming hospitality to all who passed. As Maya and Prince Zane stepped inside, the cozy interior welcomed them. Prince Zane's gaze was immediately drawn to a jar similar to the one he'd noticed earlier, sitting prominently on the counter.

Maya's voice, brimming with enthusiasm, broke the quiet. "Hello Uncle George, meet Zarin. He's a pilgrim who got ambushed by bandits and is without shelter. I thought he could stay here. Maybe he can pay off his stay by helping out with some chores, like laundry?" She gave Uncle George a playful wink. Zane opened his mouth to object, his unfamiliarity with laundry apparent, but then, considering his situation, he resigned with a silent nod.

Uncle George,with his broad shoulders and a welcoming smile framed by a grizzled beard, greeted Zane, "Welcome to my humble inn. I'll ensure you have a comfortable place to stay." Zane, intrigued by his new surroundings, noticed a jar similar to the one at Healer Aunt's. Curiously, he inquired, "What is this jar for?"

George sighed, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "That jar? We place half of our daily earnings in it, as required by Myrathian law here. Each night, the Myrathian Marshals come to collect it. It's a tax we've to pay to Myrathians, though it's far from fair."

Zane responded in disbelief, "That can't be right. The palace laws only demand a 20% tax, as per the Myrathian Tax Code. Why are you paying half your earnings? You should report this to the Palace."

George chuckled, though his laughter was tinged with bitterness. "Write to Palace? To the old grieving King who still hasn't gotten over the death of his sons after 20 years or to the cowardly prince who is afraid to even step out of the Palace." trying to calm himself, "We've tried, son. But those who run things from the palace are in on this too."

Zane felt a pang of dismay, realizing his ignorance of the kingdom's workings. "When does the next messenger leave?" he asked.

George paused to think, then said, "What day is it today? Right, there's one departing tonight. He'll be here to pick up my letters." In each village, messengers were tasked with riding through various towns, ensuring the couriering of letters to their respective destinations.

"Perfect, I have a letter that needs sending. I know someone in the palace who can put an end to this," Zane declared with newfound determination.

George tried to dissuade him, "It's best not to stir trouble, lad. We've made peace with giving up half our earnings. In return, they keep bandits at bay."

Zane retorted, "Protecting you from bandits is their duty, for which they are well compensated. What's to stop them from demanding more in future?"

Maya chimed in with a laugh, "Looks like we've got a rebel on our hands."

Ignoring her jest, Zane grabbed a piece of paper and began to write. Maya, ever curious, attempted to glance at his letter, teasing, "Dear Uncle Halen, I am safe and I..." Zane gave her a stern look, stopping her mid-sentence.

Zane looked at George, "Just tell me when the messenger arrives."

In the ensuing days, Zane found himself enveloped in the fabric of the town's life. Enchanted by Maya's incessant and spirited dialogues, he began to see the world through the lens of the townsfolk—a perspective far removed from the secluded grandeur of his upbringing.

He lent a hand where he could, from assisting in the daily chores to participating in the local customs and festivities. His efforts to integrate were met with warmth and acceptance, allowing him to forge meaningful connections with people who were once strangers.For Zane, these days were a revelation, a cherished interlude that allowed him to experience the joys of friendship, the satisfaction of hard work, and the beauty of simple pleasures.

However, the peaceful days came to an abrupt end one morning when the noise of the Myrathian Marshals filled the town center. Drawn by the commotion, the townsfolk congregated in the main square, their expressions a blend of curiosity and concern. Unbeknownst to them, the Fall of their beloved Dovira was around the corner.