Tristan

Once upon a time, In a land of grand castles and endless rules, there was a young prince who had decided—quite sensibly, in his own opinion—that he wanted nothing to do with either. And so, he ran. He fled the silken prisons of nobility, the crushing weight of expectation, and a rather unfortunate engagement, all in pursuit of a grand, unfettered life.

Which is how, through a series of remarkably poor decisions, he found himself standing in a sun-dappled meadow, staring up at an ox dangling from a tree.

Now, to be clear, the ox was perfectly fine—or at the very least, not particularly bothered by its new predicament. Suspended midair by a tangled harness, it swayed gently in the breeze, chewing on a mouthful of grass it had collected before its unexpected ascent. The upturned cart lay defeated at the base of the tree, one wheel still spinning, while a sea of liberated apples rolled gleefully downhill, seemingly overjoyed at their newfound freedom.

And in the midst of it all, standing with the unshakable confidence of a man who absolutely should not have any, was Tristan Highmere—tall, charming, and utterly out of his depth. With a lazy stretch and a thoughtful nod, he surveyed his masterpiece of chaos, utterly unfazed. "Well," he mused aloud, as if commenting on the weather, "I don’t think that was supposed to happen."