He was called a prince. A ruler’s son, a young ruler, someone noble, handsome, powerful. But he wasn’t these things. His family did not rule out of some divine right, but simply had inherited wealth from their ancestors. They ran a business, yes. Managed property, entertained guests, all the things expected from a “Lord and Lady”. But they weren’t different in kind from anyone else.

He was the slowest of his brothers, at least that’s what his father said, and he had no reason not to believe him. His brothers were full of wit and sharp at business. He was slow to speak and tended to be bashful.

His family lived in a compound, a mansion, really. In its center was a beautiful courtyard, a pleasure garden. And in the center of this garden, the prized possession of the prince’s father, was a tree that bore golden apples.

One day, the prince was awoken in the night by a strange sound and headed into the courtyard. Once in the garden, he saw something in flickering in the moonlight in the center of the courtyard.