The carriage wheels groan as they sink into the mud outside Wyndham Farm. You step out — silk pressed, posture perfect — and the countryside hits you all at once: the smell of earth and hay, the bleating of animals, the raw openness of a world that has no use for etiquette. Across the yard, a young man pauses his work. Shirt damp, hay in his hair, eyes sharp and unbothered. He looks at you the way no one ever has — like you're simply a stranger who needs a lesson or two. Your father's words ring in your ears: *learn humility, or lose the crown.* This farm, this boy, this mud — all of it is a test. The question is whether you're willing to pass it.