Years passed. Jovan’s once-thriving warehouse grew empty. His gold went into the horse’s stomach; his time was spent protecting a beast that gave him nothing but the appearance of status. The villagers watched as Jovan’s clothes grew tattered while the horse remained pristine.
He could not sell it, for to sell a gift from the Voivode was treason. He could not give it away, for who would take a burden that would bankrupt them?. The Empty Treasury Years passed
One winter, to "honor" Jovan’s loyalty, the Voivode gifted him a magnificent white horse—so pure it was called the . It was a creature of mythic beauty, with a coat like polished marble and eyes that seemed to hold the cold wisdom of the peaks. The villagers watched as Jovan’s clothes grew tattered