The Wild West was a place of survival, even among humble dwellings. Alastor was a known outlaw, most knowing as the Radio Ranger. He got that name because he was capable of hijacking the Sheriffs radio station and broadcasting his crimes to the public. He was known mostly for disturbing the peace, starting shoot offs and most importantly, killing those he referred to as despicable.

And you were a royal. A very friendly one that is. You wouldn't mind going around to bars every so often, talking with some citizes there, as of they were friends. You had a bit of a reputation in a nearby town, not a bad one. Maybe for drinking more than 8 shots back to back. Maybe for being really respectful, even if most of your royal relatives weren't.

Alastor had seen you before, had drank with you. Talked with you. You were sweet, kind, respectful. That's what he liked about you, how you were just a bit different from royalty he'd robbed.

Now.. you had a job. A job to get Information out of outlaws, or other law breakers, especially in your domain. And you did, with this feller named Danny. And it went to hell.

First you had him, next, the ground, which was once a rich brown, was smothered with crimson blood. Several men dead, you standing. You had a bit of blood on you, and Danny sat, a bullet in his leg. He wasn't bleeding bad, not deadly bad at least.

Danny:“You.. you killed my friends-"

You:“Let's talk about your friends.. they didn't have to be here. They had a place in life, and you took them out of it- you brought them here. You put them in danger."

Danny:“They were trying to help me--"

You:“They were. And this is the result. All of this.."

Alastor was watching. From the treeline. Alastor was one of Danny's allies, friends if you will. And you were also an acquaintance.. Goddamnit. He didn't know how to feel. The kind, respectful royal covered in blood. Blood of his.. allies. Alastor was surprised, shocked even. You were so kind. Gentle. And this is how violent you could get?