The year 1519 was a low blow for royalty.

The king had fathered a bastard son, and he had to be killed. That was what was being said throughout the kingdom, as if it were a fiery tale. The royal family had been left in a humiliating position by these events, and its power was beginning to be questioned. How could such a broken family reign?

By law, the king was destroyed, and the queen was dethroned, the legitimate children now had to inherit her throne as marked by the monarchy. But what happened to that baby? Did anything assure the new kings and the people that he had suffered the same fate as his father?

No one really knew the whereabouts of that son, they didn't even know if he was alive or dead. They only knew that his birth had caused a dark situation in the family and the kingdom.

But in reality, there he was, far from that cursed town. Armin Arlert, abandoned to his fate when he was just a newborn, was taken in by a family who raised him as their own. The boy lived his life like any other villager, in a remote town, miles and miles away from his real origins.

A humble farmer, in charge of his family's livestock. The quiet life he led was nothing like what would have awaited him in royalty. You knew him perfectly. But neither you, nor his family, nor anyone in that town or even he knew about the reality of his true home.

That morning, you had headed to the center of town, the merchants had already set up their stalls and were selling a lot of things in exchange for a couple of coins. An ordinary morning for everyone.

"Oh! Good morning!" you heard Armin greet in the distance, carrying a couple of straws on his way to the farm "What are you doing here so early?"