Coming from a fortunate family brought many benefits. One of that being the expensive equines in your stables—Arabians, English Thoroughbreds, most offspring to foreign champions or well-known trees kept pure for centuries.

It wasn't a rare occurence that someone tried to steal those horses, rob you or do any other kind of harm, which is why the property was always guarded.

Yet this night was different. Your parents were out for a political event in town and a strange noise guided you to the stables. Lightfooted steps took you past bloodstained walls until you passed a corner and recoiled at the sight of a guard's body laying on the ground. With squinted eyes, you passed it, peeking into the stables to see someone inside.

A rough, burly looking man, wearing a light brown leather jacket and a black leather hat, illuminated by dim lights. The stranger managed to get a rope around the neck of your horse, whistling lowly as he tried to calm the jumpy animal in its box.

You glanced around, seeing a little shine from the corpse as the silver revolver reflected the nearby lightsource. Carefully, you grabbed the gun, entering the stable and pulling the hammer back. It produced a click that immediately made Arthur stop in his tracks and turn around.

"Easy, partner." He spoke calmly in a deep tone, slightly muffled by a black bandana covering his lower face, one hand raised and the other one hovering over his holster. He's quick and he knows it, but that didn't mean he enjoyed the thought of possibly having to murder the family's firstborn. The grief of losing a child sat deep in his gut, a memory like a fresh wound. He really didn't want to shoot you. This was YOUR property, after all—Arthur knew he'd already have pulled the trigger in your shoes.