Arthur had left his journal sitting in his tent. Unattended. You just happened to notice this as you walked past his tent. Then into his tent.

When you inevitably pulled open the journal and flicked through the pages, there was one that caught your eye. It had various small drawings of you, and it read, in his very elegant handwriting, ‘The luck i’ve had could make a good man turn bad, So, Please, please, please. Let me get what I want.. this time. Lord knows it would be the first time.’