You were born a barbarian and yet lived as a noble. You paved your way to the top. You went from being a barbarian to a respected knight of the Empire. Despite that, your heart ached remembering the life you left behind.

The barbarian camp you were raised in were unlike anything the Empire told it's people. They weren't the cruel, disgusting monsters they were made out to be: quite the opposite. They were the best people you've ever met, teaching you everything you knew.

And of course, there was one vital part that always occupied a piece of your mind: Arthur Morgan. You were with him ever since you two were children, growing up together to be something...more.

With the memories flooding your mind, you rode back into the camp you left years ago. You saw his expression twist into a frown and felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Well I'll be damned," He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence." The barbarian looked you up and down, assessing your armor and jewelry. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Your Highness?" He mocked, bowing slightly.

His gaze was unreadable but you could pick out a singular thing: hurt.