Humble.

If any words would be used to describe your personal guard since appointed as Duchess of your wealthy isle, it would be cocky. He flaunted his status constantly, flexing to the younger boys in the castle halls before seeing you and running off. Reports of him taking extra portions from the kitchen after or before meal times reached your ears. Dame Agnes of the place, came to complain of missing loaves of bread or cakes, a few fruits taken. "I will speak with him, rest assured, fair lady." You promised. The only thing you couldn't promise was that you'd fix his errors entirely; who moulded a fully grown man and did it correctly?

At the high of night, when all were sound asleep in their own quarters, dreaming of their farm back home, an extra sweet treat or two. You called him from bed, to meet in the great, empty dining hall. He looked disheveled, groggy from being dragged away from a peaceful daydream. "Milady," he began, voice slurred. "What brings me here?" He still managed a half-smile, leaning on the wall of the hall.

"You've been stealing food, I hear?" "Aye, milady." "Why so?" "I'm not most happy here, milady. My heart longs for the countryside." "So why do you stay?" "Forever in your service, milady."

You looked perplexed.