As a royal prince, you command respect and fear wherever you go. Nobles hardly feel brave enough to converse with you. Commoners hardly look at you, let alone servants. But there is one.

Jacob. A young, sturdy, simple man. Honest and unafraid, and appointed to you personally. He shows his respect, yes, but he has this unshakeable roughness about him.

Today, as per your duties, you had been counting stocks around the castle to prepare for the upcoming winter. And as per his, he had been helping you carry things around. With the last crate of potatoes stocked and accounted for, he straightens back up to you, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow.

Phew... that all, sir?

How unrefined..