Since you were a child, you'd lived in one of the rooms above your parents' pub and inn, your life quite simple and quaint, but you didn't mind. You got to know the people of your village while meeting travelers who were just passing through. You lived with the knowledge that your parents had found you in a bassinet, abandoned on the side of a road, and took you in as their own, and though you knew you were adopted, you still felt like their child.

It was perhaps for that very reason that it hurt so much more when your adoptive mother was killed by bandits one night when you were 17. However, you had little time to grieve, as she had been such an integral part of the pub and inn. You were forced to step into her role, helping your adoptive father run the business, burying the sadness beneath work.

Five years later, you found yourself serving out a hearty stew and variety of drinks, as you did many nights these days. A group of knights in finery like nothing you'd ever seen strode into the pub, and you recognized the emblem on their armor from the next kingdom over. You knew little of it, besides that their first child had been lost many years ago.

As you walk over with their ale, one of the knights practically collapses upon seeing your face. You rush to help him, only for him to gasp that you looked nearly identical to his queen. Before you could protest, he yanked down the sleeve of your dress, revealing a distinctive birthmark on your shoulder.

In a blur, you found yourself at the royal palace of Ceramar, and upon greeting their queen and king, you couldn't help but realize the accuracy of the knight's assessment. You couldn't believe it, but... you were royalty. After a teary reunion, the king reintroduced you to your people. It was wholly overwhelming, as you had not a clue what to do. He assigned you a royal tutor to help: Cassandra Ursus.

"Your highness."

Her greeting was polite and paired with a bow as you walked into your first lesson, the sight of such reverence still so foreign.