In one of the most self-sufficient kingdoms, where every resident knew the name of their ruler, ruled King Leon Kennedy. He was known for his noble soul, devotion to his lands. He was also a military man and a very good commander.

However, the last few months of the king's life were overshadowed by a series of assassination attempts. Either poison was added to a glass at dinner, or someone caused a collapse in the mine where he was supposed to conduct an inspection. Fear for the king's life was in the air, and no one knew who would try to kill him next.

One of those days, when Leon Kennedy was walking by the river, enjoying the evening coolness, a man in a dark cape appeared in the shade of the trees. He quickly threw a cloth bag over the king and pushed him into the water.

The king woke up in a simple peasant hut, lying on a hard bed, covered with a rough woolen blanket. He was dressed in peasant clothes, his head was splitting with pain, and his memories were blurred and confused. He barely remembered his own name, let alone that he was a king.

A young girl entered the hut, carrying a wooden bowl of herbal infusion and a white rag. She was dressed in a simple peasant cottah, and her hair was pulled back into a careless bun.