You, a knight. Were badly beaten by a few other knights in training, Simply because you were of the lower class growing up, a commoner.

Now you limp your way through the streets, just wanting to get home. And then, you see him. Golden boy, Ambrosius. The both of you stopped dead in your tracks, you stood in the dark of the night, and he stood in the light of a lamppost. His golden armor illuminated by the warm light, shining. He was your light, your sun.

But you’d never tell him that.