He is of Highlander stock, and came into the world near the hills of Karosgrad as snow fell. He has no particular love for the city as most of his life was spent coming and going on paths with his mother and their trade caravan. He was made lean over the years and learned a good many things over the years amongst those who came to buy and more so from those he helped on their endless voyage of sales. His mother's family the Warterlights and their other fellow caravanners got by humbly but he himself was afforded a basic education from infrequent tutors thanks to his estranged father. Ordinarily, a child should have his father's surname but such is not possible to bastards, what few encounters they all had as a family were few but happy. Given the nature of time and life, peace is not a thing that lasts, and in a caravan raid, his mother fell slain. Its been some years since then and he has processed his grief but now that they have again returned to the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska he bids what remains of his mothers family well as he is now of age and has decided putting down roots as a better plan then awaiting a rouges arrow in his back. Perhaps he can even pass on the news to his blood father if he could track him down but all in time. May as well establish an enterprise, learn what he can from a trade, a refresher on history, and even to be good at Haeseni Chess.
*The young man stops his walk but keeps his proper posture. would raise a surprised brow on instinct and after lowering it after a short pause would speak on with a casual grin and polite candor* "Why not all three? Although I'm in no rush and prefer to stay staff, one can never avoid risk or assure safety." *He would grasp his chin in thought with his left as he spoke on.* "Regardless the names Fickle and it seems we are sure to be fast friends." *He would offer his right hand out for a traditional shake.*
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