Mc_Rick

 "A merchant's life is truly free, for he has all the world to see." That's a short tune my father would sing whenever we would we pass a particularly beautiful sight on our travels. My parents were merchants who joined the profession not for the money, but rather for the chance to see the world at large and experience all of its pleasantries. One story my mother loved to tell us was about the time our father earned back their entire savings after a long night of dice by placing a final wager, all or nothing, using a small common gem that he convinced the barkeep was actually an exotic crystal from a different nation. Even as a child I told my mother that they were lucky that barkeep didn't just keep the money.

They eventually settled from their lavish, mobile, lifestyle to raise two children in the countryside using the savings they had accrued over the years and hadn't lost to their hedonistic tendencies; which was still a sizable sum. Once my sister and I were old enough our parents quickly taught us all about the life of the traveling merchant; from my father, it was always long-winded lectures about cost-benefit analysis and market predictions, while my mother taught us through the stories she wove about the people, places, and experiences they had on the journies amidst their trade. Eventually, we uprooted from our small cottage and joined the mercantile lifestyle as a family. With the money they made from selling our house, our parents bought a caravan and we set off with a carriage full of wares.

As I grew I became more observant than most; life was full of beauty but also full of danger that my parents did not seem to convey well in their stories. The beauty of the natural world and the fun to be had in certain cities, with a bit of coin, was in sharp contrast with the long nights spent defending the horses from wolves and dealing with the unscrupulous individuals who were interested in the wares we would come by in our travels. I often felt like I was the one keeping the family alive really, especially as my parents grew older and spent more time enjoying themselves in towns rather than selling wares. My sister was a natural trader and our parents quickly allowed her to take over the stall we would set up in towns; her youth proved to be advantageous as she caught most off guard with her sharp tongue and ability to haggle. Our parents took care of the larger deals, such as those involving rare artifacts and expensive gems. My duties included moving wares and inspecting possible counterfeits(which I had a great eye for), but I also took on the title of bodyguard for my prodigious sister; you may be surprised by the number of grown men who would threaten a young girl who is besting them in a game of trade. Life went well for many years and our family business prospered.

Until one night.

It is still so vivid. My sister and I happily sauntered back to the caravan with our day's earnings to meet with our parents, but as we approached the carriage I noticed there were three figures standing by our carriage, lit only by a single torch being held by one of them. I stopped my sister and we made out the silhouette of our father with two male strangers. It was a possibility that they could be completing a trade arrangement, but they never made a deal so late in the evening. We approached the trio quietly and cautiously. I was near enough to see their dimly lit faces when I got the groups attention with a sharp 'Hello' that seemed to echo through the night. My father looked at me with a smile that quickly changed to a pained grimace as one of the men took the opportunity to run a blade through his chest. His body fell limp to the ground, my sister released a visceral scream, and I pounced upon my father's assailant with vengeful fury. The second, bulkier, man kicked me off his companion, instantly breaking a few of my ribs, as my mother emerged from behind the carriage and quickly slit his throat while yelling for my paralyzed sister to flee. The remaining attacker retaliated and cut down my mother as I groveled in pain, clutching my side. My sister dashed to our mother's body, tears streaming down her face. She yelled "you must live!" as she slid and kicked my mother's blade, soaking in crimson, towards me while deftly avoiding the first flash of steel aiming for her demise. I snatched up the blade and sprung to my feet. My hands trembled as I charged towards the man. I can't remember what happened next. It's as if I woke from a dream, but I'm on top of a man who is face down in the blood-soaked dirt with a steel blade sunk into his back. Around me lay the bodies of my family. I met my sister's gaze, she smiled, and she closed her eyes for the last time.

It's been about 7 years since that night. I've continued the family business as a solo practitioner, working enough in the towns to fund my sight-seeing expeditions and hobbies. Daily practice with sword and bow has become a part of my daily regimen and the skills have served me well in defending myself as well as others over the course of my solo ventures. Every night I repeat that tune my father whistled when we were children, but I've added a piece as a reminder.

"A merchant's life is truly free, for he has all the world to see.
His freedom comes with the price, of seeing the good and bad of life."

Lore-

Riveki's parents were both Farfolk who resided in Sutica and traveled with the Federation to Atlas. Riveki was born soon after and has lived the entirety of his life on Atlas.