I was abandoned by my parents at a young age. I can't recall whether I'm Hansetian, Kaedreni or Imperial but it does not matter to me. I was raised in the streets by various families and monasteries, some better than others. Some times I had a hard time finding shelter inside so I took to the streets, I was a street urchin. Until a certain Knight from Kaedrin took pity upon me and let me become his personal squire, he was the closest thing i had to a friend/father, and sometimes he would even let me fight with him. In my teenage years I grew accustomed to road-side camps and taverns, always on the move. One inconspicuous day as we were on our way to the Capital of Helena, we were set upon by an ambush force of Irrinor elf troops. It was all chaotic and before I had time to pick up my sword, with which I was adept at this point, the Knight was already wounded but the retinue managed to regardless repel the attackers. Ever since that fateful day I swore revenge on the Elven people. Having been sent back to the capital as I had no one to ride with, I took to alcohol and theology. The only two things I found peace in. I studied the religion of the Canon and found in it solace, as it added to my sense of patriotism and hatred to other races. The next night I would spend in a tavern, forgetting about the troubles of the day. I still find it ironic, but somehow I made do, until I ran out of coin. I used what skills I had left - the sword and the spear - and enlisted in the Empire as a mercenary against the AIS Coalition as part of the ongoing Rubern War.
