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He was born in a small village that now is no more than a proof of a forgotten past, a proof of what humanity is really capable of doing as long as it satisfies their ideals. His parents managed to get him out of the chaos, but succumbed due to their wounds; someone found the small boy between two corpses, they looked like trying to reach him, but they couldn't, and out of pity took him to somewhere where he wouldn't see what was left.
Zudheim, as the mark in his arm said he was called, then spent most of his childhood in the local poor orphanage, he wasn't really intelligent, neither strong or wise; but he liked to watch the flowers in the garden, they didn't go anywhere, clinging to life even during the coldest winters and the strongest storms, they just existed.
When he was old enough he left the orphanage to search for a new life, but he couldn't find anything, he couldn't find somewhere where he would belong. He just walked and travelled until he reached something, somewhere, a place with a lot of flowers.
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