Adran Triveron (Whitewood Forest, Geraldis)
"No it's fine. No one's ever asked me before. Plus it'll be good for you to understand what the city is like." It was the first real time in three years he's thought back to his old life. "Let's see, where to begin? Well, My mother and father were united in an arranged marriage that was supposed to help both families, but really only helped my father jump higher on the social ladder. I was born out of obligation, my father needed an heir to his house, my father wouldn't even speak to my mother after I was born."
"As I grew up, father would take me to all the gatherings of the noble's court, telling me to observe and consider why each noble said what they said, what angles they were operating on, and who was in an alliance with whom, he also taught me in the way of the sword though I never really excelled at it due to being farsighted. He was very strict, instructing me to show no mercy to my enemies, but feign respect amongst 'temporary' allies, for one needed to be trusted before he could successfully stab his friends in the back, his words not mine." He took on a look of disgust as he said these words. "I hated it all, it was the rich trying to get richer, with no thought given to the struggling families of the lower levels. I did get to witness an assassination in the courtroom one time. That was, cathartic."
"My mother though... she was the complete opposite, she loved the world around her and worked her hardest to preserve it. I thought she was a saint from the heavens. She was the one who first taught me how to heal the wounded when we found an injured sparrow and nursed it back to health. When my father didn't require my attendance she would take me through the lower quarters, wanting me to understand the plight of those who were less fortunate than I. She'd give beggars in the streets coin, and even sneak loafs of bread from our kitchens for them to eat." He smiled as he remembered her.
But then his face grew anguished. "Then... the sickness came. My mother began throwing up uncontrollably and her skin grew clammy. The royal doctors identified it as Cholera, and informed my father and I that there was nothing they could do. I was fifteen when she died." A few tears started to slide down his cheeks before he regained his composure. "After she left this world, I chose to continue her dream of helping those less fortunate. I traversed the lower quarters for five years seeking out all kinds of local healers and learning their ways, I even learned from a few upper level doctors, say what you want about the nobility, they had superb medical treatment. They taught me everything I know about being a medic."
"My father would berate me for hours, saying I was wasting my time, slinging the family name through the mud, but I didn't care. I had found fulfillment for the first time in my life. then one night, he'd had enough, my father beat me until near unconsciousness and told me that I would be locked away in my room until I started acting in a way that was 'acceptable'. I only stayed a week to let my injuries heal. Then I broke the window of my bedroom and used my bed sheets to climb down, luckily it wasn't very high up. From there I hid amongst the common folk for two years, seeking refuge in the homes of the healers I once apprenticed under, never staying in one place for more than two months for fear of being discovered."
"I eventually decided to leave the city and find the Guardians, my mother had told me the old stories of their heroics centuries ago and I thought that your cause was worth fighting for. I managed to sneak onto a caravan to Geraldis and.. well, you know the story after I found the Fortress."
