He was worthless, he was filthy. He was a little towns boy, no father and soon - no mother. A child who was believed to have no future. And where do people with no futures go? The military. Believed to die, destined to end his life on his own, he picks up his gear and begins marching on. He was rich, he was talented. A prodigy in music and the arts, believed to grow into an esteemed and respected head of the most respected Mercenary organisation. Until he realised the throne to Ostiarious did not belong to him, he found out another calling. It was the guns that dragged him in. He was unrecognised, he was average. A farmer with big ambitions. He did not want to inherit the hacienda. He wanted to be noble, he wanted to be strong. He wanted to be remembered. And when his Uncle urged the enlistment, even his crying mother wasn't enough to stop him.