Chapter I, 'The value of blood.'

Born of wealthy blood in a small yet prospering village, Kardeich had all opportunities set before him in chiseled stone. Both his mother and father led a successful mercantile business; selling fine foreign cloth, haggled locally for high prices. At a young age, he was instructed by private scholars and foreign trade experts intended to lecture him about business. Since the beginning both parents had plans that, one day, the young man would assume his role as the business partner. That was never the boy's intention, however, as he saw appeal in the arts of healing the unfortunate and wounded. Every day, for many years, 'Kard' would spend hours watching the local priest tend to those with ailments. It was as clockwork; the morning would begin, the academics were concluded, and he would rush to the healer's hut until dusk. Then, upon his arrival home, receive disdain and scrutiny from both mother and father until the next morning came. As he grew older and more assured in his desire, the insults and clamoring were unfiltered. They made statements of wishing another son, claiming he misused their generosity through the years. Finally, he was barred from visiting the local healer; commanded by his father's escort, leading him at all times. One night, nearing the date that would officiate manhood, his father summoned him at their manor dining hall. It was time for him to make decisions about his future and where his commitments would reside. There he sat, straight across the long table with various seats; awaiting the prompts of his father. As such, the conversation began with an unsettling stare from the older and more brutal man: "It is time you cease your stupid pursuits and join the Delad Trading Company." Came the strict, forward tone. The dialogue was prolonged, ripe with demands and snipes of character which heated every yell. However, the man stood his ground and refused to take the mantle that his father set before him. Silence came for a few long moments as the two stared each other down; the air was thick, almost tangible. "Then you are not welcome here any longer." His father stated, clear as a cloudless sky. A subtle gesture ensued, following the cold words, "Remove him from my sight. Cast him into the wilderness." Without any warning, the two men grabbed Kardeich by the shoulders and dragged him out of the manor. They left him in the nearby woods, proceeding to beat and batter him ruthlessly so that nature could do it's deed. Upon the hardened soil, there he laid broken and unmoving from the assault -- wishing, perhaps, for death. An outcast with no name, no wealth, set into the land without guidance nor hope to sustain. "You're no son of mine." The words repeated endlessly; that seething, biting tone at the back of his head. No matter how far past some events, they will always remain within the confines of consciousness. Sometimes, chosen words would scar deeper than knotted blades.