''In the desert, the line between life and death is sharp and quick.''
Ze`er quote
Ze`erland. The desert. The Barren, the Empty and the Void, the material definition of ''freedom''. This is where I was born. Forty-one years ago, the world was quiet. Or should I say ''our world''? Back then, the desert admitted but only one universe, its own. Ze`erland was the universe, and the universe was the Ze`er. People knew of other places, but.. they had little to share with the outside world.
My father, Jaccobus de la Rey, was a member of the aristocracy, external affairs counselor to sheikh Alfons of Tarmis. Esteemed by both nobility and those from inferior classes, my father was a popular figure. Too popular, I`d say. My mother, Helene, sister of King Alfons, died four years after my birth. I don`t have memories of her. My father, even if he had countless mistresses, never loved another woman after her death. I have no siblings, at least none to know about.
When I was fifteen years old, my father died in a so-called hunting accident. It wasn`t even a secret; everybody knew it was the hand of lord Vithimir of Taiphaleia, stepbrother of sheikh Alfons. So eager was he to avenge a public humiliation after being exposed by my father as a traitor ,for trading weapons with the Koson rebel leaders. In the end, king Alfons pardoned his kin, but the treacherous bastard never forgot my father`s immixture. He paid off our family`s hunting staff, and the head of House de la Rey met his end alone, slaughtered by a pack of shades in the valley of Wadeen Karhala.
My father`s death coincided with the end of Ze`erland`s universe, freedom. In the next months, shaikh Alfons was dethroned. Once all-powerful ruler of the Ze`erland, Alfons was beheaded alongside with most of his family and retainers, in one bloody night. His stepbrother, amir Vithimir, claimed the throne and in the following weeks eradicated with the help of the army all popular and aristocratic resistance across the Ze`er. All still loyal to house de la Rey were locked in the dungeons or simply put to death on sight, my family`s land was taken as a royal feud, under direct administration of the shaikh. I managed to escape the raid, being taken under the protection of one of my father`s few retainers left alive. Before this, I heard many rumours that Sothir was actually one of my father`s bastards, but... then again, he`s dead, together with all my family and relatives. I wouldn`t have who to ask if he was truly my stepbrother. I never asked him why did he save me from my family`s henchmen.
Sothir took me to his mother`s country, far up to the north. Ten years of my life were spent in a cottage, in the middle of the Tali'Ahrmuin Forest, or as the locals call it, "the Mad Forest". This was the place were I learned to tame the animals, I learned to survive in the wilderness, I learned the ways of the sword and bow.. My tutor, having never forgotten my heritage and the blood that goes through my veines, also thought me a lot regarding the world outside of the forest and made me read book after book. History fascinated me, for I found innumerous stories of betrayal like mine. Man should learn more from stories long gone passed.
Sixteen years ago, Sothir died. This time, the killer was old age. Before his eyes were shut for the final time, he showed me where he kept the chronicles of my family, alongside with my father`s sword and many more pergaments. He told me in which direction I should leave and made me swear that I`ll burn down the cottage and leave without ever coming back. So I did.
After three years of wandering around the world aimlessly, one event changed my perspective and gave me a reason to live. In the lands of Hurlandia (back then ravaged by civil war) I was taken prisoner by a loyalist company fighting under the command of captain Temur Dabatopienos. Wasn`t long enough until he admitted I was not against his ostracized king, but a vagabond caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. My fighting skills and tenacity (I had Sothir to thank for them) convinced Temur to offering me a chance to enroll in the ranks of his men, the Hurl Reiters. It was either this or death, so it`s futile to explain why and what my decision was at that point.
The years passed by. I fought in many wars - the loyalists were defeated, but the Reiters weren`t disbanded. They were outcast, yes, mercenaries, of course, but under the command of Temur Dabatopienos we never broke our oaths, never changed our allegiance. I spent twelve years fighting alongside them. I clilmber the chain of command and soon I was Efdal Bashar - 'column' commander and second to Dabatopienos. But those who live by the sword, die by the sword. The Hurl Reiters - the Free Company - met their end three weeks ago, in a last stand against the hordes of Ulus Kali. We had the chance of surrendering and keep our lives at the cost of our honor, but not one of us took it.
Miraculously, I survived. As I was running away from a search party of Ulus raiders (I am not ashamed to admit this - one should make a difference between bravery, courage and stupidity) I reached the Paper Cabin. There I took shelter, and what I`ve learned in that remote place changed my life.
I am I, for I am here. Adsum, bi-la kaifa.
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