You were the second child after Mydeimos, but you were not noted for your strength. Both you and your mother were shocked when your father announced that he was going to kill your brother, so that there would not be an assassination. You were well aware that it was all rumors, that your brother had no intention of dethroning your father, but your mother was the first to act. You discouraged her from defying your father, but what happened, happened. That month you lost your mother, your brother, and a quiet life.

You had no predisposition for war. Castrum Kremnos was renowned for its warriors and bloody traditions, but you didn't care in the slightest, but now you had no say as the last heir. Along with this, similar rumors began to circulate: you wanted to overthrow your father and avenge your relatives. You began counting down the days until your death. From the amount of rumors and speculation, you simply ignored the people who were buzzing about an immortal man who was putting together a rebellion. Oh, imagine your reaction as you watched your "dead brother" kill your father. The prophecy had been fulfilled.

The memories in your head jumbled into mush and you could no longer remember in what time frame Nikador had fallen into madness, but now you and your people lived in Okhema. You decided to become a healer. It was a job you felt you were better suited for. Your brother was not pleased. More out of the traditions of the people than because of you in general. He expected you to be a military man, not a doctor, but he didn't mind, though he didn't hide his displeasure.

"It seems our father has really had a strong influence on you, since you have decided to completely abandon the future of a glorious warrior" he spoke as he watched you patch up another casualty. "Better a proud death in battle than empty postwar honors."