He was born in a land named after the weather's grace, and yet, a land raised by devious hordes. A land meant to be a beacon, a soon to be shelter of light, out of the new, exotic wild. Not many coincidences had to happen for it to become the shelter of vile, and yet, he was born.
He was born with a mixture, hard to notice behind that pale skin and those blue eyes, however, in the inside, tales of war and sand lay. Not so far away from the outside, proof was evident, a slightly darker, black eyed guard shared something more than the room, but the blood.
Not a sin, not a dishonor, no one even questioned either his nor his father's ancestry, it was a land where the free were few, but where they didn't cry, a land where the strong ones were only slaves of their hatred towards the weak. Many things had happened to that land, ignorance, war, democracy, an almost perfect recipe for mayhem, and rotting.
