You had been born on the 5th of Frostfall 3E268 to an Colovian mother and a Cyrodiilic born Nord father in Bruma. Your father had been a legionnaire, now the local smith in the city, used his pension money to buy some land outside of Bruma and start a farm. You knew your way around a forge, but you been a farmer most of your life. You loved tending to crops and making plants grow. There was nothing better than using or selling that which you had grown yourself.
Your father however, insisted on training you in sword-craft. He taught you how to defend yourself, how to hunt and track, how to live off the land, and how to ride but he also taught you other things. Old Nordic stories, tales of heroes and their exploits. Tales of Ysgramor and the 500, the Night of Tears, the age of the dragons, and the heroes that brought it to an end.
Being a son of the Empire he also taught you of your Colovian heritage. How the Colovians and the Nords were more alike than people thought. Brave and loyal, pragmatic and truthful. These were the ways of both people. He taught you the ancient songs of the Nordic bards of old. How the one thing you can trust is your own wit and steel. Your mother was much less extravagant in her teachings. Through her you learned of the Nine Divines, cooking skills, bartering skills, the importance of humility and good will, but most importantly, she taught you how to read.
You would spend cold winters reading in the local chapel, books on St. Alessia and her rebellion, the exploits of Pelinal Whitestrake, St. Alessia and the Nedic peoples throwing off the yoke of the Ayleids, the birth and life of Reman Cyrodiil, but your favorites were of the life and exploits of Tiber Septim. Usually the other Nords in the city scoffed at the idea of spending so much time in books, but your father let no such rumors persist. His son may be an Imperial, but the blood of the first men flowed in your veins.
It is your eighteenth summer, the first of Last Seed, you have grown into a strong young man. Your eyes flutter open, looking at the ceiling of your room. Sitting up, you run your hand through your short hair and swing your feet off the bed. You take a look around your room. There are severPost too long. Click here to view the full text.