In one of the minor houses of House Orlovsky, there was a similarly minor scandal when Roan was born between the lord and a scullery maid in his employ. The maid, refusing responsibility for the child, and hoping to see him have a better life than hers, persuaded the lord to take care of the child, much to the chagrin of his wife. Nevertheless, the boy Roan was taken into the House to be raised.
Years past, and with exception to his noble status, he was a fairly normal, boring child. His status as third in line and bastard to boot meant that he had little aspirations of taking the leadership of the house as anything more than a distant pipe-dream. This content if somewhat boring life was brought to a sudden and abrupt end with the news that the true wife of the lord of the house had just given birth to her third son. In a spat of spite mixed with wanting her new child to be more the merely the fourth son in line, put an ultimatum to her husband: The bastard leaves. You can take responsibility and decide how this happens, or I'll do it and you'll have no say.
Having already tested his wife's patience enough times through the six years he had raised Roan, the lord decided that this wasn't a fight he'd win any longer. For a fortnight, Roan's father disappeared on an unexplained trip. When he returned, Roan was ushered out into the night with narry a word and was led to a temple of Irori. His father had thought that perhaps the quiet life of contemplation and self-mastery would be good for a wayward child, and would have the added benefit of keeping the child firmly locked away. For the previous fortnight, the father had stood vigil outside the rural temple beseeching the monks inside to take his child under their wing. Eventually, deciding the man's persistence must've lent some level of gravity to the situation, they relented.
Roan entered this new life with hardly any understanding of what had happened, all he was told by the back of his father was, "This is your home now." The boy quickly fell into a depressive sulk, that left most of the monks baffled as to how to respond, all but one. A monk named Renault decided to give the boy a task to take his mind off of his woes. The task was simple, everyone in the temple was seeking to improve themselves, so learn about them, and help them grow. The boy, reluctant at first, quickly found himself involving himself in the task as much as possible. Finding little details here, there, and with a little bit of skullduggery, the boy began bringing back little reports to Renault on the others in the temple, what their problems were. Most of the reports were honestly of no value, but Renault praised the child regardless, and soon Roan began to hone his skills in this task he had been given, and unknowingly lifted himself out of his despair.
Time went on, and as his talents for sussing out others weaknesses improved, Roan once again began to drag himself back into depression. As a man who in growing up in the temple for ten years at this point, self-perfection was ever his goal, but how could he continue to believe in such an ideal when everywhere he looked, even great men who had dedicated their lives to the task were still so full of weaknesses? His dour mood returning, he began to think again on his long missing father, and anger bubbled inside him. How full of weaknesses was that man? How much had that blood tainted him? What if his parentage would deny him self-perfection, related to a fool like his father? Why did he have to be shuffled off to a corner of the world from the mere jealousy of the woman he called mother?
Roan became increasingly more restless, frustrated, and outward thinking. Renault, who had over the last decade grown quite fond of the young man attempted to console and refocus Roan to no avail. After months of this and no sign of any improvement, Renault gambled and tried contacting Roan's father. Hoping that confronting his past would help Roan move forward, the monk traveled to the old family estate and beseeched the lord of the house to visit the temple, speak to his son, and hopefully help him find peace. Roan's father agreed after some consideration.
A week later, Renault and Roan's father returned to the temple, much to the surprise of the young man. The boy and his father talked, they argued. Roan accused him of cowardice, of abandoning him out of fear. He accused him of betraying him, and taking from him the dream of a better life his real mother had hoped for him. Throughout this, Roan's father stayed silent, he later departed having said barely a word to his son.
A week later, he returned with a long package wrapped in a blanket, asking to see Roan one last time. When they met again, this time Roan stayed silent, as his father unwrapped the package, revealing a golden, gleaming guisarme. The shaft was made out of darkwood, the blade, gold plated steel, and bearing the stamp of House Orlovsky. Roan's father told him that this was his now. Roan had remembered the blade from his childhood, his father had told him with pride how it had been his great-grandfather's once, used to fight in wars against invaders long ago. By the time it was gold-plated, its time in battle had been long over, but it was well maintained and still sharp to the touch.
Roan's father told him that this would have to represent his birthright now. The rest, he would have to earn himself. His father apologized that he couldn't have been better to him, and wished him well in his life, before turning and leaving.
The event, which Renault had hoped would calm Roan, and allow him to focus on his training more in the end, had the opposite effects when he received this final gift from his father. Though no longer tormented and haunted by his past, now his future plagued his every thought, and soon, Roan left the temple, to seek his fortune, his birthright, glory, honor, all these things, more than that, everything. His father's visit and gift had filled him with a motivation and a drive to do more than he had ever dreamed of doing. The temple could no longer help in his now deeply engrained pursuit of self-perfection, he had to go forward and seize it by the throat himself!
Shortly thereafter, Roan began hiring himself out as a mercenary, fighting in border skirmishes, raids against bandits, cults, it didn't matter. Without pause Roan sought unending glory on the field of battle, and soon had begun to amass some level of renown, at least amongst his colleagues. As his talents as a warrior grew in renown, so too did his position. More often he found himself hired on not as a foot soldier, but as an adviser, counseling the officers in charge of whichever conflict he had signed on to. His talents for finding the weaknesses in men, and deceit soon morphed into an unparallelled level of tactical acumen as he became all too aware of how to bait enemy commanders into attacks too full of impetuous or defenses too cowering.
Yet for all the experience and battlefield victories, it still wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Fame amongst mercenaries and foot soldiers was a petty fame, his birthright was that of nobility. The golden blade of his family demanded that he strive for more, for better, higher and more glorious than anyone could possibly imagine.
And so, when word came to him in the way of rumor and hearsay, that a new little kingdom in the Stolen Lands was being founded, and in need of good people, he set out without a second thought or doubt. This was the time and place, this would be the place where he would secure his place in the world.
