Born from the illegitimate union between a Brevic noble, and a Rostlandic commoner, Arcantos grew up with the shadow of his unknown father over his head. The human never knew who his father was, and whilst he quite frankly never cared, it was far from a secret either, meaning that others were more than happy to tease and taunt him about it, which in turn helped him develop a thick skin.
One place that Arcantos did not have to struggle for acceptance however, was with his family. Despite being a bastard, neither his mother, grandparents or his uncle saw it as a fact to be ashamed off. He could not control his parenthood after all, and he was a bright, intelligent young land. So why should he be judged for it? Instead, Arcantos was allowed to help his grandfather and uncle in the family trade at a young age: Blacksmithing.
Or at the very least. What the blacksmithing profession had become over the last few decades... the construction and maintenance of firearms. Whilst there was still some call for the close-ranged weaponry and metal armour of the old-days, for most part blacksmiths either focused on the mundane, such as horse shoes, shovels and other simple metal shoes. Or they gunsmiths, like Arcantos and his family... and it was soon discovered it was for the better as well, as Arcantos didn’t have the same physical strength as his grandfather and uncle, but he had swiftly, nimble hands and a keen eye, perfect for firearm crafting... and usage.
After all, what weapon-smith wouldn’t put the product through its paces to ensure it functions? Especially one as complicated as firearms. It didn’t take long for Arcantos to learn not just how to craft, care and improve firearms, but how to use them. It was because of this that when Arcantos first heard the call for aid, he left to apply. Fresh and eager for adventure, and confident that his experience with firearm care and creation would come in handy. Especially as Arcantos wanted to help push the technology of firearms beyond what anyone could ever imagine.
