Mathias was born in Valifren, a quiet valley town of the north, nestled between two mighty mountains and fed by a rushing river that brought fish and small boats from further south. His mother was a dark skinned town smith from the deeper southern regions, his father was the captain of the guard and a northman through and through, son of a northman who was the son of another northman. A match made by the gods, the towns folk would often say to the joining of a smith and a guard captain. Life was always happy. Always good. There was never a night where food wasn't on the table as Mathias was growing up, his family was one of the most well established in town. He was always an eager boy, bold and blunt, and with a courage and lack of shyness in him that made him a constant flirt later in life.

That wasn't to say life was easy, no. Both his father and his mother grew up poor, having spent their lives helping build the town after the slavery, growing up in the aftermath of brutality and oppression. They would not let the next generation leech off their labors and grow spoiled. Mathias was put to work from a young age, only ten when he started, tending the fires and sharpening the swords, and he was always eager to help. Because his parents thanked him for everything he did, and rewarded him with smiles and encouragement. It wasn't long before he wanted to be just like them.

So he worked hard, and he trained hard. His big passion in life was his mother's forge, and he found that out at an early age, but that didn't stop him from joining the guard under his father at fifteen, as soon as he was skilled enough to handle his sword. There was never any shortage of discipline, with a training day every weekend and a Captain that could keep an eye on him everywhere from the training grounds to the kitchen table. He grew respectful and calm, and never failed to follow his father's orders. But that didn't mean the company of his friends couldn't keep him as bold and flirty as always.

He was a proud and capable man by the time he came of age, and he had plenty of friends and brothers in arms, the town was well guarded, and the people were well cared for. He spent most of his time at the forge, followed by an evening patrol and an hour of sword practice with his father every night, only once or twice a week going out with his friends to shop, horse around... And mostly flirt with pretty girls by their encouragement. “Elsa's been lookin' at you! You should go talk t' her, 'ave you seen the ass on that girl??” His best friend Almior would comment, to which he'd chuckle and answer “I'll think about it.”

The answer was always “I'll think about it.” Because as much as he was a flirt, he never found the words or the time between work to seriously pursue a woman. Every once and a while a girl would move on him, they might court for a few months and exchange kisses (and sometimes more), but in the end, every girl he dated broke up with him, for the simple fact that he was always more interested in the forge then them. By the time he was twenty five, the ladies of town had labeled him a lost cause. And he was completely oblivious to it.

The day came when his mother finally gave him full control of the forge, he was the town's smith now, and she was growing too tired to do much more then help her student. He was proud, and did everything he could to keep the fires burning bright and get his metal into every home, every pocket, and every sheath. He did a fine job. Even through the harshest northern winter, the forge never grew cold.

The civil wars raged on, but they were always elsewhere. Men would leave to fight and prove their worth, and never come back. When Mathias was twenty three the mines became understaffed, sometimes he would have to go down and work with the mine foreman just to get metal up to his forge to keep the guard armed in case of attack. Everyone was prepared, ready, but no one thought the valley would ever see war. There were plenty of lucins in Valifren, not a garrison but everyone always hoped there were enough to call on the aid of lucin soldiers garrisoned elsewhere in the north, everyone knew that aid wasn't promised to them, but it was nice to hope. The valley was a quiet place, a little corner of the world where nothing terrible had ever happened. Which is why it was the best piece of land in it's entire region, and one coveted by it's neighbors with a burning desire.

When Mathias was twenty seven, well after the civil wars had died down in every other region, the two cities to the west amassed their warriors and besieged the walled town of the valley. Losses were low the first day, the people of Valifrin had been ready, but the guard was vastly outnumbered and now under siege. Day after day, they banged on the walls of the once quiet town, launching artillery and arrows over the wall. Day after day Captain Wallward and his son rallied the guards and all the able bodied men to defend their home. The fighting was brutal. It wreaked havoc on the mind, week after week of siege, seeing a girl he once dated shot dead from a stray arrow. An elderly soldier from the Veld War who had long since finished with fighting crushed under an artillery stone. A guard that didn't make it this time. It was Mathias' crucible, his reforging by hellish flames that tempered him into a harder and colder man.

The siege lasted for two months, with terrible losses on both sides. Mathias was twenty seven now, and a natural leader in the chaos. He was made a lieutenant under his father, following the deaths of older more capable men. He had men even younger then him under his command, men that he couldn't be sure would be alive the next day. It was becoming evident to the Captain and his lieutenants that something needed to change and fast, or they would not last another month of siege. So they began planning, and for several days they worked until their plan was ready.

The plan called for every man and woman alike who could raise a sword to be readied, and basic hasty artillery to be constructed by the local woodworkers using the timbers of the dead's homes. They launched their best offensive, scattering the enemy ranks on one side and one side only with artillery before following through with a surge of men, the fighting was vicious and their offensive team's numbers rapidly dwindled... But not before they pushed three horses through the enemy line. Mathias' friend Almion, an elder named Gregor, and a lucin woman named Sabrina were to ride the horses as far and as fast as they could to call upon the aid of the other northern cities, and the lucin garrisons spread throughout.

Once the horses were through Mathias pulled back what was left of his men through the gates and into town, wondering if the lives of his friends were just wasted, or if they had just purchased hope. He waited quietly, pounding away at the forge to repair armor and keep the archers in business each evening, and pounding away at the skulls of Valifren's enemies each morning after. He was lucky to survive as long as he did, but over time the days blurred and the intensity of war grew to a numbing bleak reality. He lost hope. A month had passed since the offensive with no return of the riders...

Then a mighty horn echoed from the distance, a horn not familiar to lucin ranks. The horn of a southern army's legionaries. The lucins would not answer the call of a town at strife with it's neighbors, but an other more opportunist southern (But still part of the north) city heard the plea of a respected northern sister. Almion, Gregor, and Sabrina returned with a legion and the salvation of Valifren, and the siege that had lasted three months was ended in a battle that lasted only two days. Mathias was now second in command of the guard, him and his friend Almion with his riders were all called heroes by their kin. The day, the night, and the valley were saved.

Celebration lasted for weeks. Drinking, dancing, and bedding were in no short supply for anyone who held a sword in defense of the valley. No one cared when the legion from the southern city stayed in Valifren, no one minded that they had traded a garrison from the west for an occupation by men from the south. It didn't matter to them. But Mathias didn't feel happy with the victory, it felt empty and hollow compared to the hell it took to earn. He would forever remain a quiet and dispassionate soul after that. He spoke often with the rider Sabrina, a flirt, a drink, a fucking regretted the next morning. She fell in love, but the emptiness within him remained.

He joined up with a second legion from the southern city when it came, it seemed their objective was to crush the western cities that had attacked Valifren. He saw past the sugar-coating, the southern cities were on a streak of occupations, and now they had new targets, using the opening of the Dusk Portal and the drama that followed to take attention away from their imperialistic expansion... But he didn't care. He fought with them, and by the time a year had passed both cities had fallen and the west was won. He came home with spoils of war, and Sabrina was eagerly waiting. He was twenty eight now, but he felt like an old veteran.

Everything had been won. Town had been repaired. The region was at peace under the occupation of southern men. His father was proud of him and his people praised him for his victory. Victory he felt was nothing more then surviving longer then all the others. He spent a year in town, working the forge, patrolling the walls, helping rebuild the mines, courting Sabrina... Everything was bleakly normal for the great losses they had taken such a short period of time before. On his twenty ninth birthday Sabrina gave him a lucin made sapphire garrison ring with the title of the guard regiment he belonged to ( The 14th Regiment ) engraved on it, an old military tradition, and told him she wanted to marry him...
… And he was on a ship away the next day.

Mathias couldn't stand the sight of town anymore, he couldn't stand the smell, the sounds, even the feel of familiar stone walls beneath his boots. He couldn't look Sabrina in the eyes when she kissed him, he couldn't so much as respond to the people who praised him for what he had done. He kept it locked away, quiet, his feelings trapped deep within. He put a false smile on for his friends and spoke words he didn't feel. He needed to go away, far far away, and stay where the wind took him until such a time as the bitter numbness he felt went away. So he paid his fare, and sailed to the farthest port available.

Ravenna.