Heir to the throne of Argos, powerful Mage and Psion
I was the first son…I was my brother’s Elder by exactly 5 years. And under standard, Ebonrow tradition, it was I who was to inherent the throne under my father, King Aegis. Indeed, it was even I who begain to manafest talents of sorcery from a young age…unaided by anyone! They were simple at first…but by the time I was 12 years old, I had begun to master the incantations. While a simple casting of Mage Hand might not be enough to save a kingdom…I knew a mage chould do far for a kingdom then any mundane methods my father chould employ.
However….This was not to be the case. As a few short years ago when I was 40 years old, a child no more, and reagent in the making, as my father grew older and older…..my title was striped from me! On my brother’s thirty-fifth birthday, my father bestowed upon him the title of heir to Ebonrow. I was heartbroken. What did RICHARD…, no better then a common knight, do to earn my father’s trust? Enough to void my birthright? Was there some conspiracy I was not aware off? Was it his natural physical attributes, his strength and his agility that made him a better king in my father’s eyes? Certently not! A king rules by knowlage and charisma…not by brute force? And yet…did my father think that my magical talent made me….a weaking? Unfit to rule? The next two years were short as I pleaded to speak to my father at every occation, as a child might to an overworked parent? But alas, just like a child, my father worked long and hard duitys to rule Ebonrow…duitys that would kept him away from his own family. And after those two years, his exhaustion would catch up to him, and he passed away from the one curse that not even mortal magic can cure…..old age.
None cryed harder then I on the day I learned of my father’s passing. Not only had Ebonrow lost a valueable leader, a value king ruling for far longer then any mortal king ought to live…but he took the answer to my lifes burning question with him to the grave. WHY? WHY had he given the crown to RIchard? Was I not charasmatic enough? Not schooled enough in the art of ruleship? Did he hate me for what my magic signified me as…a mage? These are questions that…to this day, still haunt me. But on his grave, and in frount of the entire funeral procession, I swore to my father’s will, that I would always act in the best interest of my people.