Raised in Roman lands by a priest Hectar Arturias knew little of his past, and even less of who he really was. He was always lead to believe he was a Roman, and the son of the Priest. In his younger years the priest trained him and taught him the way of goodness, but as he aged he showed exceptional skill with the sword in battle and was trained to serve in the armies. The priest had no objection, and even helped teach him some defensive techniques. Hectar showed exceptional skill as a tracker and scout, and spent most of his time in the wilds, perfecting his skills to better serve his fellow soldiers. He was rising through the ranks, and being noticed fast amongst all the other common soldiers for his skill, leadership, and intelligence. The only thing that seemed to keep him from promotion was his way of doing good before orders. It was the one trait the priest had insisted on, and Hectar agreed. The priest was like his father, and more then that it made sense and felt right. After all, how could you build an Empire and claim it was for the people, when your actions spoke otherwise?
Hectar grew up fast, and as he aged the Priest grew frail and weak. He was dieing. Hectar knew it, and it saddened him. Towards the end the Priest called for Hectar, saying he had something important to share with him. When Hectar entered the room the Priest was laying in his bed, breathing heavily. In his arms he cradled a small wooden box Hectar had never seen before. It had intricate designs on it, and a brass lock. Hectar knelt before the priest.
“I am here Father.”
The Priest smiled and looked at Hectar, his eyes deep and penetrating. His words shocked Hectar, and left him feeling hollow and empty. It was these words that had brought his world crashing around him.
“Hectar, I am not your father by blood. When… you were a mere child I was in the lands of the Celts. A woman asked me to take care of you because she was dieing. She said you needed to be taken care of, because someday you would return…. To… to protect one who could change the world. She…gave me this. It is a simple lock, but some enchantment…protects it. She said it won’t open until…its time.”
The Priest closed his eyes and seemed to be done, but after a few seconds he opened his eyes and continued.
“The armies of Rome will march on those lands soon. It isn’t an Empire for the people they want, but more riches, land, and power. I want you to go with them. Do what your heart guides you to. This…is…your fate. Make me proud…”
Hectar looked at the man. He had always thought of him as his father, only to find out that he was not. Hectar felt shocked, but he also realized he loved the priest, as he would his father. To him this man was his father. He would honor him, as he had always tried to do.
“I will father. Rest well, and I will see you in the afterlife.”
The Priest smiled and closed his eyes, handing Hectar the box. Hectar left the room, and that night the Priest died. He had been right though. In the coming weeks word started to leak out that the armies were to march on the Lands of The Celts, and Hectar Arturias volunteered to go and scout the lands. He arrived in the strange lands, knowing no one besides the army he had come with, with a strange box he could not open, the dieing words of the only family he had known, and the few possessions he had. What strange fate awaited him? What part would he play in things? There was only one way to find out.
Raised in Roman lands by a priest Hectar Arturias knew little of his past, and even less of who he really was. He was always lead to believe he was a Roman, and the son of the Priest. In his younger years the priest trained him and taught him the way of goodness, but as he aged he showed exceptional skill with the sword in battle and was trained to serve in the armies. The priest had no objection, and even helped teach him some defensive techniques. Hectar showed exceptional skill as a tracker and scout, and spent most of his time in the wilds, perfecting his skills to better serve his fellow soldiers. He was rising through the ranks, and being noticed fast amongst all the other common soldiers for his skill, leadership, and intelligence. The only thing that seemed to keep him from promotion was his way of doing good before orders. It was the one trait the priest had insisted on, and Hectar agreed. The priest was like his father, and more then that it made sense and felt right. After all, how could you build an Empire and claim it was for the people, when your actions spoke otherwise? 
