How old had I been, when I was ripped from the arms of my mother? Mortal was I, but only half, and the demon blood lay dormant. In ignorance they took me, seeking only to save me,a helpless babe, from a demon, no doubt bent on stealing souls.
So in ignorance I was raised.
A man by the name of Tanneth Wintry, neither old nor young, took me into his home, to be raised as his own. He was wifeless, and childless, save for me, so no one feigned surprise when he named me heir to the legacy that was his; The Riders, an infamous company of Bounty Hunters, whose glory spread near world-wide. Though he was but father to me, he was Captain Wintry to all else, a position that held dwindling respect.
If there are those who remembered the days of peril, when the Bounty Hunters were much sought after, there are those who don't, living instead in the comfort of our City's new ease; warless and prospering. Give them their comforts I say, for it is all we have. I lived in the comfort of home and hearth, raised among the wealthy, as the wealthy, even if I was not. Barley had I crossed the threshold of childhood, into the awkward world of adolescence, did I realize my fate. Raised like a high-prized horse, I was honed until I shone like a star. Educated, sophisticated, comely and obedient; all the makings of a good wife, if not a bought one.
If I was the former, I was initially the latter.
