The life of Béefyre

         Growing up it was hard always being picked on. Despite what everyone thinks, growing up in the Shimmering Castle doesn't mean a great life. The other boys would always call me "Mixed Blood" or "The Noble Shit Scooper" as a way of constantly reminding me of my lineage.

          My mother was a care-free youth, prone to the whims of her fleeting emotions, she fell in love with a charming peasant boy. He used her and cast her aside after he became aware that she was already to betrothed another man. Heart-broken, having lost her love but also the respect of the nobility when they found out she was pregnant with me. After I was born she decided to stay in the capital city, the Shimmering Castle, and hold on to me. All that did was make my life miserable; all the other kids made my life hell, and it was worse for my mother. The mistake she had made, condemned her to the bottom of the social. The people who scrubbed the floor of the latrines were more respected than her, at least they hadn't violated their upbringing. The constant sideways glances and omnipresent gossip about her life was too much for her, as she was able to find solace in the only thing that didn't judge her, spirits. Alcohol was her escape, and it became my nightmare. Not that she was a mean drunk; the more she drank the less responsive she became. It got to the point where she would spend half the day in a drunken stupor and the other half sleeping off the hangover. It was all I could do to just stay sane, between dealing with my drunk mother and the consequence of being the illegitimate son of an alcoholic woman. As I got older my life only got worse, the kids replaced name calling with violence and black eyes became a near constant part of my appearance. My mother's health was far from decent, and I found myself always having care for her while she was in feverish comas. I honestly think she didn't even knew what was going on 3/4 of the time, and when she was coherent she was barely able to speak. By the time she was 32, she was dead.

         I was a young boy, barely able to survive on my own. And the fact was that besides my mother, no one wanted me. I was far from desirable, my mother had burned all her bridges when she was alive and I was the one who paid the price. I had missed all my lessons to take care of my mother, or trying to avoid the physical abuse the others always sent my way. I had to resort to stealing from the other noble in the night to survive, taking their silver to sell to the shady merchants of Genicor. The more I stole the bolder I became, until one day I was caught. When they realized what I had been doing, compounded with the fact I had no family, they decided to convene a court to decide my fate. The weeks went by and I was convinced that I was destined for the life of the beggar orphan. I prayed to Zatash every night for my fortunes to change, and my pleas were heard. When I went to the court, they found me guilty. Normally for a noble this is no big deal, but in my case I was facing total expulsion, as they read off my verdict I knew that I was doomed.

         As a formality they always ask if there is someone willing to Redeem, or pay off the fees charged against them. This is when the parents of the child speak up and make the problem disappear. My mother was dead, and my father was long gone. There was a long awkward silence in the large room. I stood there praying for someone to help me, my whole life had been hell, and all I wanted was to be accepted. And just as the judge was about to expel me, a shadowy figure stepped forward and simply nodded his head. The judge turned and whispered something in the ear of the guard beside him, who briskly walked towards me and, without saying a word, escorted me into a dark room and then promptly left.

         I was alone in the near pitch darkness, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt peace. Although I had no clue who the shadowy figure was, I knew at the very least that for once something turned out right. I began to relax, and then from behind me I hear a rough voice "How would you like to learn how to never be caught stealing again?"

         I spun around and saw my savior's face for the first time. Certain features stuck out to me; the way the man's jet black hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail with only a single thick strand of hair falling over one of his eyes, a short messy beard, his way of standing on the balls of his feet as though he was always ready to flee. After a couple more steps I realized that what I thought was a strand of hair was actually a dark blue-black scar, as though it was freshly bruised, running from the middle of his forehead across his left eye down to his cheekbone.

         "What do you mean?" I asked.

         "Do you know who I am?" He responded.

         "No."

         "My name is Geralt Nightshade. I am the royal assassin and I've taken notice of you." he calmly said. "You have some natural skill, it is actually quite impressive actually. The way you use the moon's shadows to mask yourself. I didn't figure that out myself until much later. But I digress, you are a natural and I need to train my successor."

         "You obviously don't know who I am." I replied spitefully.

         "You are Beefyre Feevert, you don't have a father, your mother was a drunkard. The other kids have been beating you up since you were old enough to walk. I know exactly who you are. I've been keeping an eye on you for a long time."

         "What does this even mean for me?"

         "You will report to the archery range before sunrise tomorrow." Geralt said as he turned for the door.

         "What if I don't want to?"

         "The way I see it Beafyre, you don't have much of a choice anymore." he said without so much as a glance back.