It’s interesting to note how full of confusion one’s life typically is. Rarely, if ever, can we truly be certain of anything. Yet we blunder on anyhow, making the best decisions we can with the limited information available to us. Those who make one choice, we label heroes. Those who make the other, villains.

“Loral?” a voice said softly. I jerked my head up out of the book to see my mother standing at the doorway. I hadn’t heard her come in, though whether that was due to my preoccupation with reading, or because the snores coming from the beds around me drowned out all other sound, I wasn’t sure. Three brothers. One room.

I was something of an insomniac.

The candle my mother carried flickered in rhythm with the one by my bed, casting shadows over the room. “Put the book away, dear,” my mother said. “You need to sleep.”

Sighing, I marked my place in the book and set it to the side. It wasn’t that interesting anyway. For a book that was supposed to be about one of the greatest figures in history, it sure sounded a lot like philosophy.

My mother waited until I blew out the candle before she wished me good night and left. Miraculously, I managed to fall asleep.

The next day, I woke up to an empty room. It wasn’t unusual. I was a heavy sleeper – once I got to sleep, at least – a trait formed from circumstance. My brothers, all older, had jobs, and so had to be up early. My father would be working already as well. He always left before I was up, and usually returned after I was asleep. Almost a year out of school, I should have joined them. Part of me wanted to. The fact that I wasn’t contributing to keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table burned at me with the power only guilt held.

The feeling only intensified as I glanced at the stack of books beside the bed. They had cost an exorbitant amount, putting the family into debt to pay for them. Yet they were our salvation. If I was to join the Academy in the fall, I’d need the knowledge contained in their pages. When I graduated, I’d be able to get a position that paid more than the rest of the family earned. That was the risk that had led my father to buy the books. That was my responsibility.

So when I made my way out to our small kitchen to find some breakfast, I clutched the book I had been reading the night before, The Life of Jarem Nebriah. You can see why I thought it would be a biography. As much as it wasn’t what I expected, it was still an interesting book.

A smile reached my face when I saw the kitchen table loaded with food. No doubt my mother was out performing errands, but she always made sure I ate. If she left it up to me, I’d probably just have a couple of bites of whatever I could find, then curl up and get lost in a book.

But she expected the food to be gone by the time she got back. I slid the book onto the table, and opened it up to the page I had marked, picking up an apple at the same time. I was careful not to drip juice onto the page as I crunched into the apple and started to read where I had left off.

Whether hero or villain is a matter of some debate in certain circles, but the one thing no-one can doubt is that he was influential. We all know the story of how Jarem came to the aid of King Delin, forming the Quis and giving the King the means by which to control the Madmen and reduce the now-illegal Ratan population. How he himself led the charge against the Madmen in Brochus, and his fall outside the walls of Alston. But very few know the story that comes before that – Where did he grow up? Where did he learn the skills of the Quis? Why did he offer his assistance to the King of Attarnon?

Some of these questions I have found the answers to – others I can only guess.

Jarem was born in a small village outside Nami, in the desert of Aridia. This, of course, is from where his dark complexion arises. His childhood, from what I could discern, was uneventful. It wasn’t until his fifteenth birthday that he was taken into training to acquire the skills he would eventually pass on to the Quis.

As Jarem himself wrote:

“I was born near Nami, in a small village named Fey. My family was neither rich nor poor, and I had an uneventful childhood.

“That all changed the moment I got accepted into training.

“I had never told my parents about my plans. I had barely breathed of them even to my friends. They would have thought I was crazy. Yet I always felt a pull toward the Quis, as though the Goddess was guiding me, even then.

“I was accepted at the age of fifteen, and the moment I stepped within those walls, I knew there would be no other place I would ever call home.

“I’m not permitted to speak of our training, even here. But when I emerged ten years later, my arms were stronger than a normal man, despite being of average size. My eyes were clearer, my ears sharper, my legs faster. The broadsword strapped to my back and the steel plate that hung on my shoulders marked what I was as clearly as the Goddess’ symbol emblazoned on my chest.

“I was a Qui.”

I reached for another apple only to find the food was gone and my stomach full. My mother would be pleased.

The kitchen table not being the most comfortable of places to read, I rose and brought the book with me to my favourite reading chair. I settled in and found where I had left off. Jarem’s journal entry. I wasn’t even aware the man had done any recording of his life. The text continued with the author’s comments.

Jarem was never cut out for life as a typical Qui. A life of acting as a judge, distributing justice across the land – it wouldn’t have agreed with him. Though he tried for a brief time, he quickly felt the pull to travel west, beyond the mountains.

It should be mentioned that, at this time, the country of Brochus did not exist, and the mountains formed the boundary of the west and the east. Jarem followed the road through Valjen until he arrived at Insen. In his own words:

“I have never seen such disarray in my life. It is as though the entire country seethes like an anthill. The cities have no structure. The land undulates like waves on the sea. And the trees! Spread as far as the eye can see, they cover the landscape. At times, even the sky is hidden by the branches. I fear if I stay here much longer, I may become claustrophobic.”