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Personal history

Any man who plays at being royalty in the freshly-democratic nation of Andoran - whether he be genuine in his ambition or simply a fanciful fool - is bound to have a difficult time. Especially if that man's father is a respected magistrate of the local people's council. Much to the chagrin of old Magistrate Marsh, somewhere along the line his son Brilam developed a fascination with the ostentatious gallantry of Old Taldan royalty. He spent much of his childhood unabashedly play acting as courtly characters, and in time, earned the nickname "The King". Much to the chagrin of young Brilam, that nickname was often spat back at him as a mockery, followed up by disdainful sneers and laughter at his expense.
 
Ever a rascal and dreamer, and an occasional scoundrel, Brilam got into more than his fair share of scrapes, and always seemed to be concocting some sort of mad scheme. On numerous occasions he found himself in the Bellis Moothouse, facing his own father and the rest of the town council, but Old Man Marsh had his reputation to uphold, and never went easy on the boy. However, being the son of a magistrate meant that Brilam knew the laws just well enough to talk his way out of any serious punishment.
 
Once he was of age, and had accumulated enough coin through his numerous, dubious side-hustles, Brilam succeeded in getting his first big break - the opening of his very own pub, the "Hillside". What were words of praise for his son's legitimate business venture soon turned to ash in the mouth of Old Man Marsh. Though at first Brilam profited like a prince, things rapidly declined as his venue regularly attracted ever-growing crowds of rowdy migrant lumberjacks. Woefully unequipped for such a thing, the Hillside quickly became a raucous den of drunks, brawlers, and gamblers - a black spot upon what was otherwise a then-quaint lumber town. One night, a group of drunks (fueled by the Hillside's cheap, smuggled booze), started a brawl in the tavern, which started a riot, which started a fire, which burnt the Hillside and several neighboring buildings down to the ground. There was no way that Brilam could talk his way out of this one. He was jailed, slapped with massive fines, shunned by the community, and ultimately disowned by his family.
 
Call it pride, call it spite, call it sheer dumb determination...he didn't quit. Upon serving his sentence and paying his fines, Brilam immediately took a loan from the Church of Abadar (at an astounding interest rate) and purchased a large warehouse that he dubbed "The Palace" - a venue now known throughout the region as the number-one place to eat, get drunk, watch a fight, meet someone new, and gamble the night away - and do so safely, all under one roof. This time, he did everything above board - paid his taxes, followed building codes, sourced all his goods legitimately, and hired on a small army of security, a legal team, and even a mage. Despite the best attempts of the local council to legally halt his efforts, this time nothing could stick - Brilam didn't just flaunt legal loopholes, he danced through them.
 
When the migrant lumberjacks returned to Bellis, and the doors to The Palace finally opened, they opened to people eager to spend their hard-earned coin - and The King was there to greet them. Locals and tourists alike still line up night after night for a chance to cut loose and have a good time. These days, few people ridicule The King when he puts on his robe, dons his crown, and steps onto the stage. Those that do are quickly drowned out by cheering crowds - crowds who are ever so eager to hand over their coin, forget their troubles, and get treated like royalty.
 

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The King eventually paid back his debts, and succeeded in turning The Palace into his own personal version of Old Taldor. And for a while, things were good and life was easy. Then one autumn day, a little old white-haired man and a tall, quiet, dark-haired woman came to visit. They talked for a while, and the white-haired man offered to buy The Palace for a confusingly large amount of money. The deal seemed too good to be true, but the kind old man was true to his word, and so The King gladly gave up the keys to his Palace.
 
The King had once heard that the coasts of Taldor and Qadira are particularly beautiful - perhaps someday soon he might leave this little logging town behind and see them for himself.

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