Edvis

Baron Edvis of Vugvovon was a vassal of the deposed Prince Djano of Dzuvan, and remains loyal to him. A kind-hearted ruler, he was held captive for a year after the Arfodjian invasion of Dzuvan.  

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Backstory

Early Life

Edvis was born to Baron Zòn and his wife Lenja. From a young age he was brought up to become a skilled diplomat so that he wouldn’t have to face the difficulties that his predecessor did when he took the title. As an only child, he was the sole heir to his father's title.   They tried to talk him into taking sword fighting classes and dropping archery, but Edvis refused, believing that archery was a much better sport than pretending to be a swordmaster. Given the boy's determination, Baron Zòn hired a renowned bowman to train the child, although his lack of physical skill soon became apparent. Nonetheless he persisted and to this day is considered a competent archer, but no more than that.  

Diplomatic Training

He quickly took to the diplomatic side of his training, much to the relief of his parents. He had no issue understanding how the vassal-liege relationships worked and what it took to achieve a deal that would benefit him. As he grew older he became interested in magic, but because Vugvovon was such a small place he could find neither books nor people who could teach him such art, and no one in his family knew anything on the subject that would help him.   Edvis always enjoyed reading, so his tutors were always expected to bring books that he would return upon finishing them. Although he was not eloquent in writing yet, as opposed to his later eloquence during public speeches, he became an avid reader from an early age.  

Early teens and teenagehood

When he turned ten, he was formally introduced as the heir to the Barony of Vugvovon. Less than a year later he began his formal training in ruling and diplomatic relationships ― just a step further from what he had been learning all that time. He proved quite a proud future ruler, but his daily walks around town ― encouraged by his parents to improve stamina and physicality ― would soften his heart towards the commoners under his rule and would later turn him into a "kind-hearted ruler", as his subjects would say of him later in life. He would sneak out of his home early during the morning, right before the sun completely rose, and would practise archery near the outskirts of the town.   Before he had turned 15, his father fell sick and was bedridden, and in less than a year succumbed to his illness. Because only a few weeks remained until Edvis turned 16, his mother begrudgingly took her late husband's place, without so much as a ceremony taking place. When the time came, Edvis took the place his father had occupied for so long. The town cheered as he rose to power, and many held great expectations for him.  

Adulthood

Six years into his rule he met Dvalin, a woman his age who had recently moved to Vugvovon. After a few months of courtship, the young couple soon got married, a celebration which was funded with their own money as Edvis refused to take from his people. A year into their marriage their first child was born, whom Edvis named after his father, Zòn. When he was five years old, a second child was born, named this time after Dvalin's father, Dan. The two children grew to be very close, and Dan soon developed an interest in archery, giving his father hope that he would become a skilled bowman one day.   He had several years of successful rule, regarded as a compassionate ruler by even his opposers. Years into his rule, the Arfodjian Invasion of Dzuvan took place, and Prince Djano was overthrown. Because he was very public about his loyalty to the deposed prince, the de facto ruler Prince Ander of Arfodjia decided to have him captured. At the age of forty, he has now spent roughly a year imprisoned, but his loyalty towards Prince Djano remains unscathed.    

In the streets of Vugvovon

  Edvis was a thirteen year old boy, and like many his age, had grown rebellious against his parents’ orders. In spite of the risk it meant, he always snuck out of his room at sunrise, with just enough natural light to see where he was even going. Being heir to the Barony of Vugvovon, he had already visited the important spots in town; and, being a mischievous child, he knew exactly which places to avoid lest he be exposed to his parents.   A bow and his arrows were all he needed. It wasn't difficult to sneak just onto the outskirts of Vugvovon, especially from the castle, so he would get to his favourite archery spot in no time. However something would change that day.   Everyone knows about magic, however not everyone knows magic. Young Edvis was very well aware of the fact that he - or anyone else in his family, for that matter ― was unable to cast spells or so much as comprehend what it meant to do so. He was probably the first in his family - of non-practitioners, it is worth mentioning - who showed such interest in magic, but his parents attributed it to child-like wonder, and that he’d grow out of it soon enough. But Edvis had a knack for finding what he was looking for.   "How do you do that?"   The man at the end of the alley turned around subtly, but turned his back on Edvis almost immediately after. He was wearing ragged clothing, worse than that of the poorest peasant, but were the small pebbles floating around him. Edvis began again. "so?"   "That" in question was the lifting of small rocks around him and forming shapes with them ― so far he only managed to lift a few at a time, barely enough to make a circle. While aware that there sure was some sort of formula for that, few were the books in his house library that so much as mentioned magic, let alone elaborated on the topic ― but all that achieved was making him even more curious. How much could he lose, after all?   Soon enough he began his "quest". Restless day after restless day he'd finish his studies as soon as possible to explore the world of the unknown ― of the Practitioners of the Arcane, his young mind filling in the holes the books left behind. He probably spent more time daydreaming about spellcasting than he did studying. "Edvis," his mother said one day, "you haven't been studying as diligently, have you?"   Edvis was a fourteen-year-old kid, the ever-growing weight of his responsibilities beginning to dawn on him. He was sure he had found important information, and his research was as important to him as diplomacy could be. But his parents would sit him down every other weekend and scold him for his "negligence". "The townspeople know who you are, the title you’ll inherit," his father was unforgiving, "what will they think if they see the future ruler roaming around the streets at dusk, carrying with him a bow and arrows? And worse yet" he stammered, "talking to a peasant?" Edvis made a point to wake up earlier, and maybe then his face wouldn’t be so recognizable. Or maybe he’d have to dedicate less time to the arcane arts…   Edvis is half a year away from turning sixteen. His father is bedridden and ill, probably not long until he… "Dad," he spoke out, "I have improved. My teacher says I"m progressing at an accelerated rate…and…" His father turned to him, smiling, sort of. "That's great, my boy."   They stayed in silence. Edvis wanted to tell him so many things: that the person from the alley had disappeared, but that he didn't know when, as he had stayed by his father's side for so many days, that recently he came across a book that gave easier-to-understand definitions of magic. That even though the best age to learn it was during the early years of childhood, he could still learn if he really got to it, he just needed…   "Dad," he said again, "I'm gonna be such a great leader." He couldn't say any of it. "I'm so glad" Zòn replied "that you quit your silly magical pursuits." Edvis left the room a little while afterwards.   Edvis got married a week ago. His wife walks around the castle library, her eyes wide open. "Do you like it?" "Yes," she said "it's beautiful". Dvalin noticed that the first rows of books were almost all about the arcane arts. "Any reason in particular for these?" Edvis laughed, "I'm getting there."  

Somewhere below Adjazig

  Prisoners never had it easy, not in this world or the next. Worse yet for those who were imprisoned for unjust causes ― such was the ordeal Edvis was going through. Rightfully, the Baron of Vugvovon. Currently, prisoner to Prince Ander of Afrodjia. His cell in particular was one of the worst out there: most of the bricks were overtaken by moss, the remaining ones with huge cracks that spanned the entirety of their size, and the ceiling had water leaks almost all day long. He wouldn't know if it was all day, though, because no natural light ― if any light at all ― reached his place.   "Must be horrible to be dragged out of your own home and taken prisoner!" The guards muttered when walking by his cell. It did.   Having occupied such a position of power and having been treated with only the utmost respect, it was weird being there. When he was young he had learnt that what a person becomes in times of desperation tells volumes of who they are; and right now, he had very little hopes for himself, what kept him awake was the idea of breaking out, some day.   A guard approaches him, grinning, and Edvis knows what that means. He sees that the guard lights a torch up. Unusual, he thinks, but nothing out of the ordinary. Soon enough he is not alone in his little cell anymore.   "This is a lowly prison," the guard says, "but perhaps it is too luxurious for a traitor like you are. Scum of this planet!"   He swings something -a bat, a sword?- at Edvis. He doesn't dodge, perhaps because he is too tired physically, or because his mind sees this opportunity to fast forward a few hours when he regains consciousness. Either way, he feels himself fall to the ground just before everything fades to black.   He opens his eyes once again. He’d heard a faint clicking noise just a few minutes prior, but thought it was part of a dream, along with a much louder sound that could be described as metal falling to the ground. The reason for such a specific description is because before his eyes he saw a metal tray with food on it.   "My, the cook really outdid himself this time", he muttered to himself bitterly as he picked it up and inspected the food. Not that he was a particularly picky eater, but food poisoning was most likely to be had if it was from the food prisoners were given. As he ate the salvageable parts of an apple, he turned to the wall.   "100"   At some point he had written that. Deep down he knew that, in spite of his best hopes, that was more likely to be the amount of times he'd fallen asleep, or unconscious, rather than the amount of days he had spent there. After all, how would he know when the sun set and rose when the only light source provided was that of a torch, several feet away from him?   "However much time has passed since he was overthrown, Prince Djano will take his crown back sooner or later."   He had to, Edvis thought, or else... This wasn't the time or place to think of the "what ifs". Prince or not, he had many other things to worry about ― real things, like the location of his family or a way of breaking out, not a hypothetical future in which no one rebels against the invaders.   "Over one hundred days without peace," Edvis said out loud whilst discarding the rest of the food, "but soon this shall all come to an end." He hoped he'd see his wife again, and have another opportunity to see her face. And if that was the case, perhaps it wouldn't be too late to see his children grow up. Secretly he had been hoping that they'd break out first, and then encourage other citizens to take to arms and battle for their country.   He once told this idea to the person bringing him rotten food. "No children were taken captive." He chuckled, and mumbled to himself but loud enough for Edvis to hear: "He's been here for so long, he has begun to hallucinate a different life."   If they weren't taken, then there was still hope for Vugvovon, Edvis thought.