House Marras is a Sparthan noble family with an extensive military background. Leondre was born as the fourth son and youngest child in the Marras family. A relatively healthy baby, growing up he was quite shy around anyone other than his parents, including relatives. Kincaid Marras was a retired royal knight and veteran Captain whom served under the previous King of Spartha. His wife, Frida Marras, was a shield-maiden hailing from the Northern Isles. The couple was considered eccentric even among noble standards.

While other Houses hired servants and maids to do carry out mundane chores such as cooking or cleaning, the children of Marras took it upon themselves to do it until they became of age. All its members, even the cadet branches, were required to learn some form of martial training. His wife even suggested that the females practice basic self-defense, going as far as training her nieces and granddaughters.

Behind closed doors and hushed whispers, Lords and ladies criticized Lady Marras's unconventional methods as taboo and foreign. Many viewed her as wild Northerner that needed to be leashed. But the Lioness did not concern herself with the opinions of sheep.

It was to that end Leondre was sent to the Royal Military Academy when he turned fourteen. Like his brothers before him, Leondre would spend the next five years learning all there was to becoming a Marras worthy of their family name.

That was two years ago since then he had come a long way. Proof of that being the ceremony currently ongoing.

"Rise son of Marras."

Leondre kept his head low with one knee bent on the floor. 'A write of passage, it's still hard to believe.' He really couldn't fathom it, the summoning of the Headmaster at short-notice. Being ordered to bend the knee as the Grandmaster unwrapped a familiar blue-tinged sword out the bundle of furs.

Slowly he rose up from his knee, carefully avoiding the Grand and Head master's piercing gaze. His face glistened under the soft torchlight, it was a shade darker than it's usual sun-kissed complexion. Leondre could only look down at the polished marble floor, where a pair of green emeralds stared back at him.

A prodigy is what they said. Gifted in the academics and unrivaled in his swordsmanship among the second-years. Leondre felt he was none of those things, he could only credit it to the rigorous tutelage of his parents. Upon entering, first-years were expected to know basic reading and writing, as well as a simple arithmetics.

[But I already learned those things with the tutors, and some more in my readings.] Reading in the library was a great way to pass time while home alone. His brothers: Thurston, Jormund, and Marcel were long gone by the time he turned six.

Then came the physical training which happened in the early morning before classes, and mid-noon drills after supper. By the end of the year, you were expected to have learned the basics in horseback riding, one-handed weapon manuals, and court-etiquette. All of which, except for etiquette, Leondre was more than familiar with.

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[I wonder how mother and father are doing?] He thought back to the fighting sessions his parents would have when he was younger, it was their favorite method in settling marital disputes. Frida Marras was much like the sea, a gentle lull before the storm. It's apart of her personality as it is in her fighting style. An image of a red-maned Valkyrie, bright and ill-tempered as her hair, comes to mind. With shield and axe in hand, she bashes opponents left to right like rag dolls.

[She's scarier than father, that's for sure.]

Her blessing, Wolves of the Sea, allowed immense strength and balance. Leondre winced, remembering the sore bottoms he would receive after misbehaving, sometimes not even being able to sit the next day.

"Raise your head." A voice hollow like wood broke Leondre from his stupor. The wizened face of Grandmaster Bennett came to view, his brows wrinkled in displeasure.

[Mithra's grace! I got caught up in my thoughts for too long.]

Leondre cheeks turn another shade brighter. Even now he is convinced, he's still the awkward boy that left home; hopeless among girls and terrible at making friends.

[But not now. I refuse to make a fool of myself, this the most important day of my life.]

Damming the tide of emotions, Leondre forced himself to stare back at the two bottomless pits. Leathery and calloused hands grip the hilt steadily, raising the blade over his head.

"Thus let it be the last time you will bow your head in deference. Be courteous but not submissive, respect is earned not given. Bend your knee to no other except the King, for few among the many are your equal."

The cold metal rests on his shoulder now. From the corner of his eye, faint inscriptions are etched into the sky-blessed steel.

'Roi Soleil,'

Sun King.

Long ago, a meteor was said to have fallen from the sky. Sent from the Goddess of Light herself, Mithra, in a heavenly display: Night had turned into day for a moment. Because of her love for humanity, the meteor broke into pieces scattering itself among her children. Or so the Temple says.

Sun King was originally a holy relic found in Franleux, made from a fragment of this meteor.

Franleux is the name for the country neighboring Sparthania's western borders, it's inhabitants are commonly referred to as Franks. Renowned for its fertility, patronage of the arts, and vineyards. The lack of famines, and a higher standard of living brought by prosperity, are seen as the reasons why it's numerous city-states have remained at peace for so long. His family name originated from their Frankish roots. In fact, Frida and Kincaid Marras's fourth and third sons were named in homage to their Frank ancestors.

The story of how Sun King came into the family's possession was a favorite among the many Leondre listened to his father regale. During a grand tourney, it was revealed among the contestants, as a prize to the first place duelist in the grand dueling. The winner was said to be a Chevalier. His face remained a mystery under the visor of a rusted helm, he bore no crest on his shield to indicate from which noble family he hailed. Only a name was given, albeit without a surname, Marras.

"Ahem."

[Mithra help me. I did it again.]

The expression on the Grandmaster's face was most unforgiving. After a minute or two of making Leondre squirm, Grandmaster Bennett continued. "Always remember, your allegiance is to the Realm first, then the Crown."

Leondre licked his lips, "I shall."

Grandmaster Bennett nodded, the longsword was withdrawn and returned into its scabbard once more.

"Then rise Ser Leondre and take this weapon as a Knight of the Realm."