Our story starts with young Akhratan who, through no fault of his own, was "working" as a colosseum fighter in his birth city of Sukkot. Life wasn't easy as a colosseum fighter. The mortality rate was outstandingly high for payment that varied between very little and practically none. So it was only understandable that Akhratan used the first opportunity that he had to "quit" his job and relocate to a different continent in hopes of a better life.

Obviously, the trip wasn't easy. Unlike in a modern setting, any type of long exodus came together with its own heaps of troubles. The smallest of them being getting killed, robbed, or enslaved somewhere along the way. However, the issues that Akhratan was facing were much worse.

Since Akhratan didn't have much money, his only source of revenue came from selling his gladiator equipment and weapons to some collector, who used the ex-gladiator's desperate state to haggle the price as low as he could. As a result, Akhratan had been forced to share a ship ride as he traveled the sea to the other continent with hundreds of other people in conditions that could generously be called unsanitary. Still, that wasn't the most unfortunate part.

Due to his experience as a... "worker" in the gladiatorial ring, Akhratan was used to unfavorable conditions, especially when he had been younger and, in his "employers'" opinion, had less of a possibility to survive longer, so they didn't bother to provide him with much.No, the real issues came from the fact that Akhratan had never been on a boat, much less a ship, meaning he was ill-prepared for the months-long voyage.

The first to get him was seasickness, followed by madness that came from the harsh conditions. In fact, if the rest of the crew were still alive, they'd most definitely throw him overboard.

Eventually, Akhratan managed to reach the new continent that the locals there dubbed Elysium. Apparently, they believed that it was blessed by the Gods or something. Akhratan could only hope that this blessing would apply to him as well once he reached its shores.

When Akhratan finally touched the earth after so many months, he was a changed man. The long trip full of fevers and nightmares had taken a toll on him, and the ex-gladiator doubted if he would ever be the same again. Any lesser man would have been broken by such hardship. Akhratan was no lesser man. He had a dream, you see. 

Along the coast, there lay The People's Republic of Latium. A country formed by men and women who wished to live as equals under the sun. Surely such a place would have a need for a person like him who was blessed with outstanding talent and experience.

. ……Yeah, he couldn't find decent job. First and foremost this place had a strong citizens-first policy. Meaning that even though the republic vouched for equality, it was only for the people born there. Akhratan couldn’t exactly fault that logic. He only wished the he knew it before making a months long vojage.  

Things didn't get any easier for our fledgling main character after this. Apparently, after a few weeks of being there, he had overstayed his visitor's permit and was eventually apprehended by the local authorities. Frankly, Akhratan was "settling in," not "visiting" the republic, which was something that he told them. 

They didn't appreciate him pointing out the technicalities and gave him three options. Either he was executed, deported, or forcibly "employed." Since Akhratan preferred living and had moved across an entire ocean to get away from his last un-quit-able job, he chose the second option. 

Which meant that after traveling a month in a cattle wagon, he was thrown out up north, in the Kingdom of Francorum. A land that, though was more lax with its rules, meaning that they didn't have resident permits, was a bourgeois monarchy where all power lay in the hands of a nobility of magic users, and an ordinary citizen was worth less than the dirt on which they walked. Again, Akhratan wondered why the Gods treated him with such contempt. 

Despite the bad news, Akhratan didn't allow such a thing to weigh him down and instead focused on more pressing things, like finding work so he wouldn't starve. And since he had only one set of skills that he was good at, Akhratan figured that his best bet was to become a mercenary. 

So the former gladiator used what remaining money he had to buy whatever equipment he could get his hands on. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Akhratan found a sketchy individual that was more than willing to get what he needed.

That's how he ended up with the following gear: 

One weird-smelling brown gambeson to protect his torso. 

A worn iron sword that was still sharp enough to be used. 

A wooden buckler that was "slightly" splintering (he tried originally to take a shield but realized that it was way heavier and more awkward to use than the ones back home). 

And finally, an old iron helm with a tuft of red something sticking out from the top of it, which also offered some protection to his ears and nose. 

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Akhratan didn't hold high hopes for his new equipment, especially the red tuft on his helmet, which to him seemed like the first thing that a skilled marksman would aim at during a battle. Nevertheless, since Akhratan had no better options, he bought all of his new gear and thus started his life as a mercenary. 

If you've followed the story's pattern thus far, then you've most likely figured that the beginning for the up-and-coming sellsword wasn't easy. In fact, Akhratan couldn't even find work. There were two reasons why this was the case. 

The first, which was an issue that all warriors that traded their skills for money came across, was that people, in general, didn't like mercenaries. To the common folk, a mercenary was no different than a bandit, which in some cases was true. There were bandits who moonlighted as mercenaries and vice versa. 

Still, despite a person's fears that his employee might slit his throat after he paid him, there were still the occasional jobs that required a person that knew his way with a sword. This is where the second reason came into play.

See, Akhratan didn't exactly look like any of the locals. Most people from Francorum were pale-skinned with hair that varied between straw blonde, brown, and black, with the occasional ginger popping up once in a while. 

Akhratan, meanwhile, was extremely dark-skinned with coal-dark eyes and chocolate-dark hair that was tied into small braids. He couldn't have looked more out of place if he tried, and to the average citizen, different was something to be scorned and chased away.Not that it stopped Akhratan from at least trying. 

He was quickly forced to rule out all villages as a place of income. To them, who had never been farther than the neighboring village, the dark-skinned man could as well have been some sort of monster. A lot of the villages actually treated him as one. So, after his fourth time of being chased out of a settlement by a violent peasant militia, Akhratan moved his field of operations to towns and cities, which, unfortunately, were few and far between. 

Meaning that in order to survive until he reached them, our hero had to eat whatever he could get his hands on in the wild. And of course, since Akhratan came from a different climate, he had no knowledge about the local fauna and what was edible and what wasn't, which resulted in many close calls. Nevertheless, Akhratan made it out alive and managed to actually reach some towns. Which meant that he was ready to have his expectations shattered again. 

From a marketing perspective, his foreign looks should've given him a higher chance of getting a job in a more cultured environment than the sticks. However, that would also imply that his armor and weapons were also supposed to look foreign. 

Since his equipment looked like something the more educated people thought he dug out from some farmer's grandfather's grave, they had some doubts about his professional qualifications.

In fact, some guards once asked him if his sword was meant to cut butterflies. Akhratan, who at that point was getting kind of desperate, was ready to prove that he could cut a butterfly with his blade if that could land him a job.

After hearing it, the guards laughed, while one of them threw some coins at his feet before the whole pack left. Akhratan had no issues picking up that money. What was one man's show of mockery was another one's chance to buy himself a warm dinner. 

Akhratan traveled far and wide looking for work. His already poor-quality equipment began to degrade even further, and the unsuccessful mercenary was considering just moving to a forest and living his life out as some hermit. After all, Akhratan had gotten terrifyingly competent at making it in the wilds. 

However, before he could fully commit to this idea, he was offered a job. It was in the river city of Rinaz. Akhratan was ready for the usual spiel of him offering his services and then being laughed at when something impossible happened. One of the town's guards actually walked up to him and, after giving him a thorough look, said that he has a job for the unsuccessful mercenary. 

At first, Akhratan didn't believe him. In fact, he was more willing to believe that this guy was just trying to get him to some secluded corner in order to kill him or do something equally as underhanded. However, the guard did no such thing and instead explained the job over a cup of mead, which was the biggest act of hospitality that Akhratan had ever received since arriving on this continent. 

But back to the topic at hand. The job was easy. Apparently, the city would be celebrating a Spring festival of sorts. It was a big thing here, and the citizens wouldn't dare to miss it, including the guard. Unfortunately, he was put on duty that day, which the man wasn't too happy about and was willing to pay anyone fairly well who was willing to replace him. 

Not being a moron, Akhratan asked if it was something that the man's superiors would allow. To which the guard laughed and said that it was standard practice here and no one above really cared. After all, it was the law here that no military disputes could happen during holidays. 

Well, if Akhratan was planning to invade some place, he would do it during a time when no one would expect it, for example during a festival, however he kept quiet because that could upset his possible employer. 

After considering it, he accepted the man's offer. The guard had an honest enough face that Akhratan didn't need to suspect the man of trying to trick him. And the job literally involved Akhratan just standing in one spot for a whole day, which by his standards was easy. Also, as mentioned previously, he was desperate for work. 

So both men shook hands, and Akhratan was hired for his first job. Later in the evening, the ex-gladiator was in a barn where the guardsman graciously allowed him to stay the night. He was also given some food as well as some tools so Akhratan could patch up his equipment. 

So from an objective perspective, things were going upwards. After his dinner was eaten, his sword oiled and sharpened, and his armor somewhat mended, Akhratan was laying on a pile of hay while staring at the ceiling above him. It had been a tough couple of months, however he believed that things were finally turning upwards. Allowing himself this small glimmer of hope, Akhratan turned to his side and fell asleep. After all, tomorrow was going to be a big day.