My childhood was rather peculiar. I was raised by my father, my mother having died during my birth. We traveled a lot, always in a caravan to some new place. He provided everything a good father should. Traveling with him gave me the opportunity to start learning the business from a very young age. There were other children that would sometimes travel with the caravan, but usually only for a short while until they got to their final destination. I used to dream that someday father would tell me that we were going to settle into a city and set up shop. This was never the case.

We traveled until his death. The road can take a lot out of a man, and father had been getting on in his years even before I was born. He never so much as visited a healer, but I could see sickness in him long before it took him. It was a sickness in his heart. He carried on, and worked too hard in what I believe to be an effort to escape the loss of my mother. A subject which he and I spoke of on a few rare occassions. I suppose he was a bit cold, and distant most of the time, but I do not doubt the fact that he loved me. During his last few days, he spoke to me and told me to follow my own path. That is what has lead me to Gahlen.