How long does a man contend with his own mind before madness prevails? For all his life, Cyfier has lived as a warring scout, the assassin, the spy, the figure in the background living unnoticed. Watching the human culture battle with itself over coin or land. He has stepped in only where it suits.

His blacked armour, once made of gold is no longer the stuff of legends but a representative of his decaying years, its glory only remembered by the dead.

having lived alone for decades, only observing humanity from rooftops and shadowed alleys. He lacks an understanding of life. He cannot hold a conversation together that another may consider normal, less it was detailing a contract with an employer. His actions are always deliberate though. He fails in socialable skills but makes up for that ten fold for influence, able to step into a situation, guide it to an outcome of his own making, and disappear as quickily as he entered. A skill used many times.

But with all men of skill, like the armour he bares, this to decays with age. Background thoughts that have existed for as long as memory allows are able to muster the strength to come forth. Finding himself daydreaming. A soul of a more average being dreams of a life more like Cyfier's, is it so odd to discover that Cyfier could dream a life more like theirs? A passing dream for years has been a blacksmiths life. A family life, perhaps even the touch of a woman, a sense, in truth, Cyfier knows nothing off. His mind battles with him, continue on path and face death for surely even his body can heal only so many wounds, or submit. Allow the dreams to come to pass, live a life of his own, not one bound by contract nor the word of someone death to the higher bidder. A life Cyfier in all his years may well make a timely end. But dreams would not be dreams if it where that easy to make them true and a haunting background can leave any number of loose ends.