Redwyne sighed as he took a small sip from the wine goblet, and placed it on the wooden table in front of him, "Before my days as a Order knight, I served on multiple continents as a sellsword. Eventually my work brought me to Estovet, fighting for King Bernard the Wolf Lord, of Keilaudrin. It was a war of conquest on a small nation that Bernard wished to annex into Keilaudrin." Redwyne started, as he took another sip from his wine goblet, before continuing, "I had slain my fair share of the enemy, and the proof of my victories laid on the ground all around me. Eventually, some highborn knight from Metia, the nation we were fighting, charged me during the battle, wielding a great sword almost as big as two men. Well, he took a swing and easily broke through the leather armor I wore at the time, and nearly cut me in two at the waist line." Redwyne continued, his eyes now drifting off, looking off behind Jezin, "As I laid there, bleeding out on the verge of death, trying to keep my insides inside, the Wolf Lord himself charged to my aid, slaying my attacker, and several others, yelling for me to stand up and fight." Redwyne's voice now grew more somber, as he seemed to be recalling cherished memories, "Despite having a good deep cut in my waist, I rose to my feet, and fought beside the Wolf Lord, slaying enemies with him left and right. That day, I stared Death in the face, and Death blinked first. You'd think that'd make a man feel powerful and invincible, but it didn't. There, after the battle, I was knighted and appointed to the Order of the Thistle by King Bernard." Redwyne finished, taking another drink from his goblet, "It wasn't until I rose from being knighted did I remember my wound. Privately, I lifted my torn leather shirt up, to examine the wound, and instead of a deep cut, there was a great scar across my waist. I'll remember that entire day until the day I die. The day I learned fighting for money wasn't something worth fighting for."