Andrew "Jorden" Carona, Jr.
"You are not welcome here. Get the hell off my farm."
His father had been dragged away head limp and bleeding after uttering that very sentence. Assault and battery of a Guardian, they had claimed, as if they hadn't just beaten some unarmed peasant for speaking out of turn. He hadn't known it then, but those were the last words he would ever hear from his father.
Two weeks had passed since the Guardians had jailed his father and put him under house arrest. The Guardians of Alania were the Emperor's loyal soldiers, led by the very noblemen his family despised. He had been relegated to the corner of his house, one soldier overseeing him closely as he wiped a rag across a piece of their armor. Although his family kept their disdain under wraps and never said anything outright treasonous, it was well-known his father constantly clashed with those he associated with nobility. Except for trade, the rest of his family avoided the town altogether.
Twenty-five years ago, the parcel of land his family resided on was given away to Lord Zarenia's nephew by the Lord himself. The Lord's nephew claimed their dwelling as his, amazed at the view of the lake they lived next to. The home his father, his grandfather, and all of his great-grandfathers had lived upon was no longer. Just before his tenth birthday, and the day after their eviction, the wooden dwelling was reduced to cinders. A new manor would be put in its place. Happy birthday.
He slammed down the finished chestplate with a frustrated huff. He grunted when his head bounced forward with the soldier's slap. "Watch your attitude, peasant! You should be grateful you aren't imprisoned with that traitor."
"My father is a farmer, not some traitor." His retort only earned him another smack and the threat of another flogging. Not like his prickling backside could feel anything after the ten strokes from this morning. He picked up the gauntlets.
After months of begging his neighbors for work and for food, his father had returned to Lord Zarenia practically on his knees. With him, he had brought his wife and only son, both of whom he no longer was able to feed. His previously ill daughter had succumbed to disease. His father begged Zarenia to consider his crises if he couldn't raise his remaining heir. And so with a sigh, and what he thought was mercy, Lord Zarenia delegated to them a small portion of land high up in the mountains, fifty miles outside of town. In return, they were to provide him with twenty percent of their production as rent. Although he hadn't said it aloud, instead vented this to his mother later, it was an absolute disgrace his father had been forced to give up their home, watch it burn, then pay almost a quarter of his income to keep the new one, and on top of that, renew his oath of fealty to his Lordship. The thought of his father prostrating on his hands and knees just to accept the Lord's touch of protection always made him nauseous. As if his father was still a child! One different limb and it would be the Lord's beleaguered foot on his father's bowed head.
Only two good things came from out of this entire fiasco. Finding his adopted brother in the woods while they journeyed to their new home, and five years later, his baby brother's birth. He had sworn to protect the little one from whatever detestable excuses their Lordships conceived. Some brother he was.
In the next two decades, the old Lord would pass away. His title was bestowed upon his nephew, who in turn levied higher taxes to arm the soldiers against the coming rebellion. What use were taxes and armanents when all they had to do was strip the crops in his field and turn him into their housemaid? The sergeant who led the troops to his door had placed him under house arrest before his father's sentencing. To make it a fair trial, they wanted a witness on his father's side. They could have simply told him that! Why wouldn't he declare his father's innocence? They didn't have much in terms of money, but they would have happily spared a few extra potatoes for their guests, many as they were! Dug up the whole field even. These "Guardians" couldn't even be bothered to utter a "please" or "thank you" to their unimpressed host. They only came to prevent his farm from becoming some rebel stronghold, as if that would ever happen. No one ever went out of their way to visit this family of outsiders.
"I need to pee," he said, setting aside the shining gauntlet. The fetters on his ankles rattled as he stood. No one moved until he held up his hands. His eyes narrowed with displeasure as his wrists were bound tightly, but he said nothing else. After all, he had once knocked a hole in the wall of the tavern. He wasn't going to admit how poorly repaired that rickety old place was. Finally, the guard untied his chain from the wall. Collared like a dog! If it wasn't his father in trouble, he would have long ago taken the head off whoever had authorized this. The metal loop around his neck stiffened as the guard pulled him forward. A single blow to the ribs brought him to his knees.
"The peasant will learn to address his superiors properly."
He wheezed as the noose tightened, the pressure on his throat coercing him back onto his heels. "May I use the toilet, please?" then another fist straight to his stomach. He curled himself against the floor, gasping for air.
This was nothing, he thought, compared to the anguish his father must have felt during those tumultuous few years. He recalled evenings huddled around a campfire, falling asleep to the thudding of his father's axe. The shivering as winter set in. Silent dinners as his father drew up plans for the new house. Aching muscles as he hauled felled trees to the space his mother and brother cleared for building.
"Corporal, what are you doing?" The sergeant entering the dwelling wasn't fully armored, retaining only his gauntlets, chestplate, and iron boots. He clanked across the dirt floor and helped himself to the bread on the table, barely glancing at the man bowed at his feet.
"Teaching this peasant dog some manners," the corporal replied, kicking at the groaning peasant. "Zarenians are known for their rugged manners, but this boy takes it much too far."
The sergeant only snorted in response, drew up a chair, pulled off rusted iron gauntlets and dropped them on the table with a thud. Taking command of the chain, the sergeant hauled him back to his knees. He glared as fingers gripped his rough-bearded chin, hoping the iciness of his pale blue eyes channeled his displeasure and unnerving hatred.
"Don't you forget, peasant," the sergeant growled, his voice dropping dangerously low. "Your father is charged with conspiracy against the crown. Nor have you told us where your missing brothers have gone. Without Lord Zarenia's permission, might I add. As far as we're concerned, they've joined with the rebel army so you'd best not make yourself any more suspect than you already are."
"I only said I needed to go for a leak." Jorden broke off coughing with a single harsh jerk of the chain.
"It seems you Zarenians have been isolated far too long from the rest of the country." The peasant cried out in pain as he dropped underneath the sergeant's heavy fist. "Mannerless, brainless filth. Even Redcker slobs knew to mind their place." The late Lord Zarenia has been much too lenient with you," the sergeant said, climbing to his feet. "A peasant of your age should know to ask permission before he does anything."
"I am not your slave," the peasant rasped, his glare still steady, swaying slightly with his unstable bearings. His head still swam with the blow to his collarbone. "I am not obligated to do anything for you." He said that in spite of being forced to cook and clean after these noblepigs.
Just as the noose tightened around his neck, he heard a commotion outside the door.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Jorden speaks little about his past. He feels it's no longer worth complaining about. Instead, he's been saving little by little to purchase back his familial home.
Sexuality
Zarenians don't often nose into other's relationships, and privacy is greatly valued through the entire country. Marriage is still encouraged, regardless of whom it's too. But even still, Jorden's found his homosexuality uncomfortable to talk about. For most of his life, he's not been seen once with a partner on his arm—at least, not until that Aça man showed up.
Education
Intellectual Characteristics
Stubborn, bull-headed, and temperamental. His little brother Daniel finds it fun to rile him up, and Brandon always has to calm the two down. It's assumed Jorden has little tolerance for his little brother's antics, but after everything his family has gone through, he welcomes any interaction he has with what little remains. Not that he admits it.
Morality & Philosophy
Relationships
Partner Spirit
Diaroca
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