Rasmus, known to most simply as Ras, was in his twenty-ninth year—or at least he believed he was; the exact reckoning of his age had been obscured by the distant, windswept colony of Terra Australis, a remote outpost at the very edge of the Emperor’s vast dominions.

It was a place of harsh climates and resilient people, where survival often depended on ingenuity, courage, and a restless spirit.

Ras had been born there, far from the glittering heart of Romanun, under skies both tempestuous and sublime, and from his earliest memories, he had felt the pull of the wider world, a desire to seek beyond the colony’s rugged coastlines and endless horizons.

“Oh winds of the south, carry me far,

Beyond the horizons, past each lone star,

I leave the shores where my cradle lay,

To find the road that will guide my way.”

Ras’s quest was singular, yet deeply personal.

He sought his father, a Romanum soldier of some renown, who had vanished from his life almost immediately after Ras’s birth.

The whereabouts of this man were a mystery, perhaps even his fate itself was unknown.

Ras carried only fragments of knowledge, gleaned from the recollections of his late mother.

She had told him of his father’s striking features, of the proud bearing of a soldier who had served the Empire, and of one particularly intimate detail—a tattoo on the inner thigh, an emblem tied to the legions, a secret mark that might someday guide Ras to the truth.

These were the threads from which he would weave the fabric of his journey, fragile but persistent, illuminated by memory and hope.

“A mark on the skin, a story untold,

A father’s secret, both daring and bold,

I follow the whispers of what has been,

To find the man where his journey has been.”

From Terra Australis to the storied streets of Romanun, Ras had travelled far and wide, traversing oceans, plains, and mountains, facing dangers that tested both his skill and his resolve.

His journey had been long, arduous, and at times perilous, yet it had been suffused with adventure and wonder.

Along the way, he had become a student of the world, absorbing the music and rhythms of distant peoples, learning their languages and customs, and committing their songs to memory.

His lyre, a constant companion, had been both tool and companion; he strummed and sang for coin, for passage, and for the sheer joy of connecting with the hearts of strangers.

He had learned to earn his keep in a hundred different ways, each new challenge shaping him into a man capable of both resilience and artistry.

“From mountain peak to desert sand,

I travel onward, lyre in hand,

The songs of the people, their stories I keep,

Through night and storm, through wake and sleep.”

When at last Ras arrived in Romanun, the city struck him with awe and a tremor of apprehension.

Its towering architecture, bustling forums, and vibrant markets were unlike anything he had imagined, yet beneath the marvels lay the weight of history, expectation, and duty.

Ras felt the dual stirrings of wonder and uncertainty; here, in the capital of the Empire, he would test himself anew, not only as a seeker of family but as a citizen, as a musician, and as a man carving his place in a world larger than he had ever known.

“Oh streets of stone and markets loud,

I walk among the city crowd,

A stranger here, yet I belong,

In every corner, a hidden song.”

In Romanun, Ras resolved to ply his musical talents, to earn recognition and respect through song, lyre, and performance, hoping that his art might open doors, create alliances, and perhaps provide glimpses of the father he had never known.

Yet beyond the pursuit of skill and livelihood lay the quiet, insistent drive that had carried him across oceans and deserts: the search for his father.

Ras did not know whether the man still lived, or if, in some cruel twist of fate, he had been lost to the annals of history.

But Ras pressed onward, driven by memory, hope, and the unyielding desire to uncover the truth, to reconcile the fragments of his past with the possibilities of his present, and to discover whether the legacy of his father might finally become his own.

“I seek the man who made me whole,

Whose shadow lingers within my soul,

Through time and trial, through distant lands,

I follow the path that his mark commands.”