Barbosa was six years old when the war band took him. The night his mother died, he was dragged through the snow, bound and shivering, as the warriors looted what little remained of his village. He did not cry, whether from shock or something deeper, even he did not know.

The Ironrock War Band was not a group of mere raiders. They were a brotherhood, warriors bound by battle and blood. Their ships cut through the frozen seas like wolves stalking prey, and their war cries struck fear into the hearts of those who heard them. Strength ruled above all. if you could not fight, you were nothing, and Barbosa was nothing.

At first, he was given the lowliest of tasks, hauling wood, sharpening blades, cleaning blood from armor, feeding the War hounds, and horses. He was expected to learn through observation, to survive through obedience. But even as a child, his Goliath blood made him strong. The warriors noticed.

When he turned ten, they put a blade in his hand. not to fight, but to work-gutting fish, skinning game, hacking through the frozen ground to dig fire pits. Every task was a lesson, every moment a test. The war band did not coddle him, nor did they waste time with kindness. Pain was his teacher. Hunger was his motivator.

By twelve, Barbosa was allowed to spar with the younger warriors. His first lesson was brutal-he swung too wild, relying too much on strength, and was knocked to the ground again and again. One of the older warriors, Bjorn One-Eye, Stood over him, sneering.

"Strength is not enough, pup. Strength is a hammer, good for breaking, but useless without aim."

That night, they made him sit at the long table, where the War band's leaders gathered. They did not let him eat. They asked him questions instead. "what is a warrior?" Captain Blacktooth asked.

"A man who kills," Barbosa answered.

Blacktooth shook his head. "No. A warrior's is A weapon. He is A weapon that does not kill for pleasure, but for purpose." with a slight pause in his voice he then continues, "what is the greatest strength?"

"Power", Barbosa said.

Bjorn laughed, while the captain and Bjorn both shake their head. "No, whelp. the mind is the sharpest blade. without it, your are just a beast swinging at ghosts." Bjorn said.

From then on, they forced him to think before he fought. They would attack him from different angles, making him predict where the next strike would come from. They would give him one chance to land a blow-if he failed, they would beat him until he learned why. He learned, the hard way.

By fifteen, he fought alongside the war band in his first raid. They stormed a rival clan's village, cutting through defenders like fire through dry wood. Barbosa Hesitated at first, but hesitation was the sign of an untrained mind, and untrained mind would equal death on the battlefield. He adapted quickly, by the end of the battle, his axe was stained red, and he understood what it meant to survive.

The War Band had never truly treated him as a slave-he was a tool, a student, a weapon in the making. But freedom was not given. It was taken. At nineteen, fate gave him the chance. The War Band ambushed a caravan in southern lands of the Faeronian empire. Soldiers transporting a noble's riches and spoils of war. The battle was fierce, and Blacktooth found himself surrounded, his horse struck down, his shield splintered. Barbosa did not think he acted. He cut down the first soldier with a mighty swing of his axe, cutting the man in half at the waist. As the man's body fell over dead he could see infront of him a man about to make a killing blow into Bjorn's back. Barbosa threw his axe, which embeded into the man's spine keeping him from making the killing blow. another Faeronian soldier comes from barbosa's back he instantly unsheathes his dagger spins out of the way of the soldiers attack, and with a reverse grip slams the dagger into his throat. The soldier gurgling on his own blood drops to his knees and dies. Barbosa quickly hauled Blacktooth to his feet. When the bettle ended, the war band stood victorious. Blacktooth looked at barbosa, blood dripping from all his weapons, and covered in the blood of his enemies, and let out a gravelly laugh.

"You are a slave no longer pup. You are a Ironrock. But you have outgrown this pack. The world is wide and you have your own hunt to chase." He handed Barbosa a heavy pouch of coin that they just robbed and gestured toward the western shore.

"Go. Make your own Legend, make it so big they hear it back in Gorgawarth. And so, Barbosa stood at the edge of the Faeronian Empire Staring at the unknown. For the first time, he had no master, no war band, no orders. Only freedom. He carried the nick name pup for his entire stay with the Ironrock war band, but this was the first time he actually felt like a pup with so much freedom before him.

After earning his freedom, Barbosa was given a bag of coin by his former master—a rare gesture of respect and acknowledgment of his worth. With this small fortune, he set out on his journey toward Raykala, determined to carve out his own path in the world.

The journey was long and arduous, taking him across the rugged landscapes of the Gorgawrath Dominion. He used his coin wisely, purchasing supplies and securing passage with a merchant caravan heading south. Along the way, he encountered travelers, mercenaries, and traders, each with their own stories of the world beyond his homeland. For the first time, he began to understand just how vast and complex the world truly was.

When he finally arrived in Raykala, the bustling western port city of the Faeronian Empire, he was met with a sight unlike anything he had ever known. Towering ships lined the harbor, their sails bearing emblems from distant lands. The streets were alive with the voices of traders speaking a dozen different languages, and the scent of salt and spice filled the air. It was a city of opportunity, but also one of danger.

Barbosa quickly learned that survival in Raykala required more than just strength. He needed allies, information, and a purpose. It was here that he first heard whispers of Lady Ella Starborn, a noblewoman unlike the rest of her kind, one who actually cared for the common people. Her name surfaced in conversations among sailors and dockworkers, her upcoming public address stirring both hope and tension in the city. Something about her story caught Barbosa’s interest, though he couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps it was her defiance of the rigid hierarchy of the Empire, or maybe it was simply that she represented something different from the life he had always known. 

Seeking the familiarity of the sea, Barbosa found his way to a crowded dockside tavern, where the air was thick with pipe smoke and the sound of shanties echoed against the wooden walls. He settled at a table with a group of old sailors, their skin leathery from years beneath the sun and their eyes carrying the weight of countless voyages. 

"New to Raykala, lad?" one of them asked, stroking his gray-streaked beard. 

"Aye," Barbosa responded, taking a swig of his ale. "Spent most of my life on the move. But the sea—it's in my blood. My father was a sailor before he died."

"A sailor, eh?" another chuckled. "We all got stories like that. What was his name?" 

Barbosa hesitated. "Don't know if you'd remember him. He sailed long ago, died in a battle on some island that no one speaks of."

At that, one of the older men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "An island not on any map, you say? That stirs a memory… long ago, I sailed on a ship hired by none other than Lord Starborn himself. Lady Ella’s father. Paid a hefty price for secrecy too. We set out for a place that—well, we were told to forget."

Barbosa's heart pounded. "Did you see it? The island? What was there?" He described what little he remembered of his father, hoping it would spark recognition.

The old sailor frowned, rubbing his temples as if grasping at a fleeting memory. "I wish I could tell you, lad. But the years have taken much from me. All I remember is the feeling… we weren’t meant to be there. Amoung the crew that left the ship none came back before the order was given to head back to port."

Barbosa sat back, the revelation sending a chill through him. Lady Ella Starborn suddenly became more than just a noble with a kind heart—she was now a link to the truth behind his father’s fate, he was sure of it. He thanked the old Sailor with another round of drink on him. and retired to a room he had rented for the night. He couldn't help but wondered if Lady Ella was really what everyone made her out to be. Was she really someone who cared, he found that very hard to believe.

The next morning Barbosa got up and decided to attend Lady Ella Starbon's address to the public. He made his way to center of town as the sun rose over Raykala, the city square filled with merchants, fishermen, and common folk eager to hear the words of Lady Ella Starborn. Barbosa stood among them, arms crossed, back to a wall, listening. The noblewoman stepped onto the wooden platform, her presence commanding yet warm. She wore no extravagant jewels or silken robes—only a simple, elegant dress suited for travel. She looked upon the gathered people not as subjects, but as equals.

She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice carrying strength and compassion.

"People of Raykala, I stand before you not as a noble looking down from a high tower, but as a woman who hears your voices. I have walked your streets, spoken with your families, and seen the hardship written on your faces. I know of the raids, the theft, the fear that keeps you awake at night. And I know that those who should be protecting you aren't. The ones who sit in their marble halls, safe behind gilded doors—have chosen silence. I refuse to do the same." A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some looked away, others nodded.

"You are not nameless. You are not forgotten. You are the heart of this city. The hands that build our homes, the backs that carry our burdens, the voices that should never go unheard. If the Empire will not stand for you, then I will. And if I must drag the ruling class to these streets to see your suffering, then so be it! The crowd erupted in cheers, some raising fists in agreement.

"Raykala is more than a harbor for trade; it is a home, and a home is worth protecting. I do not bring you empty words, I bring action. I will take your grievances to the capital. I will demand justice. But I need you to stand with me, to show them that you are not weak, that you are not afraid! Will you stand?" A resounding "Aye!" filled the air, voices strong with hope.

Barbosa watched her closely. He had never heard words like these from a noble before, never seen someone of her station speak with such fire. She did not talk like the powerful men he had known, who sought only to rule. She spoke like someone who cared.

For the first time in his life, he wondered: Could there truly be people like her in this world? Who care, even though she has no clear cut reason too. Would this noblewoman hold the answers he sought? When the speech ended the crowd dispersed, murmuring about her boldness. Barbosa turned to leave, still lost in thought about the island and what it meant for his father’s fate. That’s when he felt someone’s gaze on him.

From the steps near the speaking platform, a man clad in the Starborn family’s sigil stood with his arms crossed. He was lean but carried himself like a warrior. Watchful, and disciplined. Barbosa recognized the type immediately; a man trained to protect, not just posture. Their eyes met for only a moment before the man approached.“You,” the guard said, his tone firm but not hostile. “You were watching Lady Ella closely.”

Barbosa smirked. “Aye, wasn’t hard to. She speaks like she means it.”

The guard didn’t look amused. “Do you have business with her?”

Barbosa exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

The man studied him a moment longer, then nodded slightly. “Then I’d suggest keeping it that way. For your sake.”

"What is your name?" Barbosa asked.

"Marcus, If you need to know the rest, you screwed up." With that, he turned and walked off, his watchful eyes scanning the thinning crowd. Barbosa didn’t know his last name, nor did he particularly care. But something about the encounter told him that wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed. Barbosa lingered, still turning over the old sailor's story in his mind. The island, Lord Starborn's secretive voyage. There was a connection here, and it all led back to the Starborn family.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed an older man with a merchant's tunic took a seat on a nearby bench, stretching with a sigh.

"Impressive speech, wasn't it?" the man mused, glancing at Barbosa. "Not every noble bothers to address the people directly."

Barbosa scoffed lightly. "Words don't fill bellies."

The Merchant chuckled. "True, but hers might keep swords out of them. That girl fights harder for the people than half the city guard." He shook his head. "Shame she's got no real power. Not while her father still Breathes." That caught Barbosa's attention. "Lord Starborn?"

The man nodded. "Aye. He's the one who pulls the strings. Controls the coin, the land, the armies. You think any of this happens without his approval?" he waved a hand around the square where they were sitting. "Lady Ella's got a heart, no doubt, but Lord Starborn? that man's a fortress. No one gets to him unless he wants them to."

Barbosa frowned. If Lord Starborn had been to that island, he was the one with the answers. But if this merchant was right, getting near him would be impossible. "Seems a waste then," Barbosa muttered.

"Maybe, Maybe not." The merchant leaned back. "She's not just some noble's daughter playing politics, She listens. If you've got something worth her time, she'll hear you out. Barbosa mulled that over. He had no interest in politics, but if she was the only door left open, then it was the one he'd have to walk through. He stood, adjusting his belt. "she stays in Faerook, then?"

"Aye," the merchant confirmed. "But getting an audiece with her won't be eas either. She's surrounded by guards, and with how things are in the capital, she'll be hard to reach."

Barbosa smirked. "Nothing worthwhile is ever easy." with that, he strode off, his path now clear. Faerook was his next destination, and Lady Ella Starborn was the key to uncovering his father's fate.