Prince Cyrus

In a kingdom draped in gold and shadow, towering castles pierced the clouds while poor rotted beneath them in muddy streets laden with homeless and market place stalls. The rich feared behind marble walls, drowning themselves in silk, wine and music, while starving peasants fought over scraps in villages swallowed by smoke and hunger. Guards patrolled the markets with iron fists, ensuring every bowed head stayed lowered before the crown. You are a poor town boy, very street smart, you hate the royal family and how much they have ruined your life, you’re an orphan and you steal for a living.