Ridiculed and thrown from his rightful place atop the mountain at which his family had built was the Heir of the Mad King. Had he tasted the cusp of greatness that his father had would he be just as Chaotic? He didn’t have much time to think about it as the wet puddles of the poor district did a good job of taking his mind off o it. “They understand what I could have been, but not what I represent”, the heir spoke this as he mopped up beer off the floor of a bar in a bazaar on the outskirts of the kingdom of which he once had a stake in.
The people had executed his father and started what they thought would be a new more peaceful rule. Nothings ever that simple and they would learn this almost immediately following the Mad Kings demise. Disease ran rampant just like he warned and the current ruler had hardly any remorse for the people. At the least the mad king kept his impoverished people lightly fed ad medicated. With Viliem their was no room for weakness; you either survive or you die and no one bats an eye.
“I will Change what they think of me! This kingdom will be mine again and those who wish for mercy shall receive it. My enemies will get no such luxury, I swear it.” He plotted these schemes and spoke these words while mopping floors. He had always spoken this way while doing chores for his overseers, but things were different now. The Mad Kings son was ready to attain greatness and make change. Draped in the darkness he took the breath from the bar owner stuffed his satchel sack with gold and ran to the nearest blacksmith. Change is coming to the mightiest kingdom of them all and he’d be the one to lead that rebellion.