The Ivory Lord : A Hero Born , V . 1 Content . The soldier waited with bated breath . His hand gripped the blade haft tightly , turning his knuckles ashen white . His sword arm shook nervously as he stood behind the others , waiting for his chance to strike . Any moment now , the Alessian patrol would pass by . He had to wonder , though , what exactly had he gotten himself into ? His name was Erric Deleyn , and even he didn ' t know where his part in all of this began . An innkeeper ' s son barely of age , his family tree was literally dripping with proud horse breeders , farm hands , and — like his father — cooks . He had as much warrior ' s blood flowing through his body as he did muscles in his arms and back . Which is to say , almost none . Yet here he stood , armor hanging loosely on his thin frame , holding a sword he barely knew how to use . Erric wished he could say that he had joined the militia to gain revenge or honor . That his father and mother had been slain in an Alessian attack . Or that the love of his life was taken to the slave camps of the evil Alessians . By the Eight , he would have settled for any excuse in which the Alessians wronged his family . But , no . Erric ' s family was safe and sound . His pleasantly plump parents happily ran an inn in one of the small towns that dotted High Rock . And the love of his life ? Well , there was none . He had never felt the embrace of a damsel or tasted the kiss of serving wench . So why did he want to fight the Alessians ? Well , he had heard bad things about them , but as far as he was concerned it was all rumors and innuendo . He had lived a sheltered life . No , the reason Erric stood next to Kish ' na the fierce Khajiiti maiden and Calinden the handsome Ayleid knight wasn ' t quite so lofty . It was more mere chance and accident that had led him to this time and place . He had been sneaking off into the woods at night to practice the same fighting techniques he ' d seen the city guard practice . He wanted to learn how to fight , but he didn ' t want anyone to see him doing it . There was too much of a chance someone would make fun of him . After all , he was just a cook ' s son . So every night Erric would grab his rusty sword and mismatched armor and head into the woods to train . But tonight would be different . There would be no more practice . As Erric ran through back alleys to reach the hole in the wall he knew so well , he turned a corner and almost ran right into them . His breath caught in his throat when he saw them . A handful of men and women from different cultures all huddled together , whispering . They wore impressive uniforms and carried even more impressive weapons . Cautiously he approached them , but Erric had little skill or grace . He tripped over his own feet and landed in a puddle with a loud splash . The warriors turned as one , weapons drawn and eyes hard . But they saw his armor and weapon and assumed he was there to meet them . Being too afraid to say otherwise , Erric was welcomed into their group . It was simply a case of mistaken identity . Later , he might have called it fate . But tonight ? Tonight was the night Erric Deleyn was going to die . And that event would change the world around him forever .