During one of many fireside meals late in the evening after a day of hard travel, the party as usual turned to story telling to pass the hours until sleep came. Waeslyn’s eyes were drawn to the firelight reflected in a dull gold wedding band on Therran’s finger, something he’d noticed several times before. Having spent enough time together, Waeslyn finally felt comfortable enough to ask about it. Therran didn’t respond immediately, and went to refill his mug, implying that the answer would not be short.
Twisting the ring back and forth on his finger, Therran’s eyes lost focus as he stared at nothing in particular. He says that as Waes;yn guessed, it’s a wedding band. But he ain’t been married for some time now. In a round about way, that ring is how he came to be in that manor. With an empty laugh, he admits that the ring has gotten him into several manors actually.
Many years ago, in Trinity Bay, Therran was a locksmith. Certainly not a glamorous profession, but it kept food on his plate, and he got to practice his craft which was more than many could say in those days. Having built a reputation early on as a craftsman of reliable quality, his clientele would often recommend him to friends. He was contracted to replace all the locks on a particularly fancy manor when he met a woman. She was in another social strata above him, but they were both too young to realize what that meant.
Their relationship grew despite the protestations of her parents and he eloped with her. For a few brief wonderful years he had everything he wanted, but of course that didn’t last. Her status caught up with her, and she was forced by unrelenting pressure to abandon him. Therran should have been furious, or at least devastated, but all he felt was hollow. He could never bring himself to hate the woman he loved, regardless of her actions.
When she had been escorted back to the family manor they had taken all the jewelry in their more modest home assuming that it had all belonged to her. Therran’s wedding band was among what was taken. Not wanting to leave it behind, and knowing all about how to get in, Therran made to sneak in at night and recover what was his. As he made easy time on the locks he had himself installed, he crept through the house to the dressing room. There the jewelry was laid out, his ring among them.
As he slipped it onto his finger, he felt his heart finally burst. This must finally be the despair I’ve been owed for so long, he thought to himself. When he looked down, he realized that the pain was more physical, as blood began to quickly stain his vest. Collapsing to the floor he realized everyone would smear the Lighthammer name further for a locksmith turned common burglar.
There was a period where everything was a blur. Images he didn’t understand, voices he didn’t comprehend, no concept of time passing. And when he came to, he was trapped in a mansion smelling of blood and with terrified screams behind every door. Waeslyn of course knew the rest, having been the person to free him from that cursed manor.