Chancus Ambanca was the son of a rich man, but unfortunately, the wrong one for the benefits. He was the second of two boys, six children total. His brother was strong, good-looking, and had all of the other qualities that his father, a prominent lord, had begged for in a son. He was nearly eight years old when Chancus was born. Chancus was somewhat less at birth than his brother had been. He was a sickly baby, who in turn grew to be a sickly child. His body was constantly racked with disease, and it was a true wonder that he lived until the age of ten. It was then that he noticed that his role in the house was not that of his brother. His brother was his father's right hand man. The two were barely separable. His mother had her new daughters to attend to. Chancus was the leftover. It was not long before he had withdrawn completely from all of them. He continually spent his days in the woods, observing the creatures that skittered about, undoubtedly avoiding the arrows of his father and brother. Occasionally, he would confront the pair of them in the woods with hunting bows. His father would bark that he had no business in the woods, that he should go home to his studies and at least try to study something to make him of worth. His brother would look on haughtily, fully aware that he was heads above his poor brother. And Chancus would merely take in the rantings of his old man and leave towards their home, only to move once again to a new part of their family's fief.