He spent many hours of his early life, before, thinking of how beautiful, how elegant and powerful, the Temple of Marr looked from a distance. The building and front courtyard were made of a white stone cut so sharply he thought the corners might tear the skin of anyone unfortunate enough to have a close encounter with them. The Temple was so different, so completely outside of his own experiences with the rest of the dingy city of Freeport. He had wanted to be a part of it like he wanted to be able to breathe the next morning; sometimes, the desire to be there was so strong his stomach twisted and he physically hurt, just for want.
Seeing the knights who strode so proudly from the northern Temple only amplified his pain. They were so much better than the dirty, smelly Militia who controlled the southeastern side of the city. He had never seen one steal, or strike a citizen in anger. Though they did curse—at doors, horses, curbs, and each other, and quite colorfully so, but never at civilians. Naturally, he wanted to be one of them, and would march around their tenement with his back straight, kicking doorframes and cursing at them, or swinging a broom like a sword, but both activities were highly discouraged by his mother. He knew she couldn't afford to have him trained at the temple, but couldn't he pretend?
But this was all before he heard of the vacancy among the ranks of the acolytes, for a charity case. And so now he stood with two other boys and one girl, awaiting whatever tests the temple intended them to take to prove themselves. Even though he had waited his whole life for this, just waiting in that group of children made his stomach curl up and pain him, just out of desire.