DH: So, yeah, welcome to The Soulseer. I honestly have no Idea how often I will upload this compared to my other stories. I am aiming for this to have one chapter of this for every 2-3 in my main stories, but that is subject to change on my inspiration.

Vincent: Hello.

DH: Seriously, I wanted to this alone. You know, make this more dramatic?

Vincent: One chapter, please. Jem isn't exactly forthcoming with his past.

DH: Why do you think I am writing this?

Vincent: Good point… still, I am here, you can't undo that now!

DH: Dammit, fine. Next time, your ass is mine.

FTR- This story is told ENTIRELY from Jem's POV.

"Is it what the teacher teaches? Or is it what the student learns?" Matthew Stover

Chapter 1:
Origins

20 years ago…

"Get away from my son!"

"Mommy, who are those men with the swords?"

"Hush, dear. Just get away from them."

Dad pulls out the lance from our wagon. I have never seen him hold a weapon before. We have always traveled from town to town without need for it. He stands tense, but the brigands were at ease. It wasn't much of a fight, one restrained him while the other ran him through. They killed Mom too, even though they didn't need to.

"Mommy, Daddy… get up, why aren't you getting up?"

"Get rid of the boy too. No witnesses."

I feel the hilt of a sword smash into my head, and I fade out for a second.

"-rd, he is just a kid. That is going too far. We killed the merchants. We have all their supplies and goods. He can't do anything…"

All I remember next is blackness.

I woke up in a cold sweat. That dream again. After my parents died, I turned to theft to stay alive. I learned to be quiet, quick-thinking, and fast. Five-year old kids shouldn't need to learn this sort of stuff.

When I turned 16, I entered the Chon'sin military, hoping to prevent my tragedy from reoccurring. I spent three years there, learning the art of swordplay, and once I left, only my squad leader could touch me in a duel. I quickly realized that the military did not care about the poor son of a merchant family who lost his parents to brigands. So, when they wanted me to lead my own squad, I left.

I returned to stealing food and the occasional jewel, but I eventually met an old criminal named Alard. He does small theft and bounty hunting, but recently turned to hunting for ancient relics and selling them for grand profits. I started working with him, and my life quickly improved.

"Boy, are you up yet?"

"I am."

"Then get over here! Story goes our target has five men with him. I need you swinging that toothpick of yours."

"Just because I use a thinner blade than yours, doesn't mean it is any less deadly."

"Yeah, yeah. Warrior, not the weapon. All that garbage." Sometimes he annoys the Hell out of me.

"Just kill your three, old man."

"Five men? That's a dozen."

"Apparently the reports are wrong. Don't chicken out on me, boy."

"Says the one who hasn't had professional combat training."

"No school issues better soldiers than life, Jem."

"Preaching to the choir."

"You see that choke-point? They will only be able to come at us four at a time there. Wait there, I will bait them."

A rock hitting one of them in the shoulder worked rather well. Too bad I missed his head.

I lure them to the choke-point, where Alard and I make a stand. It quickly became a dance of thrust, block, and slice, and blood coated our blades.

The last two and the boss were much tougher, and I could see Alard growing tired. I took a gap in my target's defense and struck him down. I run the last grunt through the back and restrain the leader's sword arm.

"75,000 gold for this guy? Alard, are you sure we have the right man?

"His face matches the poster, boy. Now hold him steady."

I didn't notice he had a knife. Not, at least, 'till it ran across my face.

"Godsdammit!" I reflexively let go of him to clutch my eye.

Alard manages to kill him while he's distracted with me, but the damage was done.

"Alright boy, let me see your eye."

I manage to open my right eye, only to hear him sharply inhale.

"What's wrong with my eye?"

"It isn't there anymore…"

Vincent: So, that is how he lost his eye?

DH: It is still a sore point of his. He still flinches whenever a knife gets near his face, sheathed or not.

Vincent: So the badass isn't so badass, is he?

Jem: GET OUT OF MY BIOGRAPHY!

DH: When did you get here?

Jem: right after you mentioned I left the military.

DH: Well, bye for now.