text: Once, there lived three brothers, identical in face and body. At infancy the three brothers, due to unfortunate circumstances surrounding the death of their birth parents, were separated from each other. The first brother wound up the adopted child of a barren lord, and was showered with gifts and joy, so much so that he would never live through a hard time in his life. All his days were filled with play and education from the finest teachers in the land, and all the finery that a young prince could expect. The second brother on the other hand, wound up in a very different life. He was taken in by a poor band of nomads. They traveled the far reaches of the world, rife with bandits, plague, and war. The second brother was forced to grow up quickly if he ever hoped to survive this dangerous new life laid before him. The third brother, neither lucky or unlucky, was adopted by a kindly farming couple from a small village. They were poor of course, being peasants, but they had always wanted to care for a child. He faced his share of hardships growing up in life, but he had friends and family to support him. Now, I suppose, is where we see what became of these boys. The first brother, being pampered and praised all his life, was never exposed to true hardship. He had spent his whole life behind impenetrable castle walls and had grown up on tales of honor and kindness and as such had never truly seen the wickedness of men's hearts. Despite his sheltered upbringing, the young lad still had a burning wanderlust and as such set out to see the world when he had come of age. Upon arriving in his first big city, he discovered that life was not exactly just like the castle. People were mean, they had no respect, and they most certainly did not wash themselves regularly. He did not let this deter him however, and he continued to explore this grand new city he had never seen. One day, a stranger offered to show him around the city for the meager price of a gold coin. Eager to see everything this city had to offer him, the young prince accepted. He followed the stranger throughout the city, seeing a few landmarks and big statues, until they came to a rather secluded and darkened street. The stranger, having seen first hand the naivety of the young prince led him into the alley where he and his gang of ruffians, rapscallions, and raiders promptly stabbed the boy in his side, beat him senseless, took all of his gold, jewelry, and clothing. The Prince, aged 19, dies naked and bloody in the gutter of some slum nobody remembers. The second brother, having faced a lifetime of hardships from a very young age, grew up quite differently. As a child, his tribe was ravaged by bandits, killing many and taking him and others as slaves. As a slave, he was abused, beaten, and worked to the bone day in and day out. Even when performing his tasks to perfection and beyond, he was still beaten. As such, the young boy allowed hate to grow and fester in his heart. One night, however, he unleashed this hatred upon his vile captors and took a knife to the throats of every bandit he could find. Seeing his bloody work completed, the boy, now a young man, fled with his fellow nomads from their chains, seeking a new start. Sadly, many of them would not get that start. Due to years of malnourishment and mistreatment at the hands of the bandits, many of the nomads did not have the physical strength or health to fend off sickness or predators, leading many to their demise. Over the following years, as the nomads struggles to find a new home in this wild frontier, more and more began to die off, until only the young man remained with hate in his heart and rage for all the injustices he had faced in his time. He would continue to travel from place to place taking work as a mercenary or hired blade. It didn’t really matter what he had to do, murder, protection, tax collection, as long as he got paid and he could afford to drink away the guilt of his actions. He would never truly belong anywhere, never able to find peace, never able to quell the rage that burned inside of him. Most tragically, he would not find love, for who could love such a man so wretched as he? One whose morals are dictated by the jingling of coins and a tankard of beer? Unfortunately, nobody could. The Wretch, aged 64, dies bitter and riddled with guilt, old and alone in a hovel in the farthest corners of the world. There’s really not much to be said about the final brother. The third brother, as you might recall, was neither fortunate or unfortunate. As he grew up in his small little village, he saw his fair share of unpleasantness, from hangings to the occasional small bandit raid. On the other hand however, he grew up under the guiding influence of his adoptive mother and father, learning about the virtues and rules of being an honorable man. In his life, he strived to apply all he had learned to his actions. No matter how bad the harvest, no matter how badly the village was raided, he learned to pick himself up by the bootstraps and get on with his life. With the passing of his adoptive parents later in life, he would take over their farm, keeping alive the legacy of his family in the village. He would also settle down with a nice woman from the neighboring village, fathering many children and then later on being grandfather to some grandchildren even. As he grew older, his children began to tend the farm as his joints grew weak, and he saw many seasons come and go in his final years. The Father, aged 83, dies in his small cottage, surrounded by his most beloved children and grandchildren in his final moments.