Indeed lies, both white and otherwise, were the basis of James Maclene's entire existence. Lying was his forte. His business, his pleasure, and everything between.
From whence did he come? Well, hadn't you heard? His parents were murdered when he was but a babe, and the fae folk took pity and raised him as their own. Or there was always the tale of his father, a heroic knight killed for honor, his mother dying soon after of a broken heart.
Deny it, will you? Fine. But let's be frank - the truth is nowhere near as entertaining.
In all honesty James Maclene had been raised by his grandmother in a small country tavern. His mother became impregnated by a stranger passing through at the tender age of 15, and left her son with her mother to be raised 'properly.' As a result, his youth in the Woodlands was rather wholesome. Uneventful. Quite... plain. Bussing tables and doing chores, his greatest joys were found when a bard would pass through, exchanging tales of faraway grandeur for a bowl of soup; or a card sharp would hustle a few rounds, leaving the inn with ten times the amount he'd entered.
These became his heroes. And it was they he was destined to become.
And thus as he aged his mind became a sponge, soaking in every tale, feignt, and bluff the travelers passing through offered. As adolescence passed and he became a young adult, Jamie's confidence grew, and despite his grandmother's protests, he began to practice and hone the many tricks he'd spent so many hours observing.
Dispute it, will you? Then why don't we settle it over a round of dice?
Eventually Jamie learned that to remain in one place too long allowed only for repetition. The same faces, the same poor bluffs. Familiarity led only to stagnataion, and his feet itched to move on and find new subjects for the art he'd inherited. But something kept him in the Woodlands.
That something was a young woman named Grace.
Grace possessed every quality Jamie lacked. Honesty. Perserverence. Level-headedness.
She was gorgeous. A summer blonde with fair skin and kind eyes, she worked as a seamstress in her mother's shop, and he worshipped her as a goddess for nearly three years. She condemned Jamie's choice of profession, despising his ease at hustling honest people. He often promised, and attempted, to change, but old habits were hard to break.
When the day eventually came where he asked her to marry him, the response was clear and cold, burning him to the core:
I love you, Jamie... but I don't think you'll ever grow up.
And thus Grace left him.
Broken-hearted and bitter, Jamie left the Woodlands immediately, vowing to live the high life as a carefree rogue... To forget Grace and his humble background... And never, ever, to make himself vulnerable to a woman again, so long as he should live.
And thus he came to buy passage abroad, purchasing a fresh start complete with new faces and endless possibilities. If the weight of his rejection sat heavy on his shoulders, he was keen to keep it hidden, and to none would he share or even hint the wounds of the past.
His front was that of an artist - scrimshaw and oil paintings. His living was respectable, though hardly enough to scrape by. And thus he resumed his hustling, and thrived in the new land known as RhyDin. He became the acquaintance, and enemy, of many in a relatively short span of time, not that this was unforeseen...
He was, afterall, James Maclene. The heir of kings, the guest of Gods, and whatever other nonsense you were willing to observe.
What, you don't believe him? Well...
Why don't we settle it over a few rounds of dice?
