I never liked Lokarot, even though it was my hometown.
I lived in a noble family in Lokarot with my parents and an older sister. Being the only boy in the family, I had started learning how to be a noble from a very young age. I performed well in my etiquette lessons, but my physical training, such as horseback riding, was mediocre at best. I loved the arts, the chirping of birds perched on the eaves, and the sound of a gentle breeze sweeping past the threshold.
But Lokarot had no music; it was like a stodgy old man, solemn and stubborn. The people here were the same, caring more about tangible profits and the taste on their tongues than the profound emotions that touch the soul. There were no artists in Lokarot.
Yet, I was born different. I learned everything about art from the books at home and the tales of traveling merchants. Just hearing their simplistic descriptions of music captivated me. I felt I was naturally an artist.
