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Name: Abel Anthony Val-jean
Age: 19
Height: 5'9
Personality: Abel grew up in a wonderful household after his mother married into wealth. Before hand he had lived like another other peasant which made him humble yet also a hard-worker who always yearned for more. Abel can be hot-headed at times but with training from his step-father as well as the archer which took him as a student, he can keep a cool head. The man is very kind and when he does not have to cold and hard, he will help those in need. This being said he is human, which means often - even in war- he will help those he thinks are in danger. This was the reason he was captured. A member of his group had been hit and when he returned to help, he was ambush. He was in one of the high ranks and it took four soldiers to get him under control. It advise not to kill him as it seemed he was contented to a very wealthy family in the opposing side, which he could be used as a bargaining chip. Currently he is help and often taken to the prince, his intelligence appearing when informed that he had beaten many of the guards at chess as well as other games.

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How long had it been since he was taken? Why would they keep him in the home of the king for so long? Either way the young blonde was woken up once more by the guard. The man determine to beat the prisoner at chess for once. Abel sighed softly and began to play with the man once again, within a few moves he had won and the guard simply muttered about Abel must have cheated to win so many times. The young man ignored it though, not paying much attention as another guard came in. Abel's present had been spread around, servants whispering and gossiping about the young archer.

The young man ignored the guard for awhile as the man tried to figure out how Abel had won so quickly. Deep blue eyes staring out upon the water before him. Even in this tower he was still allowed to see the beauty and of the world and truthfully he was more than happy to have some time here rather than on the field. He could still remember the warm blood spilling through is fingers and the smell of metal in his nostrils as blood and metals filled the air. He was injured from the knight who had been able to get a blow on his arm, the bandaged wrapped around his left forearm and the pain shooting through now and again. Scars littered his body from the past and recent hand-to-hand combat encounters.

The guard was called away, to look for the prince which the man could only groan softly before agreeing and leaving to find the brat. Being left alone the young man was allowed to reflect on his life. It was funny to think he still ended up behind bars, how many other had ended back from his childhood home. Even after being taken from the streets with his mother and being put in a wealthy family to be tutored and trained to be but the utmost loyal subject as well as a well groom gentlemen. He was very loyal to the crown which once had been his own enemy and before the war a very clean boy who always wore his suits and groomed hair. Now he sat on his cot, hair a mess, face still dirty and now wearing plain trousers and a loose, ripped shirt. His leather vest, gloves, and padding taken away in his capture.

Once the prince was found, the guard began walking him back into the castle, talking between each other as if the prince was not here.

"...he keeps winning! I can't understand how - I swear he must be cheating, there is no way he could win so many times in a row or so quickly. Its unnatural!"

"Perhaps he is a witch--or you could be horrible at chess."