His name was Blake Baker, a good man, an Officer of the law.
He was born some thirty years ago, in some whorehouse down the Harbor Street, his mother one of the ladies, his father a sailor. Baker never met his mother after his first day.
Raised in an orphanage, more of a dormitory for the Robber Baron's present and future little workers.
He saw the Baron betraying his wife, the director laid down on her table. They saw him. Blake, the unfortunate, wrong place, wrong time, he didn't mean to pry.
The Baron was never liked, yet, nobody would rise against him.
"He's never gonna let us go!" they shout, the few of the kids who didn't lose their limbs. Blake was just passing by, he didn't mean to... Baker, the nosy.
All his life, Blake had been too much in the wrong places, at the exact wrong times. Yet, he was a good man. Frightened by his past yes, but a good man.
At 16, Blake Baker enlisted in the Holy Imperial Army. Baker, Officer.