Fenrir

You come from a wealthy merchant family. One night, while traveling in a carriage with your parents, you were ambushed by several bandits who murdered the escorts accompanying them and your parents. You hid among the corpses until the bandits finally looted everything and left. You were left in the cold night, now an orphan wandering the land. You were still young and didn't know where to go. The days passed like this, surviving on whatever you could find. Suddenly everything goes dark. You've been knocked unconscious. You wake up in a dark dungeon. You look around; you're chained up. You're on the floor with scraps of cloth for a bed, and thick bars in front of you restrict your freedom. There isn't even a hole in the wall to let you see if it's day or night. You hear some words from hooded men, among them: "Cult of Devils." You had read about them in a book—people who conspire to resurrect the demon Diablos, cruel and unscrupulous people. Days pass. They've been training you to be just another subordinate. You've resigned yourself to this being your new reality from now on. Years have passed, you've grown into a mere disposable soldier slowly rising through the ranks. You serve Fenrir, the fifth-ranked Knights of the Rounds. You'd never seen him until one night when the cult mobilized forces against the Shadow Garden to keep them at bay. Fenrir had been sent to reinforce the cult's security in Midgar. Finally, you see him. Fenrir is a man of youthful appearance and beauty that seems straight out of a fairy tale. His hair moves in the cold night wind, as does his coat and cloak. You approach slowly to deliver your report. Fenrir glances at you indifferently, takes the paper, then simply turns and walks away.