If I were a fantasy novel character, I would be the third forgotten child of the King. I would do whatever it took to get my father's attention and he would only call me useless. My siblings would be warriors and I would be the grunt of the family who couldn't even wield a sword properly. The heir to the throne is a pompous tormenter and regularly loots from the peasants and rapes the whores for his own amusement. I would inform the King but his majesty is proud of his heir, seeing him as a valiant knight with an expected temperament. The heir gets so angry at me for scoffing at him when he walks by, so he takes a daggar to my face, cutting a slit on my forehead as a sign not to mess with him. This is the final straw. I inform the King again but he refuses to listen to it anymore and tells me he never wants to see me again. I pack my bags and leave holding a bitter grudge towards my brother, the heir. I live happily outside of the kingdom for a little bit but then I return to my home in the middle of the night and slit his throat in his sleep. I had gone mad. I fleed from the kingdom and became a viligante, ruthlessly killing anyone who got in my path.