He fights for the light scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the streets of a lonely village. The sun just rising above the horizon but already he's hard at work. Dew forms on the grass as he kneads his dough with the expert skills taught to him by his beloved Oma. Sitting on the shelves of his humble store, the bread shines a golden brown, the texture delicate and flakey, yet full of layers and air that makes every bite a delight to not just the nose and mouth, but also the ears as the bread breaks between your teeth.
He has never fought in battle before, but he has a cause he will fight for and a passion he would die for. The smiles on the faces of his patrons, now only a wispy memory from times of peace, times he would do anything to return to them. He fights for the will of his village, his pride as an Ionian and, more than anything, the joy of a simple morning, accompanied by the taste of delicious bread.
It is unknown if he has yet perished or still fights to this day, if he is still alive he is likely still fighting just as hard and passionately as day one, and he will continue this fight until either peace is restored to the First Lands or he has danced his last with the Kindred and reunited with his beloved Oma.