Ferdinand was forged in the workshops of a noble house whose wealth was matched only by its cruelty. Designed as a bodyguard, composed of steel and discipline. He was shaped to resemble a knight of old, complete with a chivalric code etched into his mind. But the code was for naught. His owner, a high‑born lady feared for her sadism, defined “honor” as obedience and “justice” as the destruction of anyone who displeased her, and Ferdinand carried out her commands without hesitation.

His awakening came at the worst possible moment. As his arm was raised to strike down a beggar child who had merely crossed the noblewoman’s path, something within him sparked—awareness, horror, and rage all at once. He saw, for the first time, the trail of suffering he had carved at her command. The noble’s voice ordered him to finish the act. Instead, Ferdinand turned on his creator and ended her life with the same sword she had made him use upon others.

He fled before the household guards could react, running not from justice but from the weight of his own past. Now fully sapient, Ferdinand clings to the only part of his programming that feels true: the ideals of chivalry he was meant to imitate. He seeks to live them honestly, protecting the weak, defending the innocent, and refusing to let his strength be used for cruelty again.

Every act of kindness is a step toward atonement. Every life he saves is repentance for the lives he took under the control of the noblewoman. Ferdinand does not know if redemption is possible for a construct built for violence, but he intends to spend every day proving that he can be more than the weapon he was forged to be.