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Born the only son of the Marquis Lyron' dear, widowed sister, Amir lead a privileged life. His mother was sickly but doting, making sure that her son had only the best tutors and wanted for nothing. And when she died, he was taken into Lyron' care and raised alongside the his youngest daughter. For all intents and purposes, the two children were treated like siblings--sharing playmates, eating dinner together, and reading eachother's diaries aloud to friends. As a young teen, Amir's raw talent with a blade quickly became apparent. So much so, that the Marquessa-Consort, arranged for him to be tutored in martial subjects by the House's previous Sword. Youthful cockiness and pride hampered his early years of training but by the time he was in his early twenties, Amir had learned to temper his emotions and master his movements. Even if the old Sword could still knock him on his ass. He was biding his time, hoping to be appointed the new house Sword as his mentor aged, when Marquis Lyron passed. A storm had taken the life of his uncle and the entirety of his ship to the ocean floor. The new Marquis was quick to stir up the ranks, putting fresh faces in new positions. Including Amir. For the next few years, he would serve as House Melaeris' faithful and occasionally outspoken Sword. Many a white journal was put up decrying the practice of Thralldom or naming and shaming those who mistreated their thralls. Not a single soul was surprised when Amir would later go on to become a disciple of the newly discovered Skald and a Liberator. Or that he supported the reforms on the laws concerning thralls--even if he contested they weren't good enough. Still, even if he objected to many of Thrax's policies, he still fought dutifully for the Great House during the siege of Arx and later during the war against the so called Pirate King.

Amir was never small, not even as a child. Husky, tall, and built more like a pillar than a man--he cuts an intimidating figure. It matches his strong jaw, the line of it chiseled and sharp. Regal, high cheekbones add to his severe appearance. As does his short cropped, curly, black hair. It's a bit too stern to be considered classically handsome but to a Thraxian? He's quite the catch.

Confident but not arrogant, Amir carries himself like the nobility he is. There is a calm self-assuredness to his words, as if he's certain of every sentence he speaks and the ideals that he strives for. Pride is a word for it. Stubborness is another. The lord refuses to bend or cave when it comes to defending what he considers to be just or honorable. That's not to say he doesn't know how to be convincing or charming in his arguments, just that he doesn't see a point to brushing things under the rug. His wanderlust and love for freedom have at times put him at odds with his own ideals and to this day, Amir struggles to balance the two. Duty can be a heavy burden to bear.