My persona story requires a small bit of background. My best friend, Thaddeus Zukowski (known in the SCA as Tadeus Zukov) and I look very much alike. (So much so, that we are frequently asked if we are brothers, and reply, in stereo, "No, we're long lost identical strangers -- and they don't get much stranger than us!") His persona story involves being the son of a deposed minor Polish nobleman.
As for me, the short story is: a French Jew of Polish parents, making a living as best I can by the sweat of my brain rather than my brow. I am soon to enter the employ of a wealthy baroness, who wishes me to travel about to her far-flung counting-houses, check upon the accounting done there, report any unusual situations to her, and implement such corrections as she sees fit (with my advice of course).
When pressed for details of parentage (after all, it does seem odd that my parents are Polish, yet I was born and raised in France), it gets a touch (or perhaps I should say, a tad) more complicated. The Story:
Mother was a maid at a tavern, in a small city somewhere in Poland. Father was rather well connected to the money and power of the city. Whether he was part of the nobility who lived in the castle atop the hill, or merely a successful merchant, or whatever, I do not know. Neither they nor my maternal grandparents would ever speak of his parents, and Father had so many diverse skills that he could easily have made quite a living at any of them -- or he could have learned them in the leisure time that the nobility has in such excess. In any event, one fine day (well, actually, a dark and stormy night), he came to the tavern, and met my mother... and they fell in love. After a few months, they announced to my grandparents that they intended to wed.
Aside from the possible problem of a nobleman marrying a commoner, there was one other problem with this. As you may have guessed from the fact that I am Jewish, so was she. (After all, by Jewish law, you are Jewish if and only if, either your mother was Jewish, or you converted. The father simply doesn't count.) He, however, was not. This situation did not please either set of parents. Mother's parents resigned themselves to it, perhaps aided by his great wealth, and the fact that he did not intend to make Mother convert, or raise their children Christian. Father's parents, on the other claw, were quite angry. My parents (though of course they weren't that yet) fled across the Germanic states, finally stopping, settling, and marrying, in the little town of The Beautiful Waters, in northeast France, near Strasbourg. About ten months later, I was born. (Yes, the delay is quite well documented, spankyouverymuch!)
The only other clue I have to my paternal grandparents' identity is that one day, when I was about six years old, I overheard Father crying. Mother asked him what was wrong, and he said that he had received news from Poland that his father had died. She asked him if he intended to go back to Poland and take over. Take over what, I couldn't quite understand. It was a word totally unknown to me, and could have been the name of their town, or some company, or household. (Of course I didn't dare ask, as that would reveal that I had been eavesdropping!) Unfortunately, I can no longer recall the sound of it. He said he didn't give a fig for it, that his younger brother could have it, and that it was all falling apart anyway.
In the meantime, and thereafter, I was not given a very strong religious education nor inclinations. (Indeed, my wife is a Christian, albeit not strong in faith either. However, not to repeat the mistake of my parents, each of us has the approval of the other's parents, and each set of parents has met and approved the other.) I have, however, acquired quite a strong education in secular matters, albeit often from religious sources. I can read and write quite well, in both French and English (plus a smattering of transliterated Hebrew, and the occasional phrase of Latin), and can pick apart words based on Latin or Greek roots fairly well in most languages. I can wield a sword and bow, and even do some crude work in cloth, leather, wood, metals, and even glass. I have read much of history, philosophy, literature, and poetry, and have written some stories and poems of my own, plus many comical songs, despite my lack of singing ability. However, I mainly excel at computing, mostly with Arabic numerals, but also passably in the Roman and Egyptian systems. This has been my primary means of making a living (and usually a fairly comfortable one), ever since my parents were murdered in an Easter Riot while I was studying in Paris (and our house was burned down, and all our worldly goods stolen).
(Of course, the local law was of no help in that matter. They care not what happens to a Jewess and a "traitor to his faith", as we found out each time we were burgled, vandalized, assaulted, or harassed, which happened several times a year. This is one of many reasons why I have stayed in much more enlightened Paris, in addition to its far greater variety of cultural (and monetary) opportunities. Even here, though, we Jews are not particularly welcome, so I am considering moving to Scotland. It is said that there, a greeting is equally likely to be either hello or shalom. Luckily, that should be easy, as the two nations are currently quite friendly to each other. Pundits claim that this friendship is mainly to annoy their common enemy, the English. Unfortunately, France's desire to annoy England does not extend quite so far as to welcome Jews, in counterpoint to England's infamous Tower of York.)
Just a reminder, for those of you still unclear on the concept: the above is FICTION. Some details are true, such as my wife being a Christian and my being able to do some crude handicrafts, but the main parts are Just A Story!