Born to the myth of a father he never knew, Benjamin Rodgers was raised by his mother in the harsh frontier of Dalwe Heights. His father, Jefferson Rodgers, a legendary mountain man, became a symbol of strength and purpose in Benjamin’s young mind. But when his mother died of tuberculosis, Benjamin was left to survive alone at thirteen, scavenging gold in abandoned mines. There, in the dark, he learned his first lesson in survival—violence is not a sin; it is a solution.

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In his search for meaning, Rodgers eventually found Jefferson, only to be confronted with a bitter, decrepit old man—petty and hollow. The god he had idolized was just another coward. This encounter seeded a lifelong bitterness: the world is built on lies, myths crafted to cover weakness.

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At twenty-three, Rodgers joined the Federal Army, quickly rising through the ranks as a cavalry officer known for swift, brutal raids. For a time, he believed in the cause. But a tragic incident during the War Between the States—a boy with a rifle, a grieving mother, and two shots Rodgers could never take back—fractured his ideals. The chain of command became a thin veil over a truth he could no longer ignore: society thrives on violence but punishes those who wield it.

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The Battle of Maneto Creek, later called "The Blood Creek Massacre," was Rodgers’ final severance. Though his ruthless victory effectively ended Confederate resistance, Washington stripped him of command, the media branded him “Righteous” as a scarlet label of disgrace.

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Rodgers saw their hypocrisy. If civility was to exist, it would not come from politics or paper laws—it would come from men like him, imposing order on a savage, ungrateful world.

 

But such a campaign would not be cheap. Rodgers turned his sights west, obsessed with building a war chest to fund his self-appointed crusade—a crusade to tame the frontier by force.