On a day to day basis Daniel Steel acts as the personal servant of Lord Pyro the self styled "First Zamorakian" and ruler of forinthry and Zamorak's Union. As a personal ally of Pyro himself Danny holds no rank whatsoever within the Kingdom of Forinthry and no clearly defined rank within Zamorak's Union although he will always clearly state that he is a member. Danny can be best viewed as a "fixer" for Lord Pyro, willing to turn his hand to virtually anything in pursuit of his masters goals. His main talents are in spying, sabotage, subversion and assassination but he also maintains a number of more humble civilian skills such as cooking to maintain his various covers.
In his various roles around the world Danny is known to have posed as the following: Pirate, Merchant, Chef, Tailor, Bartender, Businessman, Envoy, Naval officer, Crime lord, Builder and soldier of fortune (not complete list). He is known to have worked in almost every continent on Gielinor although few can ever really say what he was up to.
I was born in Falador in the year 65 of the 5th Age to good Saradominist parents. As a family we must have seemed perfect and we were, perfect to look at, at least.
My parents were very severe in their devotion to the one true god of Gielinor as they called him. And in those early days I never really thought anything of it personally. Of course I worshipped Saradomin because Mum and Dad did and everyone else I knew did and that was all there was to it. In the first seven years of my life I never questioned anything they told me about him. I found the lessons about him slightly dull at times and I didn't like it when Mum gave me a "thick ear" as she called it for not paying attention when they talked about Him or when Dad got his belt out because I'd misread something from the Holy texts I was supposed to be reciting to them. Did I resent them for that? Maybe a little but not really. It was just the way that life was.
That was up until just a few days shy of my eighth birthday. Even after all these years I can still remember that day so vividly. It was a glorious day outside, the sun beating down so fiercely that everything seemed to be shining back at me through the window, the colours brighter and clearer than I'd ever seen them. The sort of day when every almost-eight-years-old boy wants to be outside playing with his friends, especially when his birthday is coming up so soon and he's already in a party mood.
Unfortunately my parents had decided that now I was older I should be able to spend more time on my religious studies, in the hopes that I would one day be able to train to be a priest of Saradomin. The news had not gone down well with me of course as you can well imagine. Telling a young boy that time he thought he was going to have free to play was actually time he was going to spend studying is always going to upset him, particularly when the news is unexpected and a seemingly undeserved punishment. The good weather had only worsened my mood and by the time I saw all my friends running past the window, enjoying themselves I was seething.
Which is why I broke the cardinal rule of our household. The one thing that I had always sensed was a bad idea but had never been brave enough to try and find out just how bad it would be. I cursed Saradomin, loudly and in front of my parents. I said that I hated him, that I thought he was stupid and that I was never going to study one more stupid thing about him.
Silly, ridiculous words, the tantrum of a child, nothing more but my parents didn't quite see it that way. My father was worse, his rage seemed to be greater than anything I could even imagine, seconds after I had spoken I already wanted to take back every word and crawl into some crack in the earth to hide but it was too late, he was already beyond reason. He overturned the desk I was working at first, then he threw me to the ground and gave several hard kicks that slammed into my ribs and made me curl up into a ball. I was in tears at this point, thinking that my father was so angry he might actually kill me but mostly not thinking anything at all except that I wanted it to stop. Instead he started beating me with his fists over and over again.
I can't actually remember what happened after that, it all goes dark for awhile but I don't know if I passed out or if I'm repressing the memory of what came next. I remember still being in the same place hours later after it was finally over. After the incident, I didn't speak again for almost two weeks and my broken ribs didn't fully heal until much, much later than that. Eventually I recovered, at least outwardly I got back to something closer to the person I'd been before.
It was my mother that apologised first for the beating I had taken. Nonchalantly at first, but more heartfelt when it became clear that I wouldn't speak to anyone. They told me that they loved me and that they had only done it to protect me from Zamorak's corruption but the words sounded like lies to my ears. My decision had already been made, I would be leaving home, just as soon as I could find a way to escape.