Galen
Born to a whore, Galen spent his earliest years raised in the company of harlots, until his mother caught the consumption in his seventh year and died abed. The mistress of the house tossed him out on the street. Old enough to earn his own keep, she said. And earn he did, in his own way. Like a sparrow who, pushed from the nest, spreads its wings and learns for the first time it could fly, so did Galen spread his little fingers, his lithe little fingers, and learn to purloin the pockets of the merchants, so pompous and proud.
Life was hard and 'twas a wonder he managed to make it to his eighteenth year at all, forced to be party to one gang and then the next. One day he plucked the wrong purse, the purse of a wizard of the college. The man seemed more bemused than anything and exceedingly intrigued by Galen. He told him that he had a talent, a knack for sorcery as it were. Galen wanted to hear none of this. What did he need of books and spells? Could not eat them. Would not know where to sell them. He could not even read them.
The wizard smiled knowingly, then set the hem of Galen's shirt on fire with a snap of his fingers.
After that, Galen wanted to learn. Tutored and funded by the wizard, Galen somehow managed to make it through the trials and gain enrollment in the college, all thanks to his mysterious benefactor. But after two years he finds his studies to be much harder than he thought. Try as he might, he feels his only aptitude is for the "useless" magic. The sort of parlor tricks that makes lights where there were none, or puts candles out with a puff. The other students, all wealthy and connected, despise him. And of his mysterious benefactor he's heard no word in months.