I don’t know who will pick this up. I doubt I’ll keep it, and I doubt very much I’ll be around as you’re reading it. Nevertheless I’ll write it still. Perhaps it’s because there is a small part of me, no matter how much I deny it, that still wants someone; anyone, to know the truth. Let me tell you about the Ithri. Let me tell you how the Menra tribes passed form this world. Then let us see whether the patriot within you still remains.
I feel I ought to give you a fair warning though. Avoid any association with this book should its existence come to the attention of anyone within the Tower Council. In fact, extend that to include their relatives. Actually, you might want to avoid association with the book should it be found in Carth at all. You see, I have trod on a great many toes.
Lori looked up, and indeed, within the crowded tap room were two shieldbarers looking at him. He looked down at the book again, turning it over to see the cover. An unremarkable black cover, with a golden sun placed in the centre. Looking back up the two men were frowning and making no effort to conceal who they were staring at. In his mind Lori named them Pugface and Monobrow, due to various features they possessed. Lori shrugged to himself, it seemed like he was already in trouble he thought, might as well keep reading. He took a nonchalant bite of his apple, and turned the page.
Ah! Good. You’re still with me. Now here’s the tricky part, where does one start a story such as mine? In the beginning? Yes, that is sound advice. Alas, like many things, once you probe beneath the surface it fails to hold up to scrutiny or bestow the wisdom you once thought it possessed. Suffice to say my trouble is this; where is the beginning? Is it my arrival at Hezgorth or Ridden, could it be during my time spent in Menra? No, I think not. In this instance I feel it is clear; the beginning is to mean the beginning, and nothing else.