Ah, yes. Valiant heroes... Nay, there were heroes among them, to be sure, but the old man is simply embellishing, I assure you. A good half of them were sellswords, if not more. I’ve known this old man since those very days.

There were indeed a great many battles, true enough. But he, as a rule, would merely stand to the side, barking orders and shuffling his cards... Ah, the cards! Go on, old man...

When I first met him, there was no such deck. In truth, without me, he would have just stood there and watched his “valiant heroes” being trampled into the mud.

Wait a minute! He’s far too old to know about that. Clearly, his grandchildren made him read them fairy tales all night again, and he takes the darn things far too much to heart. Last time, I caught him standing on his dresser, shrieking, “I am the terror that flaps in the night!” A ghastly sight, truth be told. Very well, he’s going to be pondering this for a good while longer. Let us skip ahead and continue on the pages of this story!*