I was not there, with Sigismund, that night at the Pettitoe, when the Beginning of the End of the World came about. So, you see, I was not a part of it, and therefore have no responsibility in it, contrary to what people say. It is because I took an interest in the story, and came to be at every other incident in this travesty, that they have named me: The Bard of I'll Fortune, or the one responsible for the undoing of the world. Marhall be cursed, they even named me the usurper's son, yet it is not true. I am but a simple Bard, and Bard be my name, the one I prefer, anyway, though they have called me by many names in my time on this earth. In a secluded glen, where two trade routes meet, lies the Pettitoe Inn.
Tomorrow is Wyrdsday, a day of worship to the God of Destiny, and traveler's have found refuge here from the danger of the wilderness. If not for the Sacred Fire, monstrous horrors will pour from the mountains to hunt for human flesh, and the dead will rise to feast upon the living.
Author of the historical fantasy series, Kingship, Egil R. R. Moe turns to pure fantasy.
