Ah, and so our story began. Not with a great hero, nor with a villain of grandeur. Nay, but with a simple bandit, a survivor forged from the dirt and spit of those so-called great people. Do you know what it's like to go hungry? Not the type in which one casually says "I feel like eating because I can," no, no, no—but true hunger, one that makes you forget all complaint, all can'ts and won'ts, hmm? Heh, I suppose I have, as has this man called Draven.

  He was a pragmatist and, like many in this world of shit, he had no last name, no nobility, just his mind—crafted not from education but from watching those around him, mimicking them and learning, making what he could his and bluffing the rest. Those who worked got paid; he always made sure of it. And so he gained a last name from a title given to him by others: Draven the Pragmatist.

  Now as for the Church—'Hope not for salvation, strive for vengeance,' they proclaim. A lie, cloaked in sanctimony. Their knights cut down innocents in pursuit of evil and call it necessary sacrifice. I struggle writing these words as I try not to laugh. They are nothing more than bloodlusted soldiers wrapping their bloodied fingers around any excuse they can find for their petty vengeance, pretending to be better than they really are.

  Yet still, they are dangerous, all nine Churches. And Draven was now playing a dangerous game—he became an unwilling piece on their chess board and he knew it. He needed a way out, but he also knew himself—he didn't have what it took to escape. But he had a plan: if he had to become a piece, then he would choose the player that used him. Of course, you'll need to read on if you wish to know more on that subject.

  Let us move on to the Church of Knowledge. 'I am Wise, so I am powerful.' This motto is quite good, but what is wisdom? Experience? Understanding of one's situation, of the change in the wind, of oneself? Draven, for example—he had wisdom. He understood his place in the world and knew what he could face and what he could not. Yet often the Church of Knowledge confuses their intelligence for wisdom. It's understandable, of course. They are educated, yet that same education is a double-edged sword. They think they know best for the world because of it.

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  You must understand: both things have to do with understanding, yet both understand differently. Intelligence can be taught, yet wisdom must be gained through life experience or the life experience of others—and not just another, but multiple others. Draven's tactics on that day were driven by wisdom. He had seen what men do when confronted by lust and pride, and he used it. His tactics were based on his understanding of human nature, a skill gained through years of survival, learning what to say and not say, how to act and not act. The Church allowed their hubris to outweigh their wisdom many times, and many times shall they continue.

  As for me—well, who is to say? I believe I am wise; I believe I am intelligent. Yet only one who walks my path can argue with it. Perhaps hundreds or thousands of years from now, there will be those who walk my path and judge me for a fool. Perhaps they will be right, but who is to say? People judge success as measurement; in some ways it's true, but luck also factors in. So perhaps if one is more successful than I, then it was luck. Regardless, they would be able to say that they—whoever they are—were greater than I, Aventus Monstrous.

  Hmm, but enough of this. I am now veering away. I promised you my thoughts and so you've had them. Let us return to the past once more—to Draven, where you will find some of the answers to the questions I'm sure you have, to Serena Monstrous and her connection to me, as I'm sure you're wondering. Let us return to my story, and do not worry—I shall share my thoughts again when I wish to do so.

  AVENTUS MONSTROUS