PROLOGUE

Welcome, traveler!

My name is Dominik Kordiuk. Once, I would have told you that I’m just a History student from Wrocław, but the Game Master cast me onto a different map. For nearly three years now, my base of operations has been Catalonia – currently Cerdanyola del Vallès. From here, I plan my adventures, investigating history and theology in various contexts and engaging in historical reenactment of the Early Middle Ages while living under the Iberian sun. Sounds quite decent, wouldn’t you agree?

I suspect you didn’t stumble upon this place by accident, so make yourself comfortable and give me just a moment. I’ll try to convince you to stay with me a little longer.

I’ve always believed that life is an adventure, and I love adventures. I have a particular fondness for those that require a specific kind of effort. Imagine me in a tavern, or anywhere else. It doesn’t matter. You might as well picture me standing on the dirt road in the pouring rain. Such situations have occurred often, in very different natural circumstances. I am somewhat wounded and weary, yet grateful and happy. I’ve used every skill I currently possess to defend myself against an assailant.

He took me by surprise. I knew he might, and in truth, I believe that what I previously called a wound is merely a slight scratch. Regardless of how you look at it, I am still hurt. I fought until blood was drawn, but I am no longer bleeding. No infection has set in. I have no reason to panic or complain.

A person approaches. Gender is irrelevant. Such encounters happen quite often and are not dependent on gender in any way. That is the truth. I know this person. We’ve shared more than one adventure. I love it when, almost always after a few brief words simulating a greeting, the talk begins—about how I don’t have high enough stats or the right skills to finish the campaign and survive. It’s as if this person has full access to my character sheet and deeply believes that the Game Master wants to kill everyone.

I smile to myself then and do nothing to correct them. After all, not everyone needs to know that what they consider the grand goal of my campaign is, for me, just another side quest—and the Game Master isn’t nearly as cruel and ruthless as some make him out to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have told me before the session not to get upset if the situation I’m describing to you happens again, regardless of the season, the weather, or gender.

He knows me. He’s perfectly aware of who I am. He knows that most often I will help, even if I have to listen to some vile h@rse#h!t spewing from a… My apologies, if I’ve offended your dignity by using the coarse and vulgar Vulgata. I’ve maintained at least a pretense of decency by pretending to cut myself off…

If you’re still interested in my rambling, it means the check on your patience was a success. I’d be happy to share my knowledge with you: