Prologue

Prologue

Note from the Author

When Niri first approached me about writing the story of the Last Bloodborne, the first question that came to mind was, “Why?”

For anyone not aware, Niri is widely renowned within the Shadow World for the many wonderous stories of adventure and magic she records in her journals and then later sells at her well-respected Thaumaturge - which she co-owns with her friends Rhia and Aeron in the caverns beneath Stone Keep.

As we sat at a secluded table that day enjoying a pint of beer in a pub on a side street not far from the Alchemist’s Shop in Riverton, the more I thought about it, the less I could fathom why Niri would need the likes of me - the middling author of an obscure newsletter with few prospects and even fewer subscribers.

“Because I do not know the full story of all the other protagonists,” she replied when I suggested as much. “And I do not wish to do the research necessary to find out. Such a task would take more time than I have the patience for in my present circumstances.” She took a swig of her beer and wiped her lips with her sleeve.

I did not wish to seem ungrateful. I was down to my last few coins and could certainly use the work. Any work. “But why me?” I felt compelled to ask at the risk of seeming impudent.

Niri raised one finger for each point as she spoke. “You are local. You are known to be a man possessed of honour and integrity. And you showed up for our meeting. The first two authors I contacted lacked even that simple courtesy.”

It was an honest enough answer, if perhaps a little humbling. I took a big gulp of beer and wondered who those other two authors might have been. The writing community in Riverton was small, assuming she had not searched outside the town, which she might very well have done.

I fell quiet for a while, lost in my thoughts and sipping my beer. When I came out of my thoughts again, I noticed Niri staring at me with slitted eyes as if sizing me up. She seemed to come to a decision, for she pulled a thick sheaf of papers from a pack at her hip and thrust it across the table at me. “I have prepared my notes, which you are free to keep and use as you see fit. I have no need of them now.”

“Um,” I said hesitantly as I looked at the stack of papers. They were tied by a length of string and seemed quite disorganised.

“The loose pages on top contain the names and addresses of the people you will need to interview to complete your research. The third is a contract outlining the terms of our arrangement. I am sure you will find everything agreeable. The remainder are the appropriate notes from my journal.”

I looked up as a bell over the pub door jangled. A pleasant-looking young man entered the establishment and glanced around as though looking for someone. Spotting Niri, he smiled and waved, then worked his way through the tables towards our table.

Niri saw him and beamed, “This is my man come looking for me.” She dug in her pocket and tossed a few coins on the table. “Send me a draft when you are done. You can leave it at the Alchemist’s Shop here in town. They will get word to me.”

She extended a hand, which I shook most gratefully. “Best of luck!” she offered, then jumped up and rushed into the young man’s arms. They embraced and kissed rather ardently for such a public place. The last I saw of them, they were wandering off into the depths of the pub, holding hands and nudging up against one another quite amicably as they walked.

After they had gone, I recalled my own limited history in that regard and thought with a tinge of envy that they looked quite happy together.

With a wistful sigh, I returned to the stack of papers and quickly scanned the contact sheet. I did not recognise any names, though I did note that some of the addresses were in very distant places. I shook my head silently. The research would be no easy task. No wonder Niri had not wished to take on such a project.

Setting those pages aside, I read through the contract and was pleasantly surprised at the terms, which were indeed agreeable. Niri had been most generous in her commission, having been so thoughtful to include a small upfront stipend for expenses, which I could draw from a local bank. I exhaled in relief, knowing my immediate financial problems had suddenly been resolved.

I took another swig of beer and then made a start at the first few paragraphs of Niri’s notes. I was soon captivated by what I found hidden in those pages. Unable to put it down, I read until the pub had closed, and I had been forced to relocate to my home in a rented room at the back of a local Blacksmith’s shop. There, I continued reading by the light of a single candle long into the wee hours that night. As I finished the last page just before dawn and set that single sheet on the stack with all the others, I found my heart beating faster with anticipation as I thought of the story I had just read and the story I already imagined I might write.

Despite the late hour and an utter lack of sleep, I sat at my small desk and pulled out my quill and paper while the story was still fresh in my mind. There was a great deal of research to do, but I was eager to make a start.

Dipping the quill in an inkwell on my desk, I began to write. At the top of the first page, I wrote in my finest script, “Last of the Bloodborne. Chapter 1.

I looked at the ceiling to gather my thoughts.

After a moment, I put quill to paper and began: “A night with full moon is a friend to many. It can guide the weary traveller home at the end of a journey. It can aid the skilled hunter in the pursuit of his prey…

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