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... e next you’re some mythical author god or whatever. Can you imagine that happening to you?
No? Nobody?
Yeah, me neither.
But fate, well... fate’s a friend nobody can predict. It plays us all like puppets whenever it gets bored.
Oh? Who am I, you ask? Name’s Quill, a fourteen-year-old lad. Yeah, I know... Odd name for a farmer. But my papa gave it to me, so I wear it with pride. Like a proper noble peasant, haha...
Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m new to this whole ...
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