Those days in the swamp are behind me now. Years, really.
Call me reformed.
It was a diversion, after several long boring lifetimes, to hang around in the swamps and answer the call when The Baron was needed.
I might have been the real Baron, I don’t really know any more. That was a long time ago, after all, and a long life (of sorts) doesn’t necessarily provide an equally long memory. There are others who may know more than I.
Real or not, it hardly matters. If not I, then the real Baron wasn’t paying enough attention. So I accepted his offerings, answered the occasional prayer as I imagine he would. And most of all, I demonstrated that if you live long enough, eventually even an alligator won’t eat you.
The Raven brought me news. The Owl has been sighted too.
It came to be that my days in the swamp were numbered. And I was ready.
I’ve slipped on the clothes of a new identity, and wandered far away from where I’ve been sighted often.
And I’ve taken to writing a few things down. After all, my memory is clearly not infinite. Even if I cannot remember any longer who I was first. It hardly matters who was on first. He was well before the Baron, and I’m well shut of him now.
Even if an alligator can’t kill me, it isn’t very convenient to run around short a foot or two while the alligator realizes his mistake.
So here I am today, making my way from the deep swamps into the modern city.
I don’t remember a city being here, either. There must have been a fur trading post, I think I remember that much. When was that? When is it now?
Just how did so many years go by while I was in the swamp?
The Raven tells me (not that I fully trust him, of course, but he was right about needing to find the city) that I need to find my way aboard one of those metal birds, and make my way to the west. Going faster than a bird can fly.
I guess it is time I joined our inevitable fray.