You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Jakob hesitated, but there was something in the old hag's eyes—something that told him she knew more about him than he wanted to admit. He lowered himself onto the cushion, feeling the dampness of the ground seeping through the thin fabric. There was no use hiding from her; she had already seen through whatever facade he might have put up.
“My name is Jakob Shelby,” he began, his voice steady, though it took effort. “I was born into a life of chains, my family enslaved and exploited by those who knew nothing of mercy. One by one, they died. My mother, my siblings—all of them, gone. The only ones left were me and my father, Arthur.”
He paused, the memories flashing in front of his eyes, as vivid as the day they happened. His father—strong, unyielding—had managed to buy their freedom. But even now, Jakob didn’t know how. It was a question that had haunted him ever since. But freedom had come at a price. They were hunted like animals, and in the end, it was his father who paid with his life.
“And now, it’s just me,” Jakob continued, meeting the old hag’s gaze. “I came here to start again, to find a way to make something of myself. To get rich, to take back everything that was stolen from me and more. By any means necessary.”
The hag nodded, as if she had heard it all before. “You’re in the right place, Jakob Shelby,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. “But remember this—nothing in this town comes without a price.”
Her words hung in the air as the candles flickered and shadows danced across the walls. A chill ran through Jakob's bones, but he was no stranger to cold. He had survived worse.
Whatever lay ahead, he was ready.
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