"Every story has a starting point.
I would like to delude myself that ours was the day of the first meeting, when from nothing I was made someone. But that would be a lie.
The true origin must be sought elsewhere, in the most remote corners of Time. We must go beyond the known history, beyond the fables and legends that have been handed down to us.
It is necessary to speak of the First Foundation, an era so ancient that not even Researchers show interest in it.
Yet it is precisely there, from iron and fire, that our story begins.
At that time, the Kingdom was not unified under one banner; instead, there were many small independent realms, often at war with each other: the Capital was far from being founded and the Holy Church operated only in the south of the kingdom.
In that ancient age, ravaged by conflict, there was a glorious and peaceful population, endowed with magical powers.
They were men, women and children able to bend the elements to their will, helping fellow villagers without such ability. They were called Alchemists, and were viewed with suspicion by anyone who passed their area. Already in those days there were unpleasant rumors about them, but none of them seemed to care.
In truth, they respected nature and prayed to the gods, repudiating conflicts, helping the poor, often victims of battles. They looked after them and offered them new hope.
To thank them for their generosity, humans gave them slaves, for the most part children of people unable to pay off a debt; they were warmly welcomed into the ranks of the Alchemists as apprentices and disciples, sometimes as helpers. They took females and males under their protective wing, without distinction, yet refusing love affairs with anyone who was not an Alchemist. Pure blood had to be preserved in order to allow their race to advance in a sublime way.
Then, one day, a stranger arrived, followed by a huge army. He had declared himself the King of those lands, a conqueror of kingdoms; he had subdued the neighboring countries and now he also yearned for their territories, to subdue every people under his own emblem.
The Alchemists agreed, as long as they could remain free to continue their studies without modification.
The King did not object and, from that moment, he began a peaceful coexistence.
However, with the passing of the years, the King's paranoia grew ever greater and, fearful of the increase of Alchemists in his territories, he ordered the root problem to be eradicated.
Men were killed, young men sent to forced labor in the Borderlands; women and young women were enslaved by the nobles, their blood stained and made unclean by the hands and semen of those proud men.
Hybrid children, freaks of nature, were abandoned on the edge of the forest, left to die devoured by wild beasts.
Within a few months, nothing remained of that peaceful lineage of Alchemists, except a subtle memory destined to disappear in a short time.
The King, now the only true governor of the entire Kingdom, built the capital, welcoming his best allies, military and economic. The poor remained outside, forced into a life of misery and poverty. A year after the expulsion of the Alchemists and the construction of the Capital, the King, helped by the Holy Church now established in the Capital, gave birth to a new tradition: the Purge.
His soldiers were free to go to the villages of the Outsiders - as the poor shepherds and peasants who remained outside the city walls were called - and to bring destruction; girls aged fifteen to sixteen - now adults - were taken away, and so were young boys of the same age. The soldiers were looking for free labor and entertainment.
Since then, the Purge has become a tradition and, every year, Outsiders are forced away from their homes, without the possibility of returning.
It was during my tenth Purge that I met him, the architect of everything. Children were always spared, no one cared. Too weak to survive, and too problematic to handle. We used to watch what was happening with fear, wondering if it would be so difficult for us too. We hoped, deep down, that someone would come to save us; every now and then some minstrel came, singing of honorable heroes about to save the realms. We dreamed that one day one of them would come for us too. We were children, and that hope was the only thing that made us fear the future less.
I, of all, was the one who believed it least. I had seen my brothers and sisters disappear during the Purge, and I was convinced that no glittering hero could ever help us.
I think this is the reason why he chose me, of all.
I was the one who believed it the least but despite this - or perhaps because of my skepticism - I was able to experience change.
He chose me, of all people, so that I could tell the story from the point of view of a disillusioned person.
He chose me, among all, because only I could be sufficiently worthy to bear this burden.
He chose me, of all, because I was the weakest and, therefore, the most inclined to seek strength.
And I chose him, because I believed in his words and in that dream that we saw and hoped for together.
I chose him because he gave me the hope that was taken from me.
And I chose to carry out the mission he gave me, his desire.
To tell our story, so that, one day, the tyrant's banner can finally fall and the sunlight can return to shine on these torn lands."