WARNING

DANTE

I was born in a small village called Prago in the 1600s. We had neither electricity nor modern-day equipments that humans have now invented but we were happy. Though faint, my memory still holds a little piece of the village; I vividly remember my parents, their laughter and the morals they had tried to instill in me while growing up as an only child. Sadly, they had contacted the bubonic plague and died shortly after my eight birthday, leaving me in the care of my uncle- a grouchy, old fart who only knew how to drink ale, run the taverns and physically abuse me.

When I had hit the ripe age of ten years old, he got ‘fed up’ of me ‘only taking space’ in his rat-infested shack and decided that the best way to get rid of me was to sell me off to some merchants from Arabia. The timing couldn’t have been any more convenient-he was looking for silver to buy ale, they were looking for a servant to do their dirty work.

This is why you