I started to learn new skills often - martial arts came relatively easily, as did prestidigitation. Acts of strength were more work, but paid off later on.
My childhood became an exercise in willpower, my heart set on following in the footsteps of the heroes before me. I learned they were fictional at age 9, and even then I strived to fulfil that ideal.
A paragon, if you will. A "shining beacon of hope".

Childish, I know.
But noble, and ultimately attainable to an extent. Those who know me in this world will be aware of my beliefs, and I would like to think I'm respected for them. I hope, anyway.

The starter's finished. One moment, if you will.

There we go. Don't worry - no poison, no drugs. I'd like to think myself above such acts, and there's no reason.
We're all friends here, after all.
Aren't we?

We will reach the incident, don't fret.
I want to set the scene, you see - I don't need someone else thinking I've just 'lost my marbles'.
I'll try to focus on my work outside of Albion, and hopefully we can get to the main event somewhat faster.

I suppose the first big situation began in Paris, when I came into contact with the fake Marquis...

The End

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