Your death is inevitable. Accept the fact that even if you run, you can't hide from it forever. Blame fate or god if you want, but none of that can help you. Evil hits you just because you stand in someone’s way. From a rival who craves your throne, to an ordinary boar during a hunting session.

If you’re a weakling, one day you’ll be trampled like a bug under someone’s foot. And when you’re strong, many will join forces to pull you down into the dirt, just as they did to Lumen the Archmage many years ago. That’s why pampered kids like you never make it without help.

Survival is a calculated risk, and people in my line of work don’t make it often into their 40s, but I did it anyway. Perhaps that’s enough reason why I can help you. So you’d better hire my mercenary ass today, or I’ll get to visit your grave by the time I’m 50.

—A letter from Edge the Demon Mercenary to the young Lord of Gutlinger