Dystopia and Utopia
In the years of copper and bronze, there were far less problems. Farmers worked their fields. Smiths created their pieces. Everyone existed solely for the purpose of existing. Now in the Age of Sulfur and Steam, we face far more problems. Well I mean, ever since the Kingdom of the Sky decided to darken our lands. Since those first days of darkness, we have learned to adapt. The old gods fell and raised new ones. The land was a resource, not a treasure. Children were soldiers, not cherished beings. This is our distinction from those fools in their high palaces of Utopia. They believe that by eliminating natural desires they will create a perfect society. Misled idiots! Do what you will for it will be the only thing that will be responsible for one's happiness, here in Dystopia.
When I advanced to my proper age: I, like every other candidate, went through my trial, my Kacvet, and I chose the Path of Aqmahet and proceeded to have my hands removed. Unbeknownst to me, I would leave my parents to rot as low class disease-ridden street walkers while I lived a life of luxury. I didn't mind. After all, the pestilent, worthless beings treated me as a source of income for years. It was only right to leave them to perish as a result of their selfishness. Anyway, I began as a messenger for a wealthy vapor dealer. Running across Korvere delivering packages, I would come across interesting people: the knock kneed whore, the cheap epicene, and the scrofolous old hag. But even such an interesting form of employment as that can really get boring after a measure of time.
I decided to ask for a new line of work from my caretaker. He agreed and sent me off just as my parents had for me to work in the whorehouses. Here I felt at home. Here is where my life began.
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