He told me he was a treasure hunter, and for a long time, I believed him. I suppose that somewhere, deep inside, I still do believe. The stories he had to tell were amazing - I can't even begin to recount them. Stories of frightful Ice Titans, golems of stone, living sand and creatures with hair that was actually live snakes. The stories were so fantastic, how could they be anything but true? I drank his stories in deeply. I always wanted to hear more.

I was hunting giant insects on the day that I met him. They don't put up much of a fight, but back then, I could only barely handle a weapon. They had been enough to nearly overwhelm me, and it wasn't long before I found my supplies running low. When I had begun my adventure, I met a few kind souls that were willing to help me get my start. They'd given me nearly four hundred bottles of potion, a tangy red drink that tasted more like strawberries than the red-colored potions I make, myself.

But despite having been given so many, I was nearly out. My stomach ached from the sweetness of the flavor, but they were the only thing I had that could alleviate my injuries, aside from a few medicinal herbs I had picked up along the way. Of course, the potions were far more efficient - I only had to gulp one down in a few swallows, rather than taking my time to try to eat something. But, there I go again.

I hadn't seen anyone else in all the hours I had been fighting, so when I suddenly found myself standing right next to a stranger, I was a bit surprised. Still, I tried to be friendly, and we conversed some, before deciding it would be better for the two of us to team up. He was a perfectly friendly sort, warm and open and eager to share the tales of his adventures. He was also a much stronger fighter than I was. There was all sorts of advice he was able to give me, showing me how to use my weapons more effectively, teaching me how to move around my enemy as I fought. Each time I began to falter, he was right there to deliver the killing blow, and keep me from being on the losing side of that dividing line. At the end of the day, I considered myself having found a trustworthy friend, though who could have known if we'd meet again?

But we did meet again. I ran into him all the time, and as we trained and fought together, side by side, I was slowly becoming more and more proficient with the weaponry my father had left behind. He seemed to know all the best places to train, just the right places to take me when I was beginning to conquer one area. We traveled together, from the capital to the desert, and from the desert to the forests on the coast. We fought screaming cactus monsters and squeaking mushrooms, working our way up to the vicious wolves that roam the forest's expanse. We became a good team, and through the conversations we shared, we became business partners.

Treasure hunter that he was, he seemed to procure the strangest items on his adventures. He'd bring them to me, and I'd sell them. Everything from exotic weaponry to fine china, he'd bring, and having been raised by a merchant, I'd always get a much better deal selling it than he could. In the end, we always split the profit 50/50. For a long time, everything was good.

I guess things didn't start getting strange until after I started pursuing my ultimate goal.