Upon returning from my voyages, I received word that an old aunt had perished from consumption. I mourned this loss, but there was nothing to be done about it. The executor visited me shortly afterwords, delivering a stack of old books. Aunty Neddy always had odd interests. The oldest book I’d never seen before. when I opened it, the archaic runes on the page stared back at me, signifying nothing. And then they shifted, and I could read of the ancient people who made this book. It spoke of cities, so long lost to history that this was perhaps the only record of them.

It spoke of the wizards. These wizards found safe valleys, fertile mountains, and majestic rivers for the people to settle in. They led small bands to become thriving villages. They guided young peasants to become Wise Kings, Witty Playwrights, and Cunning Architechs. They dethroned idolent kings, provoked starving peasants into revolution, and brokered alliances. They placed monsters to guard to terrorize towns, and sent heroes on quests. And they told stories about their deeds. With the short lives of the common folk, five generations is enough to rewrite history.

The word of the book didn’t just change that first time.

Replace the term Narrator with “Historian”, and “Sailor” with “Wizard”.
We are keeping the rule “No Lame Scams”