Hello, my dear old friend,
Traveling through the Middle Ages, trying to procure money for my family and find a teacher has brought me much hardship in my life. Though my destiny has tried to tell me that my life should be spent working on a farm, I have never given up my dream. A multitude of misfortunes has plagued both me and my family, yet I have sustained my hopes to still become a swordsman. My perilous journey has just begun my friend. I hope this description will explain not only my recent agonies in life, but the chance to reach my paradise.
I have traveled throughout the towns, imploring masters to take on a lowly apprentice. The profession I choose will dictate where my future both begins and ends. My high hope is to become a swordsman. My country would revere and love me for both my craft and personality. My enemies would be in their depths of fear; my power would reach its zenith. Unfortunately this would not be the case.
When traveling to find a swordsmen master, my most unlikely foe would befall upon me. It was a foe that could not be trembled by the sword or by the blood of men. This foe could cause the blood of both men and women alike to boil. My words speak of the plague, a deadly disease that made more holes in the earth then creators in the moon.
No master would look upon a servant let alone teach them the ways of the sword without being in proper health. If it wasn’t for the kindness of a widow and the strength she provided me, my Crusade of life would’ve ended before single day turned to night. It took months of recovery and I had to repeatedly forebear myself from leaving bed, knowing my enemy would return but with stronger forces.
Eventually my strength returned as did my ambition to become a swordsman. As days turned into weeks, I continued to battle my personal demons. The hope seemed to be lost, my paradise seemed to fade. In the cold dead of winter only the love of the sword kept me warm and my dreams kept me alive.
One day a messenger came to the town I resided in to rest. He held a parchment from King Arthur’s royal court stating that a competition would be held. It was a swordsman tournament. The winner would receive glory as a knight and solider in his highnesses royal court. The losers would not survive the battle.
This is what my life has turned to my old friend. From our days as youngsters, you knew as well as I that my destiny would lead me to a life altering decision. Do not weep if I win, nor if I lose. This is my choice and I hope my choice leads me to my destiny.
God wills it,
Jopo Keth
(1345-1379)
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