There are of course a few decent people I've met in my life, and I tried to take advantage of them when I could. I don't come off particularly well in this narrative, but neither will some of those who no doubt will live on and pretend they never knew me and yet are ruling the Iliac Bay. The hopefully infamous Lord Woodborne, the key behind the Daggerfall plot.ДЄs I said, I am a liar, but if I am indeed dead when you read this, this is the unvarnished truth. Oh well.ДЄh, and I mentioned Woodborne Hall. I feel more guilt over my lack of guilt than my actual guilt. It bothers me a little that I don't have feelings of remorse.

Though I am a liar by nature, I won't lie about this. What I discovered from this was that killing someone I loved, and I loved Goriph as much as someone like me can love, did not affect me at all. Then I called for our knights, pretending I had just discovered him. I came back to visit him several times over the next six hours while he lay paralyzed and bleeding, his face turning paler and paler, the blood on his lips going from scarlet to black. He fell, broke his back, but didn't die right away. Honestly, I know it's monstrous, but has any third-born not thought this? It was what was on my mind when I asked Goriph for another book on the twentieth shelf of the library and pulled the ladder from beneath him when he reached it. If you had no older brothers, you become the eldest. Of course, that's the idea behind the practice, but the loophole was right there. 'That's why it's a good idea to get along well with your brothers.' 'Not unless the eldest agrees to some light inheritance,' my brother, whose name by the way was Goriph, replied casually. 'So the third eldest gets nothing?' I asked, being the third eldest. Now, if you're a peasant unfamiliar with the concept, it's simply that wealthy landed gentry leave it all to their eldest. One evening at Woodborne Hall, we were in the library, discussing the family dynasty such as it is вЂ“ more about that later вЂ“ when the subject of primogeniture came up.

I was ten years of age, and my brother (my first victim, not my second) was sixteen. I was actually responsible for the death of my eldest brother as well, but that came years later, and didn't affect me as much. Like I said, I became aware of death at quite an early age, quite inauspiciously, by causing and witnessing the death of my older brother.

I'm dead, and if you've heard of me, you've probably heard terrible things. To me, it's what comes at the end of a meal, hopefully a long twelve courses with lots of exotic delights, but perhaps suddenly, unexpectedly, in the middle of the second cheese course. So, I've never had a particular fear of death. If you've ever spent an evening reading 'A Brief History of the Empire' or 'The 36 Lessons of Vivec,' you know exactly what I'm talking about. Some very intelligent friends of mine found this idea repellent and sought immortality, but from my later conversations with them as vampires or liches, there are things worse than death. At quite a young age, I became aware of the concept of mortality, which to me is intriguing, that we all come to dust. If you're reading this, I am probably dead.

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