No respect for a truly dire warning.

I remember the sound of dripping water. It was reassuring in its endless repition. (When I was older I discovered it had to do with the womb and my mothers heartbeat.) If I concentrate really hard, I get a vague recollection of lavender. It seemed that I spent an eternity listening to that drip. Then hands grasping me, jerking me up. Followed by a swift flight through tunnels and quickly shifting lights. But in the end it wasn't swift enough, the shifting lights and rocking motion of travel spun a sturdy net that quickly drew me down into the empty oblivion of sleep.

Upon awakening I was informed that I was now a student of The Academy. If I had a name before I came here it is gone now, lost in the ether of memories long forgotten. My name as given to me upon entering the academy is Benjai Farseer. I am captain of regiment number 843. But that comes later; let me speak of my days in the academy.