A cobbler's son... And perhaps something more

You are Jordan Farcourt, son of the second-most-famous shoesmith in the whole town of Velberg. Not the most prestigious position, to be sure, but he's always kept a roof over your head and food on the table for you and your mother.

Velberg is a nice enough place to live; it's large for a farming village, and just a few day's ride from the Capital. You've never been one for wanderlust, content to enjoy the comfort and security of home.

It was with some ****, then, that you embarked on a two-week trip to the capital. But your father needed somebody to meet with the new leather supplier, and you weren't about to refuse him. Your trip has been uneventful so far, and you're relieved to be on your way back to town.

There's only one thing that's been bothering you on your journey: there have been a series of strange coincidences and unnatural happenings. Nothing bone-chilling, or even inconveniencing, but still... When you trip on a cobblestone at the exact moment that a bale of hay catches fire, or a coachman gives you a discount because you silently wished for one, you can't help but take notice.

The most pleasant of the coincidences occurred just last night; as you prepared to board the final coach to your home, you were dismayed to see it lacking in any buxom women with whom to pass the long journey. Just then, a half-naked woman rushed from a nearby house, determined to board the carriage with you.

After filling her with your seed a few times, you got to talking, and try as you might you were unable to divine the reason for her journey. By all accounts, it seems that she hopped on the coach for no reason but that you willed it.

Hours later, as you step off the coach on the outskirts of Velberg, you try to put all of that out of your head. The negotiations went well, and you're sure your father will be happy with your work. Strolling towards your house, you stretch and yawn, happy for the warmth of the morning sun. Your sleep was fitful in the confines of the carriage; you'll be glad for a real bed tonight.