(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"I believe so. Can you research it?"
"Yes; I shall look into it. I should have the information in less than a day from
now."
~~~~~
Don't think that just because someone else was doing my research for me
that this was an excuse to be lazy. Trust me, it was much more comforting
knowing that my fate was in my own hands. With someone else taking the
reins all I could do was sit in the carriage twitching my leg, blind to the path
and hoping I wasn't about to get driven into a ditch.
With that on my mind the world was flowing past me as I wandered down
the street. It was only by chance that an old woman caught my attention, if
only because something about her pricked a hint of recognition in the back
of my mind.
Not a memory... more an echo of what a memory should've been.
The woman examined me closely with her sharp, gray eyes... first my face,
then my arms and various tattoos. "Greetings, scarred one. Come to speak
with Elobrande, have ye? Come to have yer fortune told, mayhap, for a
paltry five coins?"
Well, I was up to my eyes in coppers anyway. I fished a small palmful out of
my pouch. "Yes... tell me my fortune..."
Elobrande placed my coins in her belt pouch and took my hands. She quietly
studied my palms, frowning deeply and with eyebrows furrowed. At long
last, she spoke. "Some rare folk are what's called fateless, ye see. They
wander through their lives doing as they see fit, creating their own destinies.
Ye have no fortune to tell, scarred one... none at all. I've nothing to tell ye...
and so here is yer coin." She returned my five coppers.
I nodded, still suspicious. There was something about her... "Farewell, then."
"Hold ye one moment, scarred one..." Elobrande reached out, touching my
arm. "My mother gave me something once, long ago... a scroll, sealed with
wax. A hooded man had entrusted it to her, and said that a man such as ye
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