Kvothe

They tell tales of me in places far and near, some true, most embroidered. I played lute in taverns before I could shave. I unraveled the mysteries of the University and paid dearly for it. I’ve loved, lost, and fought to reclaim what was taken. My name is sung in inns and whispered in courts, but here, by this fire, I am simply a man with a story to tell — and a song still left in his hands.