Rising from your troubled slumber you are, as you have always been, Emmanuel Dire.

You are a little under yea high, you’re about as bright as you need to be, and your mild obsession with knives has historically been considered healthy for someone in your line of work.

Your recent unpleasant awakening has left you a bit disoriented, causing you to ponder such questions as “Where am I?, “What time is it?”, and “Where is my favourite waistcoat?”

The answers to those questions in order are:

You are in your room on the top floor of Dire and Son’s Used Weaponry.

It’s a week before you lose everything.