For too long had the eldest son of Gloucester been gone. What his father did not realise was that his bastard son, Edmund, had gravely deceived him and set the suspicion on his elder brother. The plot to kill Gloucester had nothing to do with poor, gentle Edgar; yet he was sent away, dishonoured.

You walk through the woods, praying to whatever God may be out there that Edgar is among the dark, spindly trees. You had been his closest friend, his confidant, and now he had left. Without so much as a goodbye. When all hope seemed lost, and you sat weeping on a stone in a clearing, a voice suddenly bursts through the shrubbery. A man, hooded, comes traipsing out.

"Oho, oho! A lost soul? Why do you weep? Ha-ha! Ha-ha! I am Poor Tom, I have no need to weep! If you like, I can show you how!"

This man's voice seems familiar, though slightly muffled by the hood. There's a trace of nobility in his madman words, it seems.