I had to admit that the scribe did good work. Oh it wouldn't have passed back in Andred, but only because people there knew too many of the folk involved. Fortunately I had spent several years in the rather more disreputable courts and knew enough gossip to fill the patent in with just enough juicy detail to make it feel authentic. The ink work and the seals themselves were tremendous and I even purchased the stamp from Ludwic in case I needed it in the future.

“Are you sure they will leave me alone?” he asked, for the upteenth time. I nodded agreeably, though I wasn't nearly as sure as I pretended.
“They won’t bother trying anything with you until they have dealt with us,” I replied confidently, “and they will find that harder than they think.” I was fairly confident Beren wouldn’t let local rif raf cut my throat and it served my purposes to add a little lustre to my name having just arrived in town. Such things tended to smooth the way with aristocrats, it paid to be a little eccentric and a little more daring than a commoner would.


“Where to now?” Beren asked as we exited and I tucked my patent of nobility into my pouch. I was already composing several extremely spurious rumors to spread about Lady D’Albon. You need rather less than you think to do so, good rumors take off on their own. You don’t need to specify which servant she was seen cavorting with, or whose baby she was carrying to explain those few extra pounds. Just give people a few pointers and they filled in the details with whatever was most believable themselves. If you don't believe me you should try it sometime. It is very fun. 


“I suppose we should go and see our Brasielan friends,” I admitted. It was expected and I really didn’t have any solid plans until sundown and Enrik von Nieman’s ball. I was certainly ready for a dose of civilization but my adventuress persona was rather demanding in some ways.