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[Lady LaBelle]

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The morning came such as the bird song, uplifting and
embracing. LaBelle sat to her writing desk within the
great Hall of Paladins. She carefully furled the now finished
parchments and left them on her desk. She gingerly skirted
the stacks of bindings and entered into her bedchamber.
She chose city worthy garments from the chest of drawers
and proceeded to a womans task of making herself presentable.

Still without a steed to carry her form; LaBelle set off for
the mother city. She arrived midday, scrolls tucked
beneath a fold in her skirt. Her thoughts wandered to
the obscenities of the previous evening's Regency Assembly.
She had departed abruptly with the arrival and masquerade
of the feeble-minded sheriff Spawn.


The city was bustling with the usual commerce and bedlam.
LaBelle lowered her gaze and sifted through the tradesmen
on route to the Britain Public Library where she would
find a familiar scribe to attend her bidding.


These scrolls slowly circulate, from city upon city until many have seen them; in the hands of laymen, on shelves of libraries, and in the desks of a few nobles can they be found.