It's been a few weeks since my fingertips have even thought of returning to their craft. 'Joe' held true to his word, and the commission from the Silver Hare was enough to keep my landlords goons from harassing my door knocker. Alvis, his merchant from the south, has another commission. A Honey Dipper. Fool as it sounds, folk from Combe have ever taken the art of Beekeeping with only the utmost dedication.
Jeremiah Hadlesworth, a Combe-local with a belly swollen with pride and mead. He onced lived on the house on the outskirts of Combe, but has since moved into Bree. 'Joe' believes the recent influx of brigands and other such sour-minded folk are the cause for this. Either way, his precious bee's remain at his former home. Watchmen are unapproving of Beekeeping within the Hedge Wall, by all accounts. 'Joe' has an address for me. Seventeen East-look way. A second storey apartment, it'll be fun finding my way inside..
'Joe' brought other news to our meet. Apparently I'm a wanted man, and not only by him. Word has reached him of a contract on my head, dead or alive, for three hundred silvers. Set by a local of Arrowhaven according to his sources. I expect it has something to do with the so-called Order of the Seven, after all a group of righteous folk might have a mind to take issue with an independent entrepreneur like myself. That, or Mrs Potts has further influence than I expected.
Three hundred silvers. Who knows, if this arse of a landlord keeps on my back I may have to collect it myself.
