A vile rumour

There is, it appears, a particularly vicious rumour making the rounds. It is said that, far from being comfortably ensconced in the Dancing Goat, I have been paying a debt to society in the Breetown Jail. It is further said - and this is the bit that is most deeply disturbing - that this visit to the Breetown Jail was on account of a short, consensual, and mutually satisfactory relationship I had with the Mayor's daughter.

These allegations are false. Entirely false. There is not a shred of truth in any of this. The entire story is nothing but a tissue of lies and slander. There is just no way that she is the Mayor's daughter, and if she is then she shouldn't be, and, anyway, she didn't tell me.

In any case, should I be blamed for the fact that some ladies (Mayor's daughters or not) find me irresistibly attractive? Of course not, I hear you say. Should I be forced to hire bodyguards to keep off the adoring crowds? Of course not, I hear you say again.

These demands would be unreasonable.

So why should the Mayor take such umbrage if his daughter (a lady of mature aspect and one who definitely knows her own mind) chooses to admire me from a closer distance than is perhaps compatible with strict decorum?

It is just not right that I should have to suffer such vile slurs for something that is clearly not my fault.

It is, of course, expected that Beorbrand, Ashmara, Inzilzagar and others would organise bail.  That's what band members do for each other. It's just the normal thing. My Fool knows this, and so do I. And now Beorbrand et al have learned. I hope they're not expecting repayment.

I just wish I could have seen Ashmara's face when she handed over the money.