Well,

my clever and cunning disguise worked perfectly and I managed to evade the Kringle this time.  Now the threat is past and I'm in the clear.  Heh heh, you've got to get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on ol' Adler!  Never underestimate the resourcefulness of an elf, I say!

Now, let's get back to the story, shall we?

I think when we left off, I had just masterfully concluded my negotiations with the unscrupulous Ash in a truly masterful manner.  Through sheer cunning and charisma I was able to run both verbal and mental circles around the old scoundrel's feeble attempts to lead me into something Unseelie and unelfly.  I avoided all tomfoolery with contracts and the swearing of oaths.  I stood steadfastly by my insistence that an elf's word is his bond, and stated aloud that I would grant Ash the amnesty that he desired if I was satisfied with his service.  Ash responded by verbally stating that he would work in my service without treachery as long as he was sure he would be given amnesty.  This airtight wording would surely prevent any double-crossing or back stabbing from ever occurring again in the future.

I was ready to kick back with a celebratory bowl of stew after a job well done, but there were still other matters requiring my sagacious attention.  The fair and lovely damsel Vernier approached me with a look of concern.

"Sir, now that your important conference is done," she whispered, "you really ought to take a look at Rebecca's notes.  She has been studiously taking notes of all your words and actions."

"Wonderful," I replied.  "If only all my allies and followers were so dedicated.  Why the worried face, my dear?  What could possibly be wrong with recording my admittedly noteworthy deeds?"

"Just look and see," Vernier insisted.  "She has been writing and drawing things from the entirely wrong frame of mind."

"I'm sure this is just a simple misunderstanding," I sighed.  "When is a scholarly outlook ever a bad thing?"

"Pardon me," I said as I walked over and interrupted Rebecca's and Burnside's debate about shares in some imaginary clothing boutique.  "Rebecca, may I see your notebook?"

"Of course, My Lord," the rabbit girl gushed excitedly as she handed her notebook to me.  "I would be honored if you would tell me what you think of it."

I started flipping through the book and realized immediately that Vernier's fears were completely justified.

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