"Oho, Jerry me boyo," (Patreon)

I tried, on the chance that he could hear me but wasn't acknowledging it.  "Sure an' a town this size must have a cobbler.   You ought to apprentice yerself to him and become a shoemaker in more than name only."

"SHOES," Jerry muttered, with a faraway look in his eyes.  "Beautiful elf-made shoes.  Beautiful elf snow-vixens."

"Tish, lad," I scoffed.  "Sure an' why bother an elf when you could have pride in yer own workmanship, ye could?"

"I will not be stopped," Jerry declared avidly.  He hefted his rucksack and yelled "FOR SHOES!" as he swung the sack at the bookshop window.

The window shattered.  Jerry quickly grabbed all of the books, along with several sizeable pieces of glass, and shoved them all into his sack.

He dashed madly away, giggling and singing "SHOES, SHOES, SHOES!"

Fuma's Whiskers!  I bit my nails as I fretted over what to do next.  Should I pursue Jerry?  I pretty much knew where he was going if I didn't intervene .. but how would I prevent him from returning to Tulgeyside and Albric Tor?  Then again, since I knew where Jerry was going, it might be worthwhile to tarry and investigate these industries here at Percysthorpe, to see exactly how involved the Duchess was in lowfolk affairs.  For that matter, perhaps I should find Percy le Gobelet and cut off the supply of these slanderous books at the source ..

I had only pondered these matters for a second or two when an enormous, richly-dressed boar came dashing up.

"HEY!" he snorted.  "Why is the store closed?  Where's Mr. Brown?  HEY!  Why is my window all smashed?  Where are the books?  HEY!  Why's that guy running away down the street?

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