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To All and Singular: Greetings.

I bid you welcome to this journal. Ordinarily, I do not like to dwell on my past, but it seems a necessary evil. What shall I tell you? That I was born and raised in London? Certainly this bears the knowing, for it is in London I have felt the most at home. At one time, my manor in Sheen was another place I called home as was the Palace of Westminster, but...alas. That was seven years ago when I was still a knight.

No, we shall not dwell on that. Know only that I now live on the Shambles above a tinker shop and this is the place you can find me should you require my services. Perhaps you have heard of me. They call me the Tracker, as I am adept at tracking down criminals and bringing them to the king's justice, though King Richard would be loath to give me the credit. More often than not, I find it expeditious to allow the credit to go to Sheriff Simon Wynchecombe, who is more than willing to take it, at any rate.

If you seek me out and cannot find me, I might be found at the Boar's Tusk on Gutter Lane. My good friends Gilbert and Eleanor Langton own this tavern and have been kind and good to me for the years I have found myself in this parish. But I warn you. If I should be in my cups, it is best not to disturb me. Indeed, often I am in this state. Who could blame me? A knight, a lord, who now must live on the dim streets of London in one room. I share these poor lodgings with the street urchin Jack Tucker, who styles himself as my servant, though he is better suited to his vocation as cutpurse.

And so. This is the man. Born the tenth of December in the year of our Lord 1354. Thirty years old. Of medium height and build. Black hair, grey eyes. And--I've been told--possessed of a sharp wit.

The year is 1384. King Richard II is on the throne, and he only a boy of seventeen, soon to reach his majority.

London is my home and it is in London that I make my atonement. There are only a few ways for a man to atone for treason. Death is one of them. But I escaped that honor through the grace of the duke of Lancaster. No, my penance is to seek justice. If not for myself, then for others; victims of heinous crimes. God plays His hand as well, for I find myself involved with His holy relics, whether I desire it or not.

There is much work to be done, for the sin of thievery and murder can be had aplenty on the dark streets of this city. As Aristotle once said, "A very populous city can rarely, if ever, be well governed." And it is so. It is my task to assist those I can and still earn my keep.

Should you need me, you know where you can find me. I work for six pence a expenses.




solving crimes