Same people.
Different idiots.
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Showing entries about workshop. Show everything
Arrowyy demanded to know who he was, which is a large question to throw at a fellow before supper. I gave him the only honest answer available, and Summoneyy immediately promoted him to my son.
Arrowyy took to the arrangement with alarming speed, ordering me about the workshop and presenting a picture of a man beneath a cart as though oil stains were a family crest. Blaedy, whose timing is generally that of a tax collector, pointed out that I had denied the boy before admitting the adoption.
Fair enough. The papers were barely dry last time I mentioned them, and already the Town Hall register has become a weapon. Summoneyy checked whether she had been entered as well. Sensible precaution. Westfall bureaucracy does not need encouragement.
