A courier arrived recently at the Ducal estates (known locally as "That creepy-ass huge McMansion on the hill, you know, the one with the constant parade of freaks coming and going, oh and the weird, mute doorman with no ears, not to mention the super fat, sexually virile rich dude that lives there" by the local teens). I knew this to be a special delivery by the outward look of the courier alone: riding a creaky, ancient pennyfarthing bicycle, he was dressed in an elaborate peacock cloak and hunched his shoulders like a dog trying to pass a peach seed. His pock-marked face belied a sort of hideous retardation that at once frightened me and aroused my curiosity. Surely only the most powerful of men could control a freak such as this...
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