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Who is He Really?


Raconteur
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His Life had been one of non-description filled with beatings and half starved as most of his Class were. He had had a Father but any attachment had long gone and when the opportunity came for him to escape from where he was he took it willingly and never looked back.

 

Now eight years on he has returned to London. A self-educated Man in all aspects and one that was unrecognizable from his beginnings. In those years he had used Time wisely soaking up information and experiences like a sponge until the rolé that he had made his was as easy and natural as drawing breath.

 

None would ever guess much less think that he was anything else. And that his name was not his own.

 

It was sheer Luck that a Christmas Court was in London for he had expected Richmond Hampton or Windsor and so his entry would be all the easier. He had spent the week wandering - not the streets - but the corridors of Whitehall taking in the faces unfamiliar and yet acknowledging the Salutations that were offered. He was aloof as intended and did not seem to have any interest in conversations. Yet he learned much.

 

Wine was the culprit as it always was. From that one thing tongues were set lose and thought and secrets uttered. How foolhardy Courtiers were! He soon had knowledge of many things both useful and not and hearing that the thirty-first was to be set aside for a Ball set his plans into motion.

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