While carefully cataloging my chest of looted and liberated goods, I was struck by the realization that I may have a mandrake problem. Through diligent harvesting and frisking of crushed mages, my mandrake supply far exceeds my usage. Some would say that’s not possible, but I admit that I simply have more than I need.

Under normal circumstances, I would slip the stockpile into some nondescript sacks, hitch up the wagon, and under the cover of darkness make my way to Owl’s Head to sell a few backpacks worth of goods to the reagents merchant for a handsome profit.

However, the sting of that salt transportation incident is still fresh in my mind and I would prefer not to have any constabulary entanglements and be held in the Clink at Lord Enmar’s pleasure.

So, instead of venturing into the dragon’s nest and putting myself to the hazard, I will bring those in need of mandrake to me. I have spoken with my man Habberdash, who has agreed to set up shop at our crafting pavilion. Since this our first batch for sale on the open market, we are willing to sell a small sample at less than market value.

In order to recognize a buyer who knows a high quality product from some clearly disguised enforcer of jurisprudence, Habberdash will only respond to a predetermined call sign. When greeted with the phrase, “The drunken condor wears no pants,” he will reply with “Hmm, I don’t understand.” This will weave a web of confusion to would be eavesdroppers.

If he’s comfortable with the transaction he will give a wink, a nudge, and then open the special chest containing our mandrake stash.

We’ve also got an excess of nightshade plants, so if you’re in the market for some quality reagens, we might be able to do some business.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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