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He tries to elbow me and break out, but it’s no use.
This isn’t my first rodeo.
Unfortunately, that approach isn’texactlyironclad.
I’m now wanted in Troskowitz, but that doesn’t mean too much to me.
I’m already far away, and I’ve got what I wanted.
Besides, how much can one lute be worth?
The only catch, as you may already have guessed, is that they didn’t have a lute.
That, according to 15th century RPG custom, makes it free real estate.
Unfortunately, the townspeople of Troskowitz have a better memory.
Bohemia has several tiers of sentencing, depending on how badly you’ve flouted its laws.
When I trot back through Troskowitz a few hours later, none of this is on my mind.
But as I leave the apothecary, a guard waits at the door to confront me.
A few things have gone missing and they know I did it, which is fair.
After running away from my problems, I stuck to my theory that time was the best medicine.
For several more days, I tried to keep my interactions with the town to a minimum.
Eventually, though, my life of crime became too awkward to work around.
If I couldn’t pay up, they were going to brand me.
I tried to sweet-talk my way out, to no avail.
I owned up to the fact that I didn’t have that sort of money, to no sympathy.
I fled, knocking out my would-be captor with a nasty uppercut and making a quick exit on Pebbles.
As it stands, I’m staying away from Troskowitz for real this time.
For now, I’ll continue to scrape enough coin together to buy forgiveness.
