On a beautiful spring morning, young Sam was making his way through the bustle of activity around the bank in Britain. As he neared the channel, a stark figure stepped from a boat and signalled to him. As Sam approached the man introduced himself as Mr. Tomas-Bryce. "Sam, right? Sam the Scribe?" "Yes Sir, an honor to meet you. Is this about the adventures I write.... your views on elven-kind?" Tomas-Bryce waves a hand dismissively. "Those entertainments are no concern to me Sam. My views are well known. Follow me please, I have need of your pen." Indicating that Sam take a seat in a nearby guard tower, Tomas-Bryce begins to dictate a letter. Sam removes a Quill pen from a small frostwood case and carefully unrolls a sheet of fine vellum. The pen moves quickly as he takes down these words... To the most excellent Ladies and Lords of the realm, I am thrilled to announce the beginning of a new chapter for collectors of all things unusual. Two weeks ago, I took a survey to get a feeling for my dream of formalizing our community. The response I got was one of unanimous approval. I write this letter then, with the intention to translate this momentum into an action plan. I hereby announce the beginning of this endeaver. All those who have been a respected member of our existing but informal community will be shortly invited as a full member. As a full member, you will be responsible for electing the first Ministry of Rares at the rares festival in May, amongst other things. Another matter of concern is regarding working out the details of holding the election. I have invited Lord Manticore to aid me with drafting an election protocol which will require simple majority approval before elections. I hope to have this protocal put forth for voting by April 28th. I urge you to communicate to us any ideas or queries you might have regarding this. Respectfully in your service, Tomas-Bryce of Atlantic ******************************************************* Tomas-Bryce reaches to take the letter. "Wait Sir! The ink must dry before you can handle the letter else it will smudge." Tomas-Bryce grumbles. "Fine Sam, I see you have a passion for your craft, but I have little time this morning." Sam blows on the parchment drying the ink quickly. "There Sir." Tossing a few silver coins on the desk Tomas-Bryce then turns to leave, pausing for a moment in the doorway. "I will have additional need of your services, Sam. Leave your address with my messenger service so that I may contact you as needed." Sam carefully places his quill pen in it's hand carved frostwood case. "This could be interesting..." Sam thinks as he steps back into the bustle of the Brit Bank marketplace.