Hello Catskills, The same kind person who provided me the tale of Owain Surrey has also passed along a story about Lucretia Genovese. The steward paused a moment at the door of the old cabin, doubting that such a homely place could actually be the residence of his lord’s daughter. Cracks in the crude wood walls of the structure emanated light into the evening outside, giving him hope that perhaps at least some peasant residing here might be able to direct him on to the address he sought. The steward took a sharp breath, then knocked boldly upon the door. “What is it?” The response was immediate, a female voice tinged with annoyance or distraction, he couldn’t tell. The unlocked door creaked open slightly, and the steward peered inside. A woman was seated with her back to him, writing furiously at a desk cluttered with papers and tiny bottles. The walls of the cabin were covered with dried plants, sketches of animals, and shelves of jars stuffed with all manners of plants and animals. “Yes?” She asked dismissively “Go on, I am quite busy”. “Lady Lucretia?” he began, waiting for some response from the woman, who only continued to write. “M’lady, I.. have an urgent message from your father”. He called through the cracked door. The woman leapt to her feet, toppling a number of the vials on the desk. One vial of green liquid hit the floor and rolled to the steward’s feet. He glanced down, reading its label: Sample of Swamp Mist. For a moment, he pondered why anyone would want such a thing. She interrupted his thoughts, her voice raised in anger: “My father..” she began, then turned to face the steward, “I suppose he’s sent you here to bring me back to his castle?” He nodded dumbly, the intense gaze of the noblewoman piercing his resolve. She was both beautiful and stern, her long copper hair tied back tightly in a ponytail, staring at him with steel gray eyes. He swallowed, then stepped inside the cabin. “Lady Lucretia, he sent you this message...” he offered a folded letter to her, sealed with red wax. She snatched it from his hand and tore it open. Daughter, Please put this foolish nature study aside and return at once to my court. Your place is here amongst your own. Leave the picking of dirt and leaves to the peasantry – they are more suited for it. If your behavior were made public you would bring me much embarrassment. I have sent five million gold to your account – use it to purchase and acceptable wardrobe and carriage for your return. Lucretia crumpled the letter in one hand, turning to the steward. “Give my father thanks for his donation to my research, and tell him that if he wished to save himself embarrassment, he may tell others that I am dead!” The steward stammered, gesturing meekly in protest “M’lady Lucretia, that is quite..” “That is quite all!” she finished for him, hastily pushing a pouch of coins into his hands. “For you sir, for your troubles.” She pushed him out the door, adding “Much work to do; do take care sir.” With that the door was slammed behind him.