Introduction – Letters to the Editor of the Quotidian

Dear sirs,

As always, I’m delighted by how gracious you are when handling my publicity, and considering the fact I’ve never had to pay for it, I feel ungrateful complaining, but I must point out that you have once again misspelled my name. It’s not, as you printed, “an unknown thief.” It’s “Ryce Penn.” No title, I’m afraid, but you may add esquire if you feel the need. The title is now defunct, and I suppose Her Majesty and His Honor, the Regent, wouldn’t begrudge it.

If you explore the etymology of the word, you’ll discover it was often bestowed on the young noblemen who aided the knights. I have a fairly noble bearing, if no actual nobility, and Sir Andrew will testify that, two nights ago, I was kind enough to help him unstick a window that had been shut so fast people assumed no power could open it.

On second thought, Sir Andrew might not be my best reference. I doubt he’s feeling grateful.

Dear sirs,

It pains me, but I must insist you check your sources! Imagine my consternation when I woke up this morning and read about how unhappy and disturbed Lady Mariselle was that her necklace had been stolen. “I can still feel the thief’s hands about my neck!” Oh, really.

I assure you, gentlemen, you’ve been lied to. She had no such objection to my proximity at the time.

Yours, ever, Mr. Penn.

Dear sirs,

I agree with your editor about the rise of crime in this country. Disgraceful. However, I feel that he failed to point out the most frustrating aspect of the matter: our fences are now so wealthy, they’re content to retire rather than pursue their chosen vocations!

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

What am I supposed to do with all these gems?

Your fellow concerned citizen, Mr. Penn.

Dear sirs,

I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the break-in at Raverly Hall was not one of mine. I deplore violence.

Yours, ever, —

Well!