Thanks for the feedback I got so far, I appreciate it! I can't guarantee the best stories around, but I'll try to at least keep the updates coming.

Disclaimer: Terry Pratchett owns the Discworld and so forth; don't really need to tell you that though, do I?

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Fourteen years and six months ago...

"Dietrich Baumsucher?"

"Yes?"

"I represent the Council of Peers and Law of the town of Faltz, sir. I believe you have been very fortunate." The man was clad in heavy leather armor, a breastplate and conspicuosly displaying a gold and tin brooch at his throat as his symbol of office. He straightened up, cleared his throat and began reading from a scroll. "It has been decided that in the event of an investigation being done, the charges of murder in the second degree against you will be dropped-"

"Wait, against me?"

"And censures will be issued to various of the ruling families. The council has agreed to pay due sums for the restoration of your health. As well,the agreed market value of five hundred in gold and gems for the Baumsucher family logging enterprise will be paid with all despatch" Dietrich decided to shut up for a moment to hear the rest. His face still hurt from the healing, anyway, and it would be pointless to talk until this fellow was finished.(1)

"-and agreeable new lodgings and apprenticeship will be set up and occupied by said subject in an unspecified location far from the borders of the country." The man lowered the paper and looked thoughtfully again into his face, which was now in a state of outraged confused relief. A neat trick, really.

"So, no mention of possession of extreme contraband?" said Dietrich, quietly.(2)

"Oh, an execution has already been carried out on that count. You will be interested to know that your charred remains are on display before the Town Sherrif's Hall." He turned and pulled a rucksack from the horse behind him.Presenting it in an officious manner, he said in a louder voice, "Now then, sir. Here are your papers being returned to you after inspection. They are all in order, as well as your payment for services to this town. I hope you have a pleasant journey home." In a lower voice, he muttered, "The lord Vice Sherriff wishes to tell you that his debt to your father is now considered fulfilled. Best you not return, or he will be forced to truly carry out that warrant."

Dietrich nodded mutely, and allowed the man to help him aboard his horse. They rode in silence to the nearest section of the main road, 20 miles away.

"I know you will do your old country proud, though you may simply wish to forget us entirely," said the guard, as Dietrich hefted his rucksack and prepared to trek to the nearest inn. "For the time being, that may be the best choice. Be strong, young fellow!" With that, he turned and rode off back into the forest. As he walked, Dietrich eyed the trees on either side of the road mistrustfully. He couldn't be certain that the wolves had believed the council, and that they were taking a huge chance in letting him get out of there. He was fairly sure their wits would cover; nevertheless, he was quite relieved when he reached the safety of the inn several hours before sunset. The husband and wife who ran the inn knew his family, but had also heard of his execution. In any case, neither of them recognised him. The Igor's ministrations had been exceptional in keeping him alive, but they hadn't extended very far into the cosmetic side of things.

At this point, it was proving quite fortunate. He hoped that luck would hold.

That evening, after bidding his hosts good night and retiring to his room, Dietrich broke the seal on the packet of papers and looked them over. They were in a mix of the languages of the plains, mainly Morporkian. He could make out what they said, after a fashion, due to so long having to decipher orders in his father's... he gritted his teeth... business.

The top sheet appeared to be a letter of introduction to a jeweller in a city called Quirm, offering his services as an apprentice. He turned to the next page, and his eyes widened. A jeweler? He was being apprenticed to a Jewellery! He leaped to his feet and started to the door, before he stopped, took a deep breath, and gave himself a solid smack in the face. He was helping nothing by this, and it indeed would be a good cover. He forced himself to sit back down and keep reading.

The jeweler he was being apprenticed to, it turned out, was the son of one of the local dwarf kings who had emigrated to the plains to find his fortune. Must be another favor being called in then, Dietrich mused, and flipped to the next paper in the packet. He read with growing fascination the papers pertaining to his new identity and various traveller's accounts of the vast cities of the plains, and by the time the carriage had arrived two weeks later, had committed them as much as he could to memory.

Dietrich boarded the carriage, and spent the next three weeks in relatively uneventful travel(3), politely listening to other traveller's tales, practicing his languages, and changing carriages, or helping move them, as needed.When the last carriage lurched to a halt and the driver shouted his destination, Dietrich Baumsucher nodded to the others,snatched up his bag and disembarked.

As the dust of the retreating vehicle faded away, Derek Alder Feind stood blinking in the bright afternoon sun. He marvelled for a moment at the wide, ornate gates of the bustling city of Quirm. How imposing they looked, but somehow so thin! He felt a momentary pang of uncertainty...

Then, shouldering his bag, he started walking steadily toward them, and his new life.

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(1) Not to mention less potentially painful.
(2) Ownership of silver anything, let alone fine tableware, tends to be frowned upon in any country where the ruling class happens to be allergic to it.

(3) For a given value of 'uneventful', anyway.