Once upon a time, there was a knight. Not a man of shining armour, no, this was a knight who had fallen from his high horse, and now wandered on the ground, like a peasant. In fact, this man was a peasant, thinking he was a knight. Anyway, this peasant - or was he a knight, in disguise as a peasant pretending to be a knight? - found a fair maiden. She, like him, was a woman who had fallen, but in each other they may have found happiness - or was it cynicism? - in any case, they were together, but would they be.

Dancing is a pastime for nobility, they were lords and ladies - but work is a pastime for nobody but Thomas.

Ooh, I'm a bastard. Or realistic. Mebbe that was pragmatism, there we are.

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