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Three blades, Brian.
They are three.

~ B.B. ~

Why was my jail time raised to a month?

~ B. B.~

The following note is written in a slightly shabby handwriting
Ah yes, I see.
I apologize for my mis content about this, mister Bobert Beothach.
I lift the ban order and allow myself to be shaven to skin.

~Lady Samantha Meryadeles~
---Magistrate of Trollsbane---

Alright, Sramantha. When you decide to open your eyes, where only the dark moon of the fox shines, I will allow my holy scissors to run through your hair. But else, anyone finds that it would be unfair to jail me away from the unheaten soil simply for voting for Brer? It is quite colorish of the las...

And I seriously announce that I declare that I inform that I let you know that I place my vote on my Brother's wife's daughter's brother, Brer Beothach to govern the town as a governeur since governeurs govern towns where towns are governed by governors.

~ B. B. ~

Me messages be not nonsense for jailing time of your dried potatoes, Kebantha. Me was announcing that I was declaring that I was informing that I was letting you know that I was placing my vote on my Brother's wife's daughter's brother, Brer Beothach to govern the town as a governeur since governeur...

I hereby officially adjudge that I announce declaring my vote placed, aimed, or based at my Brother's wife's daughter's brother, Brer Beothach. With the hopes of desiring to promise a full trust in him, as the obscure fills the bag. Will he be on the right side? I doubt him on the left side. I shall...

And so the apple became rotten,
The wolf howled,
Hair flew in the skies,
Sacrificing to the wooden plates unknown
They rest rhymless.

It came, on the day where the prophecy was announced.

Oh, greetings everyone. I tree arrived.

~ Bobert Beothach ~