At Morrowlea, all students are equals and are therefore forbidden to reveal details of their background; nonetheless, one can often determine certain broad outlines of a friend's life (for instance, Hal's uncertainty at dressing himself made his noble origins obvious, though I naturally refrained from pursuing the details). Sometimes circumstances conspire to reveal slightly more personal information, as when I reminisced about various trails in the vicinity of Ragnor Bella and Red Myrta put that geography together with my uncommon name and drew me aside to ask, point blank, if I were Mad Jack Greenwing's son.

"I ask because my mother has been trying to learn who blackened his name and exact vengeance for years," she said while I stood speechless in surprise; "If you don't mind the wild lay, we'd be more than happy to have you lend your name and your sword to our efforts."

Thus it was that I returned home some years later as a bandit rather than a young gentleman of declining fortune.

Life turns on such small, unforeseen events.