I have finally met up with the Brotherhood caravan in Swiftrun. Since Uncle Civard informed them of me, I was expected. Unfortunately they do not have the wide array of culinary treats that I am accustomed to. I will have to make do with the beef bourguignon that I have left, until I inevitably run out. Oh how I dread that day. I met up with the Brotherhood around noon, and shared mid-meal with them, which is how I know that they eat like peasants. In order to travel with them, they require that I put myself to work as a scout for them. I agreed, since that means riding ahead of them and not having to hear and smell the “merchandise” all day. There was another traveller who joined us part way through the afternoon. He introduced himself as Thomas Steadingford. He seems like a nice enough fellow, though quite a bit low-brow. I wasn’t paying much attention, but I think he said he came from a farming background, or maybe fishing, or something else. Either way, I doubt we will have much in common. I just hope he doesn’t feel the need to bore me with stories of his mundane existence. I better get a good night’s rest tonight, since tomorrow we will be scouting ahead for the Brotherhood caravan. The things one must put up with for fame and fortune, it’s so degrading.