The Preamble
Deep in the Cellars of the Tower, a pair of middle-aged Men, soberly dressed in Aprons over their fine Broadcloth, open a pair of great brass-bound Ledgers.
Gravely, they approach a large series of Dials set into the Walls of a Machine, moving the Hands and checking Marks. Finally one nods to an Underling, who pulls a great Lever.
With a Roar, the Mechanism starts into movement, and a Rain of gleaming Discs pours forth into a Basket. Golden Sovereigns, the Coin of the Realm.
Each one precise.
Each one identical.
And each one imbued with an Aura, unmistakable to Duke or Potboy alike, that says :
I am His Majesty’s doing.
I am Genuine.
(My thanks to Lord Foppingham’s Amanuensis for this very fine Preamble…)