“No, they never did.” The stallion’s eyes narrowed as he read over the forgery. It was apparently good enough to convince him, because his eyes went only to the date. He took a big red stamp, then plastered over the whole thing. “I’m sorry, miss…” He squinted down at the name. “Storming Skies, but we have new orders.” He gestured, and at once a guard on either side of the cart stiffened and began to approach. “If I find any discrepancy, my orders are to hold the goods for inspection, along with the ponies transporting them. Scuttlebutt is that the princess was smuggled out by a trader like you.”