Hell Hath No Fury....

[Suede]

Well, Suede had been listening to the gab through his own channels amongst the farmers. A grinning face such as his may not always get the gab he wanted, but he knew a few of the younger members of the community that were impressionable for a few coin. As such, he'd become rather aware of the situation brewing on the outskirts with a growing constant groan inside him.

He knew things would be tedious for taking up the position he did, but this was proving to be simply ridiculous.

"Boycotting the market because an idiot monk made a barmaid angry? I swear...."

Thus it was with such decision that he began to write up a small proclamation which would be mailed to the other councillors. And once such was done he'd grab a wide-brimmed hat to ward the sun and step onto the path towards the farmlands. It was a quiet day and simply folk appreciated simple gestures, he found. He'd begin making his way to every farmhouse with the papers in hand, to deliver himself and talk with the various farm owners.

He wouldn't start with the root of the evil, but instead try and break the Bates' little coup from underneath.

The message would read as follows,

"Members of Myrken Farm Community,

I appreciate your stands on the recent issues considering our 'Good' Brother Cyth and the Barmaid working at the Dagger proper. I am also aware of the recent incident concerning the riot and the rather large sword. However, I cannot abide your attempts to starve the people of Myrkenwood over the issue of a cup and other mementos due to their callous delivery and poor reception.

As such, if the crops sowed by the farmers with curtosy enough not to take such action as barring food from the hungry do not prove enough to feed the masses, the necessary -will- be confiscated from you without pay. Any attempt to avoid this will be considered the crime of "Endangerment to of life of Myrkenwood Citizens" and I shall see to having our Councillor of Defense and the Order of Straka deal with you appropriately.

You can refuse to provide food stuffs to the Dagger, if that is your wish, but refusing to feed the entire town will not be tolerated, you are as much members of Myrkenwood as they are.

Concerning the worries of your safety with the recent events at the bizarre sword, if you do not wish to bring your harvests into town yourselves, people can be provided to gather them from your farms and pay you the current rate of crops upon pick up.

I hope we have a general understanding of eachother,

Suede Roschen,
Councillor of Agriculture

[NightSteel]

When the good councillor came by to spread the news of his declaration, Ezekiel Jones assured him that he had no intention of withholding his farm's products from anyone--he would sell to whomever paid the price. He did make sure, though, to impress upon the councillor how the efforts of Mary Bates and her family to disrupt supplies were driving up the cost of business for him and others. Having to travel to further millers and find new sources of feed would in turn drive up the price that he charged for the fruits of his farm, a little, and he would not work his farm under.

If Myrken could pay, though, he could sell.

As for the place where all this had started, well, Ezekiel Jones planned to seize this opportunity himself. He would offer the rest of his services to the Broken Dagger. They would not be wanting for meat, milk or eggs.

Not five minutes after Councillor Roschen was off his land, Ezekiel Jones was hooking up the wagon. He retrieved his hat with an "I go to town, Sarah." The woman was too involved with her biddies to notice or care, and so he went alone. Just in case, he laid his pitchfork in the back before he set out. Tensions were getting *entirely* too high, and the threat of crop confiscation almost certainly wouldn't make *that* any better.

Thankfully, his heart was eased as he passed most places unmolested, offering hellos to the people with which he was familiar, and would still talk to him. He steeled himself as he approached the city proper. The Bates' had been right on at least one point: There were many odd tales of the happenings therein..

[HeySeuss]

(Belated; this should be post-dated a couple days back; I'm including several day's worth of responses, I beg pardon for the tardiness.)

"The dung-breath charlatan did WHAT?"

That was the howl of Proxenus Cyclops, the chef of the Broken Dagger, when informed of the shortages brought on by Mary Bates and the good Father. The old man's scarred hand balled up into a fist, sans one finger, all the way down to the knuckle joint; it squeezed so hard that the hand went white for want of blood.

That was his reponse to the news from the barmaid, Molly, who told him of the shrine affair...

***

Some hours later, the old campaigner prepared the tavern for the siege; or at least that's how he managed to think of the entire issue. He quickly removed certain items off the menu, notably chicken dishes and anything requiring milk or cream, and moved his livestock into the stables. With proper feeding and care, he could provide goat's milk, cheese and eggs for his patrons. The overstock of grains, he quickly started to mix with the other ingredients to make beer that he could ferment over the next couple days, to help keep the bar in business.


***

Meanwhile, he kept his ear to the ground for any news of Mary Bates or Brother Cyth. And he was rewarded with a few choice bits of information; the Kaczmarek girl gave him some interesting things to think about, even if it meant giving the food away to her for some time to come.

The problem was, how to stick it to Brother Cyth? He didn't dare make a baseless accusation, but the information added to other things would be damning.

[Tyralor]

"This is getting out of hand." Was Kilborn's declaration upon hearing about Suede's latest efforts in about the province, particularly accompanied by all the other details that were being declared on the subject. Invariably it fell to the Council to really stir the hornet's nest and muck things up. Of course, the good Lieutenant did the only thing that was viable. Applied the laws of Myrken Wood.

"Adjunct. Get Sergeant Barrows and Corporal Tallfern into my office, plaese" he wheezed. His chest was still bothering him, though the bruises had definitely faded. Settling back into his seat, he prepared a brief notation for a certain Councillor first.

Suede Roschen,
Councillor of Agriculture

You are hereby fined 120 Shillings on charges of conspiracy to commit mass robbery.

Furthermore, there is no law within Myrken Wood that states any farmer must sell any of their wares, unless they choose to do so. Nor will the Order partake in any attempted robbery of another individuals property, inclusive of tended crops, legally purchased livestock, personal property or farm produce.

I would also like to remind the Councillor that there are farmers and produce that arrives from beyond Myrken borders. It may behoove you to speak with Councillor Guillaume, our Councillor of Trade and Commerce. He may provide some insightful thoughts on this subject.

Respectfully,
Lieutenant Joshua Kilborn
Order of Straka

Kilborn doubted the Councillor would pay any need, but the matter would be defered ultimately to Treadwell, since he's responsible for taxes and fines. Which meant the fine was more or less meaningless, though at least the charge would linger for some time. About this point in time some sergeants made their way into the man's office. Kilborn engaged in a bit of small talk, until a sufficient number had made their arrival. Then he got down to the order of business.

"Sergeant Barrows, could you please organize a few of the guard to start circling around and assure the farmers that their crops, house, harvest and livestock are perfectly safe. Then deliver this message" Kilborn handed the message for Councillor Roschen. "Read it over briefly, then detail its contents to Councillor Kerrak. If there are any questions, direct them to me."

"Corporal Tallfern. I'm going to place the attempt to wrangle an apology out of the barmaid into your capable hands. Remind her that destruction of private or public property is a crime, but due to circumstances, we would accept a public apology. Arrange a date and time and let the populace know." A brief pause for the Lieutenant to catch his breath and consider the other side of the coin. Collecting an apology is only half the battle. There was a monk who would quite likely create a similar disturbance again sooner, rather than later.

"Also, find the monastery that the monk is from and suggest to them that they create a proxy shrine. Make it sound like a good idea. There are no laws forbidding them from continuing to do so. You might" There was a bit of a cringe from Kilborn at this point. The thought alone was disturbing. "be forced to inquire with the Council to clarify how longa donation to the church remains the property of the church. I can only assume until it is sold, or given away. Currently, being put on display does not constitutes a relinquishment of ownership. Perhaps Councillor Guillaume, our esteemed representative of trade and commerce, can provide some clarification. If so, get it in writing."

"That will be sufficient for now." Kilborn finished. And hopefully, it would be sufficient, period.

[Suede]

Farmers Jones would have of course been assured the crop of prices would be adjusted appropriately.

*****************************************

Suede read the message sent to him by Kilborn, smiled, and sat back for a moment. That wasn't exactly the person he was hoping to get some action from, but it would do nicely. After a time he'd wander off to make a few preparations.

Some time later Kilborn would have a pie sent to his office.

[HeySeuss]

As it stood, he related the farmgirl's story and the present circumstances to a Treadwell who became greatly disturbed. Being that the fat man was dependent upon Proxenus for the cooking, it was probably an easy sell for the old soldier. He simply fed Treadwell a lot of food and then made his point about Brother Cyth's credentials, as well as dropping a hint that he should be charged with vandalism and fraud. He offered up the Kaczmarek girl's story and made sure to mention that he could get her to testify.

Well, even if the girl balked at first, Proxenus had his canny old goat-thief's ways. Like any good soldier, he had the tools for the job in his kit, and he knew when and how to use them.

Brother Cyth and Mary Bates would be finding that out soon.

***

And so it was Proxenus the Cyclops who greeted Ezekiel Jones with a wolfish grin and a bottle of grappa at the door to the kitchen.

"Just make sure you leave some for your wife, my friend. With my compliments. Be sure to let your friends know, we know how to treat our loyal friends who stand by us in the face of vicious rumors. We'll remember our loyal friends when a time comes that those who believed such spurrious slander without hearing both sides wish to do business with us again."

He'd sent Ezekiel out with the best damned food in Myrken; enough for a feast of his own family and then some, just in case they wanted to invite some friends to the Jones farmhouse...

Let Mary Bates counter that; she had their ears, but Proxenus was about to take them from the stomach.

It was time to win stomachs, hearts and minds to the Broken Dagger's side.

[NightSteel]

Ezekiel Jones took the package that Proxenus One-Eye had given him, and set off for home. He had made good business that day, he thought, although that cook had tried very hard to draw him into things that were, well, none of his business. Sarah would appreciate that far more than he did, he knew. It was hard to place much blame on the one-eyed cook, though, after all, it was his livelihood that was being threatened the hardest.

When he arrived home again, late in the evening with the setting sun at his back, Sarah was waiting for him, hands on her hips. He calmly pulled up and began unhitching Paint.

"Where have you *been*?"

"To town. I told you when I left, Sarah."

"I didn't hear you!"

"I barely heard myself, Sarah. Our home has become a henhouse," he accused her mildly, giving her a look. "I have gone and found business at this Broken Dagger. The cook, Proxenus One-Eye, will be along sometime soon to choose from our stock."

The news was good enough to Sarah's ears that she promptly forgot to tell him about the Straka men that had come by to countermand Councillor Roschen's message. It wouldn't have mattered to Ezekiel Jones, though. Regardless of whether or not anybody's crops were taken by force, *his* would not be. Ezekiel Jones was an honest man, and he did honest work, and *today's* work had been good.

[HeySeuss]

It was carved into a tree, done by an utterly anonymous hand, and yet it summed up some opinions in the town:

"Straka would love to see us all starve so they have less things to interrupt their paperwork, red tape and rubberstamping."

A few other signs popped up accordingly. Small, but visible. Some on the inside of outhouse doors, others on fenceposts.

Even the little kids were going out of their way to jeer at the Order. Something about being careful not to walk and chew bubblegum at the same time, they could be cited for reckless endangerment of lives.

One enterprising soul even painted a sign and planted in plain view of most passerbys;

"Order of Straka: Follow this arrow to the big sword at the town limits, if you ever feel like doing a real day's work in protecting the people."

[Dhugal]

It was indeed fortunate that Lt. Kilbourn had acted so swiftly. Suede's
decree had angered more than a few farmers in the district and driven
some more over into the boycott camp.That evening a sizable group
of men met at John Bates' farm.
"Who the bloody hell does he think he is, telling me he'll seize the
crops I grew with my sweat and work? I'll be damned before I'll let
some smoothtongued town dwelling politician tell me where I have
to sell my crops!"
The speaker was the last in a long succession of men with the
same stand. John decided he best end this meeting before things got
out of control."Patience, friend. Let the Straka handle Councilor Suede.
Now I think we all better head for our beds. Sun comes up early"
"What about Brother Cyth?" someone asked.
John shrugged. " He hasn't left the monastary since the incident. I sent
my oldest up there this morning to ask after him and they say he's on some
retreat. Won't talk to anyone, even there, he's so upset."
There was a concerned chorus of voices over that. Cyth was not the
brightest of men, but he was a good hearted man and well liked in the
district by those who knew him.Before John could again bid the others
goodnight, Padrig Cole, a younger man who'd just taken over his dead
father's farm spoke up.
"What if they do come for the crops, John? What if the Straka can't
handle this councilor?"
The barn was silent as every man there looked to John
"If that time comes, we do what we must. We burn the fields."
The barn rang with cheers.
************************
While the men had met in the Bates barn, their women folk had had
their own meeting in the farmhouse. Mary greeted him at the doorway
after the last of the guests had left. She had a slight smile on her face
as she poured a mug of ale.
"Alright, out with it woman!" John said."You look like the cat that ate
the sparrow!"
She sat beside him at the kitchen table. "Men fight their way, women
fight another."
"Meaning...?"
"Well, if any of the husbands of the twenty seven women who were
here tonight sell their goods in Myrken, or set foot in THAT tavern
before that wench offers an apology, well, let's just say those men will
be spending some very lonely nights alone. If you catch my drift, John."
He did.
Mary and her friends were about to use the ultimate weapon at their disposal.

[Dhugal]

"Damn, it's hot!"
Matthew, eldest son of John and Mary Bates set the yoke
down by the row of seedlings and detaching one of the pair of
water buckets began moving down the row, watering each small
shoot carefully. It was awkward to bend under the strips of muslin
set on stakes that formed a canopy over the vegetables but he
knew better than to complain.
"Make sure you don't expose their roots. Pour carefully!"
"Yes,da."
John watched his son a few more seconds, then nodded. The
boy had a good head on his shoulders. "And mind you to take
it slow. Don't need you collapsing from overheating. I'll be back
shortly."
With that, he headed away and across the field. The hardships
of farming in this place had ingrained many farmers with a certain
practicality. Years ago John's father in law had built this farm, and
after some one of the bizarre calamities that seemed to plague
Myrken, Ephraim Parker had set about digging a series of wells
and cisterns on his property, an idea followed by his sons in law
and by many of their friends. And Wat's mill sat on a stream that
originated outside Myrkken and it had provided the water to
fill the cisterns. Things would be tight, and the crops would
suffer, but there was enough to grow food needed to survive
and to keep the livestock going.Crops might be thin this year,
but they'd gone through hard stretches before, and with this
boycott of the town, there was no danger of running out of
much soon.
And so John moved across his fields, making the rounds of wells.

[Dhugal]

There was one exception made to the boycott of Myrken Town by
John Bates and his neighbors. The Remedium Edificium and its
doctor had treated their friends and relatives during the blood fever,
and some of the offerings to Blessed Pritchard had included money
which Brother Cythwyllthfyr had left at the Remedium's doors.
Realizing the current drought would be hard on the infirmary
and the patients, John had talked it over with the others and a wagon
was loaded up with food and kegs of water from those grateful for
the doctor's efforts and set out for Myrken.
The men would deliver the supplies where they'd do the most good.

[Suede]

They would, but things might not be as simple as dear old Bates had hoped. For as the men went to deliver their offering a half score of gentlemen would be lingering along the robe between the farms and the Remedium. And why? Well because these farmers were boycotting the town, and thus since Straka wouldn't let him handle it, he'd take a new measure.

It was a small blockade really, the gentlemen weren't overly larged, but they were all armed. And while they wore not Straka uniforms, they bore a coat of arms of Myrkenwood upon the breast of their rather fine shirts. Their leader, a fair gentleman with thick brown curls that confused his apparent to be younger than it seemed, flicked the ash of his cigarette to the sand of the path and smiles.

"I'm afraid, due to your recent decision to boycott our fair town, and the ill will you have pressed towards a worker of the Broken Dagger... as well as the general closeness you're apparently intending to travel to both, we cannot let you, nor you goods, pass."

[Suede]

Elsewhere, more gentleman were out today. Though these were different. With the heat already having ill effects on the land, Suede had thought it wise to show good will to those that held the sense not to boycott the town over petty things. Thus he'd hired quite a few coolies and labormen from the town with his own money, sent them to collect water from nearby sources, and take carts out to the farms that stood on the same side of the lines as Jones.

Water for their cattle, water for their plants, these men had even been paid to help dispurse it over the farms if requested. Of course, the Bates' and those with hats in their lot would be passed entirely. If they could boycott the town, the town would do the same to them.

And Suede himself? Well he was one of the largest purchasers of fabrics, cottons, wools, refined and otherwise in the town, and his no longer buying from those that produced would certainly hurt. Perhaps old Ezikiel would know a few that wished to sell to him before he started importing.

[NightSteel]

Ezekiel Jones wasn't there to recieve the Councillor's kindness, due to his work over at the Baker farm, but a few of his farmhands were. Ezekiel Jones was too much of a businessman to let his farm go entirely untended. Unfortunately, in the terrible heat, the water wouldn't go that far between the cows and pigs, but it was welcomed just the same.

Some farmers, honest men and women that they were, would probably share some of their water with the boycotters. Ezekiel Jones himself might have elected to do that, if he had been there. But he would not be troubled by his farmhands' failure to do so.

More sources of water would have to be found, if they were to survive this without heavy losses. Even he had noticed the receding shoreline of Silver Lake. Wells were an excellent source, but if the drought were persistent enough, even they would dry up eventually, as the cracking earth absorbed more and more from the aquifers.

[Dhugal]

As it happened, it was Matthew, John Bate's eldest at the reins of
the horses on the large wagon. He gave the speaker an incredulous look.
"Heat get to you, neighbor? We're not here to sell this lot. These are
donations to the Remedium. You're welcome to come along and watch us
deliver them if you doubt us. And only a fool townsman tosses something
into the grass when it could set a field on fire.But one way or another,
you best move out of the way. "
And from the back of the wagon emerged six men, all Pritchite farmers,
true, but all also either members of the militia or retired from the Straka.
All wore swords, but four also carried their long handled scythes with them
and were quite adept in the use of them. as well as their swords.
Matthew nodded to the men blocking their way. "Your choice. And we
are expected. We sent a boy into town last eve to let the doctor know we
were coming so he could have someone there to move all this inside. Now,
you going to move so we can all get out of this hot sun?"