The #Broken_Dagger Forum

They have spread through the town; three of them, equals in the capacity of lungs and the volume of their voices, and bright in an exaggerated version of Myrken Wood livery -- for it's important that they are seen, as well as heard.

"Hear ye! Hear YE!" It's a cliche, but sometimes people need those. Particularly at times like this.

"Let it be known that the Council shall meet! On Friday, this thirteenth day of June!" Brief sentences; that's the way to do it, unless you want your bellow to become a squeaking whimper, and who would? "In ten days there shall be voted on! A new Governor elect! This election shall be open to all! To commoner and noble alike!" Which is a damned lousy idea in the opinion of at least one or two of these fellows, but they're not about to mention that; the Councilor who'd hired them would have their innards for his new violin...

"This grand occasion shall be marked by feasting! For it heralds in great change: a new era for Myrken Wood!" And about damned time, given the way things have been going lately. But they are moving on already to further speak their good news; they are regular evangelists, these men, but of the purely secular sort. There is a single parting cry, a last urging: "Spread the news! From Sagpa River to Derry Row, all must hear -- thus proclaims the Judiciary!" Proclaims only half the story, as it happens, but when hasn't that been the way?

Gad had heard the criers belting out their message, at least in snatches, through the gaol walls. What he hadn't heard from them, he'd picked up from the morning conversation by the guards after eating the pitiful excuse for breakfast he'd been given.

The situation was. . . unsettling.

All of the criers--and apparently the rest of the Council and Myrken Wood--all seemed to agree that Gad was to be replaced no matter what. In less than two weeks, someone else would officially be Governor and Judiciar of Myrken Wood. Whether Gad would even be allowed to run for keeping the position is, it seems, hardly a question; as long as he is in this cell, that question's immediate and final answer seems to be "no."

What did this "no" mean for Gad Phuri? Other than a general sense of disgrace and further hardening of an already grumpy old man, such an answer would have an economic impact on him. Losing the position would mean losing well over half of what he's currently being paid--from roughly a couple thousand shillings a week paycheck for present services to roughly a seven or eight hundred shilling per week stipend for past services. That is assuming that his replacement, whoever that ends up being, doesn't cancel such assistance. Less money, of course, would mean fewer luxuries and less food.

Oh dear. He hadn't thought of that. Gad groans, reaching once again for the bottle of brandy that Maggie left for him last night. Another few mouthfuls are definitely in order.

A young, lanky swineherd leaned against the wall of the farrier’s shoeing stable. His left eye was black and puffy and his upper lip split on the same side. He was not truly hurt...but he allowed himself to appear as if he were hurt by Kanashia and Mandlor during the uprising. He listened to the call of the heralds and allowed himself to smile.

As he turned to walk away, he couldn’t help but chuckle.