the Jester
Legend
“Good morning, fine halflingth!”
The Amazing Longleap Sisters look up from their work. They are busily deconstructing the frame that they used for their amazing performance of the other night. They recognize Cedric from the other day, when he nearly accused them of being spies from Tydon, the rival earldom not far to the southeast. Goer stands faithfully just behind him.
“Good morning, lord,” one of the girls replies with a smile.
“Your performanthe wath amathing! My father conveyth hith rethpectth, and in hith name I would like to take you all out for breakfatht and perhapth a fine beverage or two.”
The halflings exchange a glance. “Well, certainly, my lord,” one of them says. “We are always willing to have breakfast! However, I must tell you, we are in a bit of a hurry to make it to the next festival. We cannot dally too much.”
“Of courthe not,” Cedric nods understanding.
Soon the Longleap sisters, Cedric and Goer are at the Fat Mallard, eating bowls of potatoes and enjoying a morning mug of ale. Cedric tries to elicit tales of the sisters’ journeys, asking especially about any dangers that they have encountered.
”Certainly, my lord, there are bandits in many places in the wild,” one of the sisters offers.
“Banditth!” exclaims Cedric. “Why, I would like nothing better than to prove my valor by thmiting down thome banditth!”
Indeed, as they talk, Cedric keeps turning over one thing in his mind, again and again- his knighthood. Though his initial training is complete, he has not yet performed a task of sufficient valor to earn his dubbing. Nor does he yet have a horse of his own. He knows that he must be patient; his father has long made that clear. In time, when he has proven his valor on the field of battle...
***
Meanwhile, the third day of the festival is picking up. The rays of the sun already promise a hot day. Cara Reed is playing her lute at one end of the festival space, while on the other, the Old-Timer is fiddling up a storm. The folk are eating confections, drinking morning wine and ale, having some sliced goat sausage fried up by the Cooker clan. The merchants have already begun trading.
“There he is, my lord,” Narmox the bandit-hunter murmurs, gesturing at Bangus Redcoat. Tumenore nods.
“Take him.”
Suddenly there is quite a commotion. A shout of surprise, then a cry of pain as swords rasp free of their scabbards, then a woman’s scream....
Jorgen is on the scene is seconds. Bangus Redcoat, one of the Cooker bully-boys, is surrounded by a handful of the armed bandit-hunters. The local has frozen, his eyes darting from one of the bandit-hunters hemming him in to another.
“What’s going on here?” Jorgen demands.
“We’re apprehending a bandit,” one of Tumenore’s men says.
Jorgen glances at Bangus Redcoat. “Him? But he lives in the town.”
“They often do,” the bandit-hunter replies. “You’d be amazed how often we find these scum hiding themselves among the peasantry.” One of the bandit-hunters moves to seize Bangus.
“Now hold on there just a minute!” Jorgen exclaims. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Question him, first of all- and then justice.”
“I’m not a bandit!” Bangus declares fiercely, fear evident in his voice. He gulps. “I work for the Cookers.”
“What evidence do you have?” asks Jorgen.
“One of us saw him.”
“What!” Bangus cries.
“Where?”
“Near the ruins of Castle Laagos,” declares a new voice. Jorgen turns as Tumenore himself walks up. Jorgen swallows. Tumenore is a formidable looking half-orc; his arms and legs look like tree trunks. He is tall, too, and his scowling face bears enough scars to draw a picture of him as a formidable warrior.
“You saw him yourself?” asks Jorgen.
“No- one of my men did. Who are you?”
Jorgen introduces himself. “I keep watch over the town.”
“I’m not a bandit!” Bangus cries again.
“Well, watchman, we’re going to take him away and interrogate him now. We’re operating with your lord’s permission, so if you’ll excuse us-“
“Maybe I should go with you,” Jorgen offers. He can feel the sweat trickling down his face, smearing on his palms. He is very nervous about this situation. This has the potential to get very bad. He glances at Tumenore’s men- there are almost two dozen of them, all armed with shortswords. They could tear this town apart, Jorgen realizes unhappily.
***
Cedric and Goer exit the Fat Mallard and turn towards the festival grounds. “That’th odd,” Cedric remarks, “there theems to be a commotion.”
As they approach, they find quite a scene, indeed: Bangus Redcoat is being taken by Tumenore and his men. “What’th going on here?” demands Cedric, and Tumenore bows to him.
”Ah, my lord, we have apprehended a bandit who was hiding amongst your folk.”
“I’m not a bandit!” cries Bangus. “Please, there must be some mistake!”
“I saw him with my own eyes,” declares another of Tumenore’s men (named Narmox). “He was with a group holed up in the ruins of Castle Laagos.”
“It wasn’t me, I swear! There must be some mistake!”
“When was this?” calls Kyle Goldenbow, who has come over from his booth to observe the scene. “Perhaps he has an alibi.”
“This was ten days ago, in the early evening. A few of us were patrolling, looking for the nest of bandits, and we saw a couple of them in the ruins. He was one of them!”
“Ten days ago he was working on our ranch,” Lane Cooker states firmly. “He was helping slaughter and dress goats until well after dark.”
“Don’t try to protect him just because he’s one of your neighbors! He’s a bandit!”
“Either way, we’ll find the truth of the matter,” Tumenore says.
“My father dithpentheth juthtithe in these partth,” Cedric warns them. “You may protheed with your invethtigathion, but when you are done you will turn him over to Thir Martin.”
“When we are done, we will see him hanged,” Tumenore says flatly.
Cedric demands that they first go explain themselves to Sir Martin. Tumenore agrees testily, and the troupe rides out to the Whitewater estate. Tumenore goes into conference with Sir Martin for nearly an hour, and when he emerges his men mount up and prepare to leave with Bangus Redcoat.
“I am going to go with them to... keep things proper, my lord,” Jorgen says uneasily.
“I swear, I was on the ranch!” Bangus groans. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
Tumenore and his men mount up and escort Bangus out of the walls of the estate. “Where are you taking him?” Jorgen asks.
”We’ll go to Heartbreak Hill,” says Tumenore. Jorgen nods. Heartbreak Hill, just outside of town, has a cliff called Lover’s Leap. From there, a heartbroken jilted lover once hurled himself to his death.
“I hope this wasn’t a bad idea,” Jorgen moans aloud to himself.
Sir Martin is livid, but, as he explains to Cedric, “What can we do? There are far too many of them, and they are well-armed. They genuinely believe that Bangus is a bandit, but I’m not so sure.” He leans towards his son. “I don’t trust him. Keep an eye on things as best you can, son.” His eyes seem to measure Cedric. “I know you have been frustrated for a chance to prove your valor. Your day is coming, son- perhaps sooner than either of us think.”
“Of courthe, father.”
“And if he is a bandit, he must hang, obviously.”
“Of courthe, father,” Cedric replies again.
***
After several hours of rough treatment atop Heartbreak Hill, Bangus has still not confessed to anything. Jorgen watches uneasily, but what can he do? He is one man in the midst of many. And though they have beaten him a little, they have not actually broken anything or cut anything off.
But finally, at about the fourth hour past noon, Tumenore growls, “I tire of your lies, brigand!” He draws his axe out and steps towards Bangus.
“Hey, now-” Jorgen says, but the half-orc ignores him.
“I give you a choice!” barks Tumenore. “You can take the leap,” he offers, gesturing at the dizzying fall, “or I’ll cut off one of your hands, or you can confess!”
Bangus’ face goes white.
“That’s no choice at all!” Jorgen protests.
“I don’t think the boss wants your input,” one of Tumenore’s men rumbles at Jorgen.
***
When they come back into town, it is late afternoon. Tumenore’s band heads directly to the festival grounds where they announce that Bangus Redcoat has confessed to being a bandit and that he will be hanged after the conclusion of the festival, as an example to others who might think of turning to banditry rather than honest work.
An impromptu group of the more concerned folk of the town, consisting of Cedric, Goer, Dahlia (though she’s not really of the town, as she’s a hermit from outside of town), Jorgen, Kyle Goldenbow, Cara Reed, Cur Sed Seed and Otis Optimus. Jorgen complains about the method used to elicit the confession, but he admits that the bandit-hunters seem sincere in their belief that he’s a bandit.
“Perhaps there’s a look-alike,” suggests Kyle.
“It’s possible,” Cara admits.
“Or maybe he really is a bandit. How reliable is his alibi?” asks Otis.
Kyle says, “I asked around a little, and there are multiple people who were working with him that evening. Just like Lane Cooker said.”
“Then perhapth we thould investhtigate Castle Laagoth,” Cedric suggests. “If there ith a look-alike, we may be able to prove Banguth Redcoat’th innothenthe.”
“The festival ends tomorrow night,” Otis comments calmly. “If he is being hanged as an example, they will probably do it the next morning, as there will be fewer people late in the evening.”
“And most of the people from out of town don’t usually leave until the day after it’s all over,” remarks Kyle.
“Then we mutht move quickly,” declares Cedric. “To the ruinth!”
Next Time: The Ruins of Castle Laagos!
The Amazing Longleap Sisters look up from their work. They are busily deconstructing the frame that they used for their amazing performance of the other night. They recognize Cedric from the other day, when he nearly accused them of being spies from Tydon, the rival earldom not far to the southeast. Goer stands faithfully just behind him.
“Good morning, lord,” one of the girls replies with a smile.
“Your performanthe wath amathing! My father conveyth hith rethpectth, and in hith name I would like to take you all out for breakfatht and perhapth a fine beverage or two.”
The halflings exchange a glance. “Well, certainly, my lord,” one of them says. “We are always willing to have breakfast! However, I must tell you, we are in a bit of a hurry to make it to the next festival. We cannot dally too much.”
“Of courthe not,” Cedric nods understanding.
Soon the Longleap sisters, Cedric and Goer are at the Fat Mallard, eating bowls of potatoes and enjoying a morning mug of ale. Cedric tries to elicit tales of the sisters’ journeys, asking especially about any dangers that they have encountered.
”Certainly, my lord, there are bandits in many places in the wild,” one of the sisters offers.
“Banditth!” exclaims Cedric. “Why, I would like nothing better than to prove my valor by thmiting down thome banditth!”
Indeed, as they talk, Cedric keeps turning over one thing in his mind, again and again- his knighthood. Though his initial training is complete, he has not yet performed a task of sufficient valor to earn his dubbing. Nor does he yet have a horse of his own. He knows that he must be patient; his father has long made that clear. In time, when he has proven his valor on the field of battle...
***
Meanwhile, the third day of the festival is picking up. The rays of the sun already promise a hot day. Cara Reed is playing her lute at one end of the festival space, while on the other, the Old-Timer is fiddling up a storm. The folk are eating confections, drinking morning wine and ale, having some sliced goat sausage fried up by the Cooker clan. The merchants have already begun trading.
“There he is, my lord,” Narmox the bandit-hunter murmurs, gesturing at Bangus Redcoat. Tumenore nods.
“Take him.”
Suddenly there is quite a commotion. A shout of surprise, then a cry of pain as swords rasp free of their scabbards, then a woman’s scream....
Jorgen is on the scene is seconds. Bangus Redcoat, one of the Cooker bully-boys, is surrounded by a handful of the armed bandit-hunters. The local has frozen, his eyes darting from one of the bandit-hunters hemming him in to another.
“What’s going on here?” Jorgen demands.
“We’re apprehending a bandit,” one of Tumenore’s men says.
Jorgen glances at Bangus Redcoat. “Him? But he lives in the town.”
“They often do,” the bandit-hunter replies. “You’d be amazed how often we find these scum hiding themselves among the peasantry.” One of the bandit-hunters moves to seize Bangus.
“Now hold on there just a minute!” Jorgen exclaims. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Question him, first of all- and then justice.”
“I’m not a bandit!” Bangus declares fiercely, fear evident in his voice. He gulps. “I work for the Cookers.”
“What evidence do you have?” asks Jorgen.
“One of us saw him.”
“What!” Bangus cries.
“Where?”
“Near the ruins of Castle Laagos,” declares a new voice. Jorgen turns as Tumenore himself walks up. Jorgen swallows. Tumenore is a formidable looking half-orc; his arms and legs look like tree trunks. He is tall, too, and his scowling face bears enough scars to draw a picture of him as a formidable warrior.
“You saw him yourself?” asks Jorgen.
“No- one of my men did. Who are you?”
Jorgen introduces himself. “I keep watch over the town.”
“I’m not a bandit!” Bangus cries again.
“Well, watchman, we’re going to take him away and interrogate him now. We’re operating with your lord’s permission, so if you’ll excuse us-“
“Maybe I should go with you,” Jorgen offers. He can feel the sweat trickling down his face, smearing on his palms. He is very nervous about this situation. This has the potential to get very bad. He glances at Tumenore’s men- there are almost two dozen of them, all armed with shortswords. They could tear this town apart, Jorgen realizes unhappily.
***
Cedric and Goer exit the Fat Mallard and turn towards the festival grounds. “That’th odd,” Cedric remarks, “there theems to be a commotion.”
As they approach, they find quite a scene, indeed: Bangus Redcoat is being taken by Tumenore and his men. “What’th going on here?” demands Cedric, and Tumenore bows to him.
”Ah, my lord, we have apprehended a bandit who was hiding amongst your folk.”
“I’m not a bandit!” cries Bangus. “Please, there must be some mistake!”
“I saw him with my own eyes,” declares another of Tumenore’s men (named Narmox). “He was with a group holed up in the ruins of Castle Laagos.”
“It wasn’t me, I swear! There must be some mistake!”
“When was this?” calls Kyle Goldenbow, who has come over from his booth to observe the scene. “Perhaps he has an alibi.”
“This was ten days ago, in the early evening. A few of us were patrolling, looking for the nest of bandits, and we saw a couple of them in the ruins. He was one of them!”
“Ten days ago he was working on our ranch,” Lane Cooker states firmly. “He was helping slaughter and dress goats until well after dark.”
“Don’t try to protect him just because he’s one of your neighbors! He’s a bandit!”
“Either way, we’ll find the truth of the matter,” Tumenore says.
“My father dithpentheth juthtithe in these partth,” Cedric warns them. “You may protheed with your invethtigathion, but when you are done you will turn him over to Thir Martin.”
“When we are done, we will see him hanged,” Tumenore says flatly.
Cedric demands that they first go explain themselves to Sir Martin. Tumenore agrees testily, and the troupe rides out to the Whitewater estate. Tumenore goes into conference with Sir Martin for nearly an hour, and when he emerges his men mount up and prepare to leave with Bangus Redcoat.
“I am going to go with them to... keep things proper, my lord,” Jorgen says uneasily.
“I swear, I was on the ranch!” Bangus groans. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
Tumenore and his men mount up and escort Bangus out of the walls of the estate. “Where are you taking him?” Jorgen asks.
”We’ll go to Heartbreak Hill,” says Tumenore. Jorgen nods. Heartbreak Hill, just outside of town, has a cliff called Lover’s Leap. From there, a heartbroken jilted lover once hurled himself to his death.
“I hope this wasn’t a bad idea,” Jorgen moans aloud to himself.
Sir Martin is livid, but, as he explains to Cedric, “What can we do? There are far too many of them, and they are well-armed. They genuinely believe that Bangus is a bandit, but I’m not so sure.” He leans towards his son. “I don’t trust him. Keep an eye on things as best you can, son.” His eyes seem to measure Cedric. “I know you have been frustrated for a chance to prove your valor. Your day is coming, son- perhaps sooner than either of us think.”
“Of courthe, father.”
“And if he is a bandit, he must hang, obviously.”
“Of courthe, father,” Cedric replies again.
***
After several hours of rough treatment atop Heartbreak Hill, Bangus has still not confessed to anything. Jorgen watches uneasily, but what can he do? He is one man in the midst of many. And though they have beaten him a little, they have not actually broken anything or cut anything off.
But finally, at about the fourth hour past noon, Tumenore growls, “I tire of your lies, brigand!” He draws his axe out and steps towards Bangus.
“Hey, now-” Jorgen says, but the half-orc ignores him.
“I give you a choice!” barks Tumenore. “You can take the leap,” he offers, gesturing at the dizzying fall, “or I’ll cut off one of your hands, or you can confess!”
Bangus’ face goes white.
“That’s no choice at all!” Jorgen protests.
“I don’t think the boss wants your input,” one of Tumenore’s men rumbles at Jorgen.
***
When they come back into town, it is late afternoon. Tumenore’s band heads directly to the festival grounds where they announce that Bangus Redcoat has confessed to being a bandit and that he will be hanged after the conclusion of the festival, as an example to others who might think of turning to banditry rather than honest work.
An impromptu group of the more concerned folk of the town, consisting of Cedric, Goer, Dahlia (though she’s not really of the town, as she’s a hermit from outside of town), Jorgen, Kyle Goldenbow, Cara Reed, Cur Sed Seed and Otis Optimus. Jorgen complains about the method used to elicit the confession, but he admits that the bandit-hunters seem sincere in their belief that he’s a bandit.
“Perhaps there’s a look-alike,” suggests Kyle.
“It’s possible,” Cara admits.
“Or maybe he really is a bandit. How reliable is his alibi?” asks Otis.
Kyle says, “I asked around a little, and there are multiple people who were working with him that evening. Just like Lane Cooker said.”
“Then perhapth we thould investhtigate Castle Laagoth,” Cedric suggests. “If there ith a look-alike, we may be able to prove Banguth Redcoat’th innothenthe.”
“The festival ends tomorrow night,” Otis comments calmly. “If he is being hanged as an example, they will probably do it the next morning, as there will be fewer people late in the evening.”
“And most of the people from out of town don’t usually leave until the day after it’s all over,” remarks Kyle.
“Then we mutht move quickly,” declares Cedric. “To the ruinth!”
Next Time: The Ruins of Castle Laagos!