Today is a day of celebration for Baldur's Gate, or some would claim. Well, not celebration, but artists are performing in every single square of this beautiful town, and today artists seem to crowd the squares. Four artists were travelling from the East Gate up to Manorborn, with a show to entice people and nobility, and regale them with their grand tale, whether there were people or not around.
- a nobleman of revered birth and questionable wit, Scion of the Divine Right of "being right about everything".
- a competent knight who keeps making the horrible mistake of being helpful.
- a prisoner accused of terrible crimes.
- a man of few words and a lot of sighing.
The one representing the nobleman enters wearing an absurdly oversized hat with a tiny crown perched on top, wobbling, pacing as if everyone should be grateful of his weightness, the ground itself included, and this is the play.
Only then, the actors would have departed for the next tour.
"Citizens, gather round, for you're about to witness the most brilliant legal mind of our age... ME! Lord Setaside! And I'll render judgement upon a wicked, wicked criminal!!"
He pointed dramatically to the crowd if any, tossing his head backward, and almost lost his hat and crown in the process.
"You are welcome!!!"
The man of few words approaches.
"My Lord, as the Shrewd, I must inform you that the tribunal hasn't started yet and we haven't even seen the prisoner!"
"That is irrelevant, Shrewd! I have already decided!"
He produces a huge and very long scroll, and shows the content to the crowd. It is empty.
"Guilty! Bury her somewhere! Meeting adjourned!"
"We haven't asked her anything!"
"Must we?! I am a Scion of the Divine Right! The Goddess of Nobility speaks through me! She said, and I quote..."
He cleared his throat and speaks in a squeaky falsetto.
"Dorian you are very handsome and correct about everything, if I say so myself!!"
Soon after, the knight enters with the prisoner at hand, all tied up.
"My lord, if we might begin the questioning..."
"Fine, so be it! But make it quick, Sir Godfrey, for I have a banquet to attend!"
The knight observes the prisoner.
"Tell us what happened..."
"I am the Wretch, good people, and I was forced into terrible things ser. Mercy, I had no choice!"
"AH-HAAAA! YOU SEE?! GUILTY! She admits it, the Wretch! BURY HER!"
"She... said she was forced!"
"Forced, willing, what's the difference?! The point is she did bad things and I... the Greatest Lord Setaside... have bravely determined this from my chair! Without moving!!!!"
"My Lord, if we bury her, she will die, so she'll explode and the spell imbued within her will burst and destroy half the city."
There is a long pause at the revelation, then Setaside replies.
"THEN WE WILL USE A VERY LONG SHOVEL AND BURY HER OUTSIDE OF TOWN!!!"
"That is... not how it works, my Lord."
"Are you questioning my piety, Sir Godfrey?! I am a Scion! The Goddess HERSELF would agree with me! She told me so, just this morning, over breakfast!!!"
The Shrewd commented with a sigh.
"She also told him he looked good in that hat, apparently."
Lord Setaside falls asleep on the makeshift throne. While the actor fakes to be asleep with very unlordy noises, Sir Godfrey takes the Wretch hands in his.
"Know that you are not alone, your pain is mine to share. We shall find together a way to have you atone, and undo the spell cast upon you. No ill shall fall upon you or anyone."
"You are too kind, good ser..."
The Shrewd brings his hands to his heart, touched. Then with a loud snort, Lord Setaside woke up.
"What? What happened? Did I miss something?"
"Sir Godfrey was..."
"YES, EXACTLY, THAT WAS MY IDEA! I advocated for this since the very start! I, Lord Setaside, have ALWAYS believed in mercy! It is part of the Divine Right which I embody personally, in my whole body literally!"
"You said to bury her, my Lord."
"I said to bury her with kindness obviously, you clearly misheard! It's not my fault your ears are common!"
He turns toward the audience, if any.
"Let it be known throughout the land that LORD SETASIDE, ME MYSELF, bravely and single-handedly saved this poor woman from a terrible fate, with my wisdom and my extraordinary hat!"
The Shrewd looked toward the potential audience.
"He was asleep."
"I was meditating on justice, the justice that is mine to invent! You may now applaud."
All the actors sigh defeated, while Lord Setaside bows dramatically and loses his hat, so he scrambles to pick it up with great indignity.
"And that, good people, is how justice is done. By those who do it... and those who take credit for it."
"Next time, let's not invite him."
"Wait, there's a next time?!"
The Wretch looked toward the crowd if any and stated one last sentence.
"This play is a work of fiction, and any facts or resemblance to actual Lords, living or dead or napping, is entirely coincidental."
