Hell Hath No Fury....

[Waverley]

By the end of this skit, everyone is talking.

She's a small and slightly smudged thing, drab in her common browns and her common accent. A mingler amidst the small crowd, watching the proceedings with as slow a grin as everyone else; with wide green eyes sometimes, as well. They talk as the play goes on, of course; they always have, it being a public stage and the skits generally involving the town's more... noteable figures. At some point, she's remarked to the chuckling bloke next to her:

"That one's s'posed to be Reinstadler," to which there's a nod, and a bit of argument over the name's proper pronunciation. 'Foreign', it's generally agreed by the end of it, foreign and a bit tricky, really. Just like everything that comes from the capital.

"Right, you remember him," she prompts the fellow. "From the square, handing out them pardons. Do you s'pose he's seen this?" Which prompts some snickers and a bit of speculation from this small group of theatre-goers, there being something quite rich about the Crown being lampooned on small town streets.

"'Course," she allows a little forlornly, "he did get here a bit late; if he'd gotten here a month ago, he could've pardoned that Ashfiend, as well." It's a wonderful act. Her grin doesn't surface until long moments after the words have settled into their minds, and then it's a pandemonium of harsh laughter for true.

By noon, word has spread and there's quite a crowd gathered in hopes of seeing a repeat performance. After all, everyone knows the royal emissary features in it.

[Dhugal]

The play caused other talk as well.

There were many men both among the crown and within the
Constabulary whose hard labor had helped build Fort Sumpter.
And there were also some still grieving over the loss of loved ones
in the campaign against the Ashfiend.

At any rate, the play had done it's work. People were talking.
And as the helpful novices point out to the audience afterwards,
it is not the newcomer on the stage being the fool.

[Dhugal]

After one of the afternoon performances a pair of farmers were laughing
so hard they were getting laughs from their fellow audience members.

"Damnation, Harry, can y' believe it? First Karolinger leads the
Guvnor's lad's a merry chase, an' finally turns hisself in..."

"Aye, Thad. Probably outta pity f' them!"

"But wait...then they lock him up for what...a week or two in tha' cell?"
Thad poked his friend in the ribs. "Sits in there, eats, rests...an' all
the bloody time, he could ha' left ANYTIME he wanted!"

"Oh, aye, they say the Guvnor was in a cold fury, they did, when he
found out he t'was gone.Can ye imagine the LOOK on his face when heard?"

There was a general round of laughter at that.

"Well, he did have that pardon. Serves the Guvnor an' th' Council right
when they tried t' keep him locked up after foreign fellow brought it."

There was some head nodding. Thad took a swig from the water bottle
the novices had given him earlier. "I hear the Guvnor want's Fort
Sumpter torn down to the ground because Karolinger used some secret
passage out. Hell, what fort ain't got bolt-holes out o' some sort or
another? Otherwise, y' men inside are trapped! Course, th' place was
built by the Janeiros, t'weren't it, an' we all know how th' Guvnor feels
about them, don't we?"

There was another round of nodding, then Thad stood up. "Don't know
about th' rest o' you fellers but I have crops to tend to an' no time to
lend a hand to tearin' down one fort an' buildin' another just because
the Guvnor's in a snit over Karolinger again. G'day, lads!" He started
to move away, then gave a laugh and a shake of the head. "But y' have
t' admit, that Karolinger, he's a caution, ain't he?"