Crowd Work
**Janus**
The gate was opened quickly, and we were ushered inside, the gate closing behind us immediately. The city’s buildings, unlike their shoddy wall, were in good condition. The Houses lining the street wouldn’t lose to the rich market areas in the capital, and there wasn’t even a single beggar in sight. It’s true what they say about Baron Morenberg doing a good job at running the city.
If only he had invested more in its security.
While I made my judgment about Aldmoor, we were led towards a large crowd of protesters that had clumped around a big, pompous villa. The second the group’s leader noticed us, the entire mass of people began to march towards us. The creampuff quickly hid behind his guards, with only his head sticking out.
Shouts of, what are the guards doing, where do our taxes go and insults like useless posh bastard and fat creampuff began to fly towards us from all sides. He must have led us here to bring them the good news of our arrival, but the powdered Baron, under all this pressure, couldn’t even bring himself to answer. But the leader, a rough-looking farmhand, managed to shut them all up just by raising his calloused hand.
“Mayor Baron Karl Morenberg,” the listing of his full name made the Baron flinch with each word, “the rice is about to rot on the field if nothing is done. The prices are rising daily, and a piece of bread is already double what it had been before the Bandits arrived. The last five who have tried to harvest never returned, and the few merchants who arrived have lost everything. We all know what should be done. The life of one couldn’t possibly be worth all this.”
Behind his guard, the Mayor sank together like a failed Soufflé. If it’s as bad as he says, then it makes sense for them to be angry. But whose life are they talking about?
“Please just hand over the priest, then they will leave us alone.”
The Baron looked back at us, meeting my gaze, and I shook my head sternly. If the priest dies, this was all for naught, not to mention that it will take even longer for the church to send someone over if he dies. There is no way the clergy would want to send someone to us after we let one of their own die, let alone give him up willingly to a bunch of lawless murderers.
Now, for the first time, the Baron talked back to his accusers.
“I can’t do that. The church wouldn’t forgive me, and neither would Marquess Yuwen if I sent the priest towards his death.”
The crowd began to grow agitated. They didn’t care for the political implications of handing the priest over. They just wanted an easy solution.
“But…!”
“But thankfully, Marquess Yuwen has sent the best of his men to our rescue. They will deal with the Bandits for sure without sullying the renown of our great city, Aldmoor.”
Finally, the crowd averted their eyes from Baron Creampuff, who was sweating rivers, and looked at us.
Hey, hey, don’t just make promises in our name, and even though it’s true,’ the best of his men’? How would he know? Even though I wanted to say those things right now, it was more important to de-escalate. I will save my complaints for later.
But unlike me, Joel didn’t seem to care for de-escalation.
“Cowards, the lot of you!”
“““What!”””
Sigh, by the gods, why? I felt the beginning of a headache cropping up.
“Instead of fighting, you just sit on your ass and blame the guy in charge. You are even willing to sell out a man of the faith to save your own hide. Have you no honor?!”
Contrary to what I feared, the crowd grew deathly silent, bitterly biting their collective lips. He must have hit the nail on the head.
“But don’t worry, we will save your sorry asses. These Bandits aren’t even worth the dirt under my shoes. Just yesterday, on our way here, we killed eighty of them without even losing a single one of our own.”
At Joel’s bold declaration, murmurs began to sound throughout the crowd,
““What eighty? Did they really? Now that I take a closer look, they do look strong.””
The leader tried his best to keep the crowd cohesive, but they slowly parted ways for us, allowing access to the villa once more.
