Negotiating for a king’s grace

Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical.

Emilio, the farmer, stood dumbfounded as he watched the king’s men setting up a massive tent. What was a flat green pasture, a source of his livelihood, had been turned into a circus despite his protests.

It all began at crack of dawn, without as much as an inkling of a warning. Emilio was about to begin his day when his ears picked up the tell-tale noises of an approaching caravan. He found this to be odd as no one ever came this west of Britain except for those pesky pumpkin thieves during Halloween season.

Confused and alarmed, he picked up his pitchfork and went down the road to investigate. Only few paces led him to a caravan being accompanied by men dressed in the garb of Royal Guards.

*slightly taken back by the presence of guards in his neck of the woods*

Emilio: Hail frhiends, have you losth yourh way? The cithy is in the opposithe dirhection!

Lane: *makes a dismissive gesture* We are not lost, peasant! This is royal business. Do not attempt to interfere, lest you would like to feel the butt of my halberd.

Emilio: *smiles nervously* King’s  business, eh? Has Lord Brhitish rheturned then?

Lane: *holds Emilio by the collar of his tattered shirt* Lord Casca, the new king, is to hold important negotiations here. We are to erect a tent at that farmland over there

*points in the direction of Emilio’s farm*

Emilio: *looking confused* Merhcy, I meanth no offense.

Emilio: *realizes that the guard pointed towards his farm* Buth.. you musth noth build on thath land, Sirhe! Thath be my fahrm… I need the land rheady for sowing!

Lane: *looks towards the other guards* This peasant wants us to not build the tent on his farm because he needs to plant seeds. Should we pack up and go tell Lord Casca that we cannot build his tent?

*chuckles along with the other guards*

Emilio: Sirhe, pleas…

*falls to his knees by a sudden blow to his gut*

Lane: Silence! We are going to build this tent on your farm and we are going to use your grain to feed the men on your table. Got anything to say about it?

Emilio: *bites his tongue* King is mosth welcome, Sirhe!


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