Marshall Law,
I trust your assignment to the village in Ravenwood has proven fruitful. King Rupert’s reign continues auspiciously, and with my recent appointment as one of His Majesty’s premier generals, he has asked that I undertake correspondence with a number of our regional agents to ensure that the remote towns of East Anglia continue to adhere to His Majesty’s laws.
I have taken personal pleasure in reviewing the records of our agents in various rural areas of the kingdom since my appointment. I have noticed, however, that the region of Ravenwood shares a disproportionally small ratio of the arrests requested for this quarter. Given your illustrious record, I would hope that your reputation would not be marred by something so small as a missed quota.
Consider increasing the number of arrests processed in your district posthaste. I would certainly hate to involve His Majesty in such a trivial matter as this.
Cordially,
Lord General Palimore
This letter makes Marshall Law think about his “position” as a regional agent. Here are the thoughts he is mulling:
I was a falcon. I trained and handled a falconer with whom grew a friendship. By a series of unfortunate magical events and botches I was transformed from a beautiful winged master of the sky to this human form. I have grown comfortable with the transition, but I am still “free as a bird” in my heart.
I settled in Ravenwood because I liked the place. Legs can’t carry one far in a day, so stationary is the lot of a human.
The merchants and town steward began to pay me to help with disturbances in town, for disturbances are bad for business, and everyone desires at heart a place where they can feel safe and at home. I take my job seriously; in the town, I keep the law. And I know my boundaries – outside of town there is no law that can tame it.
The only reason I, and most of the others, stay in Ravenwood is because we are free. Sure, a king comes through occasionally and brings of news of the land, and we treat him well because he seems to be a decent fellow — as decent as anyone else in Ravenwood at least. But “Lord General Palimore”? This Lord General Palimore who thinks I report to him…?
I bristle at the thought of being part of “the Kingdom”, and “adhering to “His Majesty’s laws”. That doesn’t sound like freedom. It sounds like chains, and chains don’t suit a bird.
I’ll keep town as seems befitting to town. I’ll be nice to King Rupert as along as he mostly stays away. I’ll be nice to those he sends our way as long as they mostly stay away. But my body will be the temperature of the ground before I will be made to follow the commands of an Ivory Tower chair warmer like Lord General Palimore. That you can take that as gospel.