Street theater
"I am invincible!" screamed a masked man at the crowd of people around a large clearing around him. The mask was bursting with anger, with its mouth in a permanent snarl and its forehead furrowed into several, unsightly folds. "I am the lord and master of all that is in Zu! I am the Lord-Magistrate, undisputed ruler of this Dominion!"
From the watching crowd came a trio of masked men, circling the first one with heads bowed in acquiescence. Their mock faces marked with eternal boredom, mouths gaping and eyes sad and wide. They all carried thick wooden sticks, imitations of the ceremonial gilded staves that high-ranking civil servants carry to symbolize their power and authority.
"You, cousin of my cousin's second wife's sister! Welcome to the fold!" the angry Lord-Magistrate greeted the first of the stick-bearers. "You are to be the Minister of Grass-tending, to keep the landscape green in my name!"
The now-Minister of Grass-tending suddenly stood bolt upright, taking him away from bowing and circling, forcing him to stop abruptly at where he stood. Unfortunate for the three, the other two men were not looking and bumped unwittingly against the newly proclaimed Minister of Grass-tending. This caused them to fall to the ground, to the displeasure of the Lord-Magistrate.
"What idiocy is this at my feet, that you, my new Minister of Grass-tending, are to fall like so?" shouted the angry Lord-Magistrate, shaking his fists at the air with rage. He stomped wildly, and kicked the lump of three men on the ground. The three did not move, which only served to fuel the Lord-Magistrate's anger.
"Off with their ears, off with their fingers, off their hands and feet...and then OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" screamed the Lord-Magistrate, raising a finger to the sky with his feet raising him beyond his normal height. From the crowd came three more masked men, this time with deathly serious faces, armed with wooden spears and wooden shields. They marched in a straight line, with feet perfectly synchronized in marching.
"What crimes have they committed, my Lord-Magistrate?" said one of the armed men, his spear pointed at the lump of men on the ground. His associates were still as stone, their spears pointing upwards and shields planted firmly to the ground.
"They have dared to show incompetence before my people! That is a crime unforgivable," said the Lord-Magistrate, crossing his arms and standing straight and firm. "Send him to the torture chambers, to the boiling pots of oil, to the quarries in Yush...wherever it may be that they are duly punished for their crimes!"
Suddenly, another trio of masked men entered the scene, waving bamboo sticks and old animal hides. They had masks with neutral expressions, but were marked with large, curly beards. They had a frantic air about them; some would call it savage civility or civil savagery, but it was, in many ways, inhuman.
Upon reaching the Lord-Magistrate and the armed men, they stood hunched and looked at one another repeatedly. They looked as though they whispering to one another, sharing with each other everything from ancient knowledge to what their servants have been eating for breakfast. They moved about their places in an unsettled fashion, but in the end they all stood up dignified and addressed the Lord-Magistrate.
"You cannot possibly have them killed," said one of the half-savage men. He was shaking his bamboo stick at the Lord-Magistrate, at the same time pointing at the piece of wood. His head was facing the Lord-Magistrate directly, unmoving like the armed men's.
"Nor can you have them sent to the quarries of Yush," said another, pointing an accusing finger at the Lord-Magistrate. He too faced the Lord-Magistrate, as though staring intensely with the mask's blank eyes.
"And, definitely, you cannot have them cut up and dismembered in such a barbaric fashion," said the last one, as though reading from a large piece of animal hide. However, in the end, he, too, faced the Lord-Magistrate with a stiff head with empty eyes staring intensely.
"Nonsense!" retorted the Lord-Magistrate, moving to place the three bearded men directly in front of him. He then proceeded to slap the bearded faces with one strike and push their arms down with another. "I can do whatever I want!"
"Nonsense!" the three retorted in turn as they all resumed staring down the Lord-Magistrate. They all kicked him back then stepped forward, asserting their positions. "We are the Scholars of the Academy, and we say you can't."
"How come?" the Lord-Magistrate said as he stood up. His mask was lopsided, and his clothes were smeared with dirt where the Scholars had kicked him. "Is it not lawful and right, by custom and general consensus, that I, the Lord-Magistrate, hold the power to kill, maim, spill the blood of, twist, torture, boil, drown, feed to large cats, send to do inhumanly cruel labor, feed rotting fishes to, draw graffiti on, humiliate publicly, or in any other way destroy those who have offended me or the people of Zu?"
"It is clear in our memories that anyone appointed to the position of Minister of Grass-tending is to serve a full year before being fully judged, by the Scholar-bureaucrats, for any flaws he or she may have," said the one with the bamboo stick.
"It is clear in our memories that the Lord-Magistrate may only burn in splintered firewood or pin with a hundred needles at medically prescribed points those who have stumbled down in front of both the people and the Lord-Magistrate, therefore ending up humiliating themselves in front of the said people," said the one who was holding nothing.
"It is clear in our memories that the one with the full authority, power, discretion, and such to find a public servant guilty of misdemeanor or disservice..." said the one with the animal hide, leaving his sentence hanging. He faced the Scholar next to him.
"...could only be the only Council with enough wisdom and knowledge to do such important things..." said the Scholar who held nothing. He turned his mask to face the last Scholar.
"...are the wise, venerated, respectable Scholars of the Academy," the Scholar with the bamboo finished. "You see, it is not you who has the power around here. It is us." With that, the bearded-mask men did a wild, screaming dance around the speechless and slumped Lord-Magistrate, celebrating their apparent victory of words.
One of the armed men suddenly stepped up and respectfully bowed to his superiors, the Lord-Magistrate and the Scholars. The four bureaucrats suddenly stopped in whatever they were doing and faced the soldier, this time sporting an air of strong respectability. When facing their subjects, they never let their guards down.
"Speak," commanded the four all at once.
"Do you wish for us to send these men to the torture chambers, to be dipped in boiling pots of oil, to be sent to work in the quarries in Yush, to be killed, to be maimed, to have their blood spilled, to be twisted horrendously, to be tortured inhumanly, to be boiled, to be drowned, to be fed to large cats, to be sent to do inhumanly cruel labor elsewhere, to be fed rotting fishes, to be drawn graffiti on, to be humiliated publicly, to be burned in a pile of splintered firewood, or to be pinned with a hundred needles at medically prescribed points?" said the soldier slowly as to not lose his breath. "We are badly needed at the borders and at the sea."
"Stay and wait!" said the three Scholars. At the same time, the Lord-Magistrate had said "Go and fight!" Soon enough, they tried staring each other down once again. The soldier simply stepped back to his comrades, waiting for the decision of the leaders. In the background, more masked men entered the scene. Three men with beastly, fanged masks and wooden axes were beating down three men who had the look of peasant-farmers, each of whom had hoes for self-defense.
In a few minutes time spent in argument and mutual frustration between the Scholars and the Lord-Magistrate, the peasant-fighters were beaten badly. In the end, the beastly men were pushed back into the crowd by the soldiers. When the final blow was struck upon the last of the beastly men, all the masked actors froze as was proper.
"Thank you for watching," shouted the man who played the part of the angry Lord-Magistrate cheerily, stepping out of his frozen pose. All of the actors soon followed, unfreezing in order of appearance. Finally, they all assembled in a circle in the middle of the crowd, giving a great bow to their delighted, coin-throwing audience.
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ooc: Kind of rushed, yes...