[ WP ] The hero was killed , the princess was sacrificed , and the evil king rules the land . For the average citizen , though , things have taken a turn for the better .

The bustle of people, the creaks of wooden wheels recently fixed, the sight of strong oxen in the square. It was a might day for the first market, the first day in many years that farmers could roam the square and find a fair offering. They were free to spend a season's worth of work knowing that they would make more than a silver hex today. There were even more than two types of potatoes on show. 
 
 
 The king's guard patrolled the square in pairs of four, two squads on opposite ends with a guard tower on the north and west side of the square. The town hall on the south entrance by the square was already overburdened with practictioners, eager boys of coin and financiers that wanted to apply for permits, licenses, to become entangled with the kingdom's bureaucracy. 
 
 
 There were even two jugglers in one corner, entertaining a group of children. Throwing oranges to the children, making them laugh, the jester juggling jokers went about their business unmolested by the king's guards. In fact, farmers passed the guards with smiles, boy attempting a poor salute and elderly grandmothers trying to gift them ripe apples. 
 
 
 From the top floor of the town hall, shielded by a tinted window, Lord Farnsworth looked down at his subjects. They were contented, happy peoples that concerned themselves with the daily running of their lives, made possible by the sacrifice of the few, the blood of the strong and the tears of the last king, now deceased under a bed of limestone, six feet under. 
 
 
 Lord Farnsworth's rivals would spread lies that his rule was based on tainted blood, the blood of martyrs and the blood of an innocent noblewoman. Lies about false rumors, a king overthrown and a kingdom thrown away for the price of a gold hex. 
 
 
 But as the people saw it, nothing had changed. The last king cared for nothing than his daughter, a woman that scorned all men's affections save one, the Earl of Threin. The son of a drunk and the bastard child of the king, Lord Farnsworth saw a solution. A means to an end. 
 
 
 Money is the lifeblood of a city, and connecting cities meant connecting the money of the world. The way he saw it, if could make the kingdom's capital the center of those connections, he would n't have to care about his rivals. Rivals, he knew, had their price. 
 
 
 And so did the knight. So did the princess. So did the king. 
 
 
 Promise the knight the king's death, and the princess's hand in marriage, and the rest will fall. Reassure the king that the princess will not marry the Earl, and the king will fill your accounts with gold. Tell the princess that she has been married to the Dukedom of Rhonde, a land of brutes, and she will fall upon her own knife. 
 
 
 And thus, the dominoes fall. All for Lord Farnsworth, and the life blood of the city.
