King Roald glanced at the document briefly then handed it back to his advisor.
“Aeonisig, are you sure the peasants won't react negatively to this notice?” inquired Roald.
“I highly doubt it your majesty. It is only a proposal, not an act or a law.”
“Yes, I know, but we've never done anything like this before.”
“Sir, from my experiences with these peasants, I can tell you that most of them do not care. They only worry about us if we increase their taxes or defend them from invading armies. They see us as a protective force and nothing else.”
“I'm still not sure we should do this.”
“Trust me your highness, you should,” assured Aeonisig. Roald sighed as he looked out the window left of his throne.
“I guess that is why I hired you, because I trust you.”
“Yes your highness, and a wise decision that was. I hope I have proven to be helpful in more than just spiritual manners. The worst thing that could happen is that the peasants and townsfolk don't like it, they unanimously reject it, we drop the proposal, and move on.”
“I hope you're right Aeonisig.” Roald scanned the parchment one last time before placing his seal on it and handing it to an assistant. “Please make copies and distribute them throughout Varrock and Lumbridge.”
“Yes your highness,” replied the assistant, who then walked briskly from the throne room.
“If you'll excuse me your highness, it is time for my daily prayer,” interjected Aeonisig.
“As it is also time for my meal. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you your excellency,” Aeonisig replied. He then walked out of the throne room and upstairs to the chapel. He opened the doors to find a monk sitting in the pew, bent over in prayer.
“Is it through?” questioned the monk.
“Yes, but it is not passed. I did not try to press him to make it a law right away.”
“Why not? We need this to go through to start making a move against Zamorak's forces.”
“Yes, I know that. But we also need to stay undercover. You remember how the H.A.M. Militants lost their blow after Sigmund couldn't control himself as the Duke's advisor.”
"Yes, but the H.A.M. Group has always struggled in their plans. That is why we refuse to let them join us, or refrain from joining them.”
“You should return to the Monastery. Say a prayer for me with our brothers.” The monk nodded then walked out, head down.* * *
Fred the farmer was old. He had seen a lot of interesting happenings in his lifetime: a swarm of locusts, several droughts, the banks of the river Lum bursting into a flood, a raid of the Lumbridge swamp by the H.A.M. Group, and many young “adventurers” killing his chickens, stealing his crops to increase their “cooking levels,” and shearing the wool of his sheep without asking. Yes, Fred had seen a lot, but even he was surprised when he saw the new proposal.
“I don't know what's wrong with the amount of weapons we have,” he inquired to his neighbor Frank the farmer. “I don't see how setting a limit will fix anything. And what is there exactly to fix?”
“I think some folks are mad about the murders that have taken place recently. They've found several homeless folk and suspected criminals dead in alleyways and fields.”
“And so they think they should take their weapons away? I have only shed blood once with my sword, and that was on a wolf attacking my crops. There has always been crime and murders and there always will be.”
“I think they believe there hasn't been enough regulation. Any man can to go the local blacksmith and have any number of weapons made.”
“Who needs this regulation? The only regulation we need is in the weather, which fortunately we've had. The past two years have been great. The rains are good, crops are good, life is good. I've payed my taxes, what more do they want from me?”
“I think they just want to make our towns and villages safer. It's only one proposal and-”
“Soon there will be more proposals and laws and we'll be up to our necks in regulations!” interrupted Fred. “Then we'll fall into the trap of government and be slaves before we know it!” Fred started to walk away before he turned around and ranted “You have a lot to learn about kings and their governments young'un!” He lumbered off to his crops, muttering things about weapons, governments, and inefficient housewives.* * *
A few yards away, a man robed in pink dashed through the Lumbridge swamp to an abandoned house lying in ruins. He cleared away some rubble to reveal a hidden trapdoor. He knocked on the door three times, then twice more after hearing four knocks back. The trapdoor popped open and the man slipped inside. He chatted with another pink robed man in the shadows.
“What is the word form Lumbridge?”
“The king of Varrock has suggested a limitation on the amount of weapons a man can own. It is only a proposal and discussion is open to all.”
“So we are open to discuss?”
“Yes, but the likelihood of our opinions mattering to those traitors is low.”
“Any response from the locals?”
“The Duke has not said anything. The local peasants generally oppose it, but I fear it is not strong enough. If it passes, we may see similar laws in other regions.”
“This proposal definitely does not work in our favor to have it passed. We need those weapons to destroy the vile beasts that lurk the woods above us.”
“Yes, we must bring down any proposal threatening our power or operations.”
“Do we have a plan?”
“Yes and it is underway. We are debriefing soon.” The two men each lit a lantern and shuffled further into the darkened lair.