High Upkeep
Grog Strongback needed a drink. He'd been working for four solid hours with the others building more farms to provide for the useless footmen the King insisted on recruiting to help his cause against the Orcs. They were now onto their fifth farm of the week and there was no repose in sight, for the need for food was paramount. Of course, they wouldn't have had this problem if they'd listened to Grog earlier - he'd reported to his superiors that more farms were needed if the King was to expand his army at such a rapid rate but they had ignored his request to pursue 'more important matters', namely the training of the Kingdom's new Hero.
'Big deal', thought Grog, he's no good without an army, and an army's no good without food. Now he was stuck here working overtime on the farms, his superiors yelling that they must be completed as quickly as possible, so the chickens could produce eggs for the soldiers' breakfasts. It didn't help matters that Jonny Layabout was living up to his name and not pitching in - he'd finished his little task of repairing the lumber yard after the last attack and was standing around listlessly in the shade of a nearby tree, with a blank expression on his chubby face.
'Useless git', Grog grumbled under his breath. It didn't seem fair at all that a master craftsman like himself was paid even less than a lousy footman. He and most of the other peasants were just as good at a pinch in battle, as well as being able to function as lumberjacks, master builders and gold miners. Not that Grog minded what he did - it was probably smarter to stay in a defended kingdom base as a worker than to rush off in a foolhardy attempt to attack enemy territory, or go on dangerous training exercises with the kingdom's 'Hero of the week'. But without the peasants, the kingdom would be nothing - and maybe it was high time the King was reminded of that, Grog thought to himself with a sly smile.
Later that night at the pub, Grog gathered his fellow workers to listen to his plan. 'Too long, have our great efforts gone unnoticed!' he roared to the crowd, raising his mug of ale to the skies. 'We are the foundation of this very kindom!' 'Hear hear!' came the rumbling approval of his listeners. 'We work harder than anyone else in the King's employ!' 'He speaks the truth to be sure!' echoed Jonny Layabout, gulping down his ale with a grin on his face. Grog continued, 'Yet, my fellow workers, our efforts are not rewarded! We're picked on, ordered around, yelled at, overworked and underappreciated! But we go on without a fuss, we profess openly our readiness to work, and we obey every order given to us! But now,' he paused and looked around, 'the time has come to remind the King how good we've been to him. Our time has come!' The cheers of the peasant crowd almost raised the roof, as they raised their mugs to Grog in salute. 'So Grog, what's yer plan?' asked Bram Smokepipe. 'Listen up,' Grog said, 'and I'll tell you just what we're going to do...'
'WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY WON'T WORK?!?' the King shouted at the officer who had just delivered his report. The officer quivered noticeably before the monarch. 'Well, S-Sire, you see, the peasants are saying that they have b-been underpaid, and, er, underappreciated, what with all they do -' 'Look here you blithering idiot!' roared the King. 'We have one good chance to win this war against Dirk Grimslade and those bloody Orcs, and that chance is now! And I need things done around here, WITH THE GREATEST OF SPEED! Now,' the King breathed, calming himself, 'what will it take to get those ungrateful sods to get up off their asses and back to work?' The officer gulped, appearing distinctly uncomfortable.
'W-well, my liege, the good news is, they are happy with the work itself, but they'd like to be treated with more respect.. and.. er..' he faltered slightly under the intense glare the King was giving him. 'And.. they d-demand to be more highly paid, to keep up with the cost of living.. they call it, the result of a high upkeep..'
The King looked quite incredulous. 'I don't believe it, I'm being held to ransom by a bunch of villagers, when Grimslade and his army are getting ready to strike! I'd get rid of the lot of them and get some more loyal workers but that would cost me even more gold, and time that I don't have.' The King's eyes narrowed. 'Very well then - pay them more, and tell your fellow officers to get rid of their pompous attitudes and start listening to my peasants - as I recall it was their failure to take heed of the growing army numbers that led to our inefficient production of food.. am I not correct?'
'W-well, no, I-I mean yes, in a way..' 'Oh for heavens sake, stop wasting my time!' said the King impatiently. 'Get the peasants back to work immediately, at full production, and mobilize the army to march on Grimslade with our Hero - he should be well equipped to crush the Orcs soon enough. Now get out of here!'
Grog was amazed how quickly the strike had gotten results - the peasants were back to work with hardly any delay after the King had agreed to their terms. Working on upgrading guard tower with Bram later the following afternoon, he could see the troops beginning to return home to the base with their Hero from their battle, with smiles all round. 'A crushing victory for us over Grimslade,' announced the King as he addressed his troops. 'My sincerest gratitude to our hero, who has saved this realm once again, to the brave soldiers and sorcerers who aided our victory, and to our peasants, who tirelessly worked to gather the necessary resources and to construct our base of operations for our war effort. Victory is ours!' As cheers went up throughout the entire crowd, it was Grog who had the biggest smile on his face at the King's praise. Even the people who seemed to be the least essential in achieving such a glorious victory over the Orcs deserved to be recognised for their efforts, and finally his wish had come true. Plus, he could now drink twice as much at the pub every night with the extra gold he was making - after all, his name wasn't Grog for nothing.
Grog Strongback needed a drink. He'd been working for four solid hours with the others building more farms to provide for the useless footmen the King insisted on recruiting to help his cause against the Orcs. They were now onto their fifth farm of the week and there was no repose in sight, for the need for food was paramount. Of course, they wouldn't have had this problem if they'd listened to Grog earlier - he'd reported to his superiors that more farms were needed if the King was to expand his army at such a rapid rate but they had ignored his request to pursue 'more important matters', namely the training of the Kingdom's new Hero.
'Big deal', thought Grog, he's no good without an army, and an army's no good without food. Now he was stuck here working overtime on the farms, his superiors yelling that they must be completed as quickly as possible, so the chickens could produce eggs for the soldiers' breakfasts. It didn't help matters that Jonny Layabout was living up to his name and not pitching in - he'd finished his little task of repairing the lumber yard after the last attack and was standing around listlessly in the shade of a nearby tree, with a blank expression on his chubby face.
'Useless git', Grog grumbled under his breath. It didn't seem fair at all that a master craftsman like himself was paid even less than a lousy footman. He and most of the other peasants were just as good at a pinch in battle, as well as being able to function as lumberjacks, master builders and gold miners. Not that Grog minded what he did - it was probably smarter to stay in a defended kingdom base as a worker than to rush off in a foolhardy attempt to attack enemy territory, or go on dangerous training exercises with the kingdom's 'Hero of the week'. But without the peasants, the kingdom would be nothing - and maybe it was high time the King was reminded of that, Grog thought to himself with a sly smile.
Later that night at the pub, Grog gathered his fellow workers to listen to his plan. 'Too long, have our great efforts gone unnoticed!' he roared to the crowd, raising his mug of ale to the skies. 'We are the foundation of this very kindom!' 'Hear hear!' came the rumbling approval of his listeners. 'We work harder than anyone else in the King's employ!' 'He speaks the truth to be sure!' echoed Jonny Layabout, gulping down his ale with a grin on his face. Grog continued, 'Yet, my fellow workers, our efforts are not rewarded! We're picked on, ordered around, yelled at, overworked and underappreciated! But we go on without a fuss, we profess openly our readiness to work, and we obey every order given to us! But now,' he paused and looked around, 'the time has come to remind the King how good we've been to him. Our time has come!' The cheers of the peasant crowd almost raised the roof, as they raised their mugs to Grog in salute. 'So Grog, what's yer plan?' asked Bram Smokepipe. 'Listen up,' Grog said, 'and I'll tell you just what we're going to do...'
'WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY WON'T WORK?!?' the King shouted at the officer who had just delivered his report. The officer quivered noticeably before the monarch. 'Well, S-Sire, you see, the peasants are saying that they have b-been underpaid, and, er, underappreciated, what with all they do -' 'Look here you blithering idiot!' roared the King. 'We have one good chance to win this war against Dirk Grimslade and those bloody Orcs, and that chance is now! And I need things done around here, WITH THE GREATEST OF SPEED! Now,' the King breathed, calming himself, 'what will it take to get those ungrateful sods to get up off their asses and back to work?' The officer gulped, appearing distinctly uncomfortable.
'W-well, my liege, the good news is, they are happy with the work itself, but they'd like to be treated with more respect.. and.. er..' he faltered slightly under the intense glare the King was giving him. 'And.. they d-demand to be more highly paid, to keep up with the cost of living.. they call it, the result of a high upkeep..'
The King looked quite incredulous. 'I don't believe it, I'm being held to ransom by a bunch of villagers, when Grimslade and his army are getting ready to strike! I'd get rid of the lot of them and get some more loyal workers but that would cost me even more gold, and time that I don't have.' The King's eyes narrowed. 'Very well then - pay them more, and tell your fellow officers to get rid of their pompous attitudes and start listening to my peasants - as I recall it was their failure to take heed of the growing army numbers that led to our inefficient production of food.. am I not correct?'
'W-well, no, I-I mean yes, in a way..' 'Oh for heavens sake, stop wasting my time!' said the King impatiently. 'Get the peasants back to work immediately, at full production, and mobilize the army to march on Grimslade with our Hero - he should be well equipped to crush the Orcs soon enough. Now get out of here!'
Grog was amazed how quickly the strike had gotten results - the peasants were back to work with hardly any delay after the King had agreed to their terms. Working on upgrading guard tower with Bram later the following afternoon, he could see the troops beginning to return home to the base with their Hero from their battle, with smiles all round. 'A crushing victory for us over Grimslade,' announced the King as he addressed his troops. 'My sincerest gratitude to our hero, who has saved this realm once again, to the brave soldiers and sorcerers who aided our victory, and to our peasants, who tirelessly worked to gather the necessary resources and to construct our base of operations for our war effort. Victory is ours!' As cheers went up throughout the entire crowd, it was Grog who had the biggest smile on his face at the King's praise. Even the people who seemed to be the least essential in achieving such a glorious victory over the Orcs deserved to be recognised for their efforts, and finally his wish had come true. Plus, he could now drink twice as much at the pub every night with the extra gold he was making - after all, his name wasn't Grog for nothing.