Benny Green was having a bad day. Of course life was never exactly what one would call rosy for Imrecs' top Woodsman, but today definitely ranked up their with some of the worst, Benny deftly moved his head to avoid a piece of fruit flung by the source of today’s problems - an angry mob.

"Look, there's no point in flinging fruit at me like that," he had to shout to be heard over the jeers,
"we're on the same side here, right?"
"Oh no we ain’t" shouted one of the peasants who made up the crowd, apparently one off the ring leaders.
"Yes we are!"
"You're working for the toffs! We know your sort." This one evidently had a brain. Thankfully, Benny was smarter than he was. He had to be if he wasn't to join the local nobility on the bonfire that stood smouldering behind him, the hint of burned flesh floating on the gentle breeze.
"My friends," he called down from the wooden platform on which he stood - apparently it was erected to throw corpses onto the flames from, although right now he was more interested in its use as a platform for public speaking.
"I come here not to put you under the oppressive boot of the bureaucracy. I come to save you from your troubles. I stand before you to offer an alternative- freedom from the tyranny you have so far undergone! Freedom from the wrath of the Queen, who even now readies her troops to wipe out this village! Freedom from-"
"Shut up! You ain’t no 'ero!"
"What?" This last interruption had unsurprisingly startled Benny.
"I says you ain’t no 'ero. You can't go offerin' us Freedom. It's illegal!" He made a good point.
"I'm here on behalf of one. Sir George the amicable," he replied, curtly.
"So why ain’t he here 'imself, eh?" darn his eyes!
"Because he's busy having his sword cleaned, that's why!"
"Well that's just bloody typical, ain’t it? Bloody heroes carn't even be bothered to liberate townships themselves!"
A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. Benny had to stop himself nodding in agreement. It was unfair. It should have been Sir George, not him, who was up their on that rickety wooden platform giving motivational speeches. But Sir George was not a motivational speech-type hero: he was more of an acceptance speech sort. Then again, if George was willing to pay for someone to do the dirty work for him, that was
his problem and more fool him! Time for a change of tactics.
"Ok then, how d'you lot plan on running this community by yourselves?"
"What?"
"How d'you plan on coping, eh? Can’t imagine you'll find it any easier keeping it going without the nobs sorting out the complicated stuff, aye? And what about defence? Gonna fight off the Queen's men with pitchforks?"
"Oh..." This time the murmur was of a more worried, confused tone, "we adn't thought o' that."
This was where it got easier. Benny grinned to himself.
"Exactly! And that's why entering into the democratically-run sub-state of the lands of Sir George is so advisable. Ol' George does the 'ard work, you 'ave new freedoms you didn't 'ave before an' Iyar remains a strong kingdom. Whad'ya say?"
A cheer rose up from the crowd.

Benny sighed with relief as he moved down from the platform. Sure, most of the villagers would be dead in a few months thanks to Sir George's utter incompetence when it came to actually doing any work, but the Queen didn't have to massacre them, costs were saved in raising an army, and there was no need for bad press. Sir George had saved the day again. Benny spat at the injustice, and made his way, slowly, back to Sir George’s' keep to collect his pay. He already had plans on which barmaid to spend it with- or what was left of it after the guild took their cut, anyway.