Disclaimer: Not to be taken seriously.

------------------------------------------

Our protagonist walked the streets of the village. This was the typical run-down-by-the-evil-and-tyrannical-government-type village that every wandering hero wants to find. In fact, this hero had been looking for a place like this for sixty years. But because no one wants to read a story about a sixty-year old bald dude, our protagonist was seventeen. He was clad in pre-antagonist-confrontation heroic gear, not yet armor, but still rugged enough that he looks like a wandering mystery man, looking for a tavern to stay in. Tapping his trusty sword, which looked normal but wielded untold powers that he inherited as a birthright, in tune to the bleating sheep.

Entering a nearby inn he walked over to the counter and ordered some ale. The barkeeper stood in shock, most probably, our protagonist thought, because of his amazing looks.

“So,” she stuttered, trying to look halfway decent, “you’re a new face in this little village. What do you call yourself, stranger?”

“My name is of no concern,” he said smoothly, he had practiced for sixty years, “but many call me Kendall.” And shortly after, surprisingly, he left the tavern without provoking or befriending anyone. There were no sidekicks or archenemies yet, merely because the author wished it so.

Walking out he took a deep breath of fresh air. Well, the air was as fresh as it could get if it was a run-down-because-of-the-villain village. He walked towards an old woman sobbing on the street.

“Is something wrong, dear elderly lady?” Kendall had practiced this too.

“Oh, young man, my husband went off to the war our government has taken with the neighboring lands. The army came back for my son, and now they have taken my grandson away from me. They’ve gone, gone, to be killed!”

“How could they do this to you?” He cried, outraged. As a hero he was always surprised of the obvious. “Listen, ma’am, I’ll find them, I’ll find them if it is the last thing I do!” And as a hero, of course, he was also idiotic—if not, then at least, out of his mind.

“Ah but many crazy people did marvelous things.” He said, as if to himself, not realizing that it was merely the author’s self-conscious way to justify herself.

He walked through the city where many paused to look at him and groups whispered together. By the time he was at the square, there was a crowd of people behind him. He supposed it was his sheer charisma, wonderful personality and dashing good-looks.

“Hey mister, what’s that on your head?” A little girl giggled as she pointed up at him. Reaching up he found that he felt feathers, in fact it seemed, that a bird had landed atop him. It wasn’t even a spectacular bird, just a withered old crow that seemed to be carrying a scroll in his mouth. Dropping the scroll to the ground the bird started to peck furiously at Kendall’s head.

“Ow—you horrible pest! Getoff!” muttering oaths as the bird finally gave up his perch, he bent down to pick up the infernal scroll that had caused all this trouble.

“To the citizens of the poor village on the outskirts of the country that I have taken over quite recently:

An act to allow a drawback of the duties ofAn act to allow a drawback of the duties of customs on the exportation of potatoes to any of his Majesty's…blah blah blah…”

Kendall hurriedly read on as he noticed quite a few of his audience yawn,

“And whereas by one other act; to increase the treasury in order to feed the millions of my guests at the estate; and to impower the commissioners of the treasury…yada yada fishsticks… the protective tariff is now 10 kilos of gold dust, and 3 kilos of 22 karat gold per village and/or other items and foodstuffs amounting to above in value. The villages that will not pay the new sum will no longer be protected by the legions. In fact, as I am indeed the villain here, I wish to laugh at thy impertinence for not paying my last tariff! Bwahahaha!

Love,

Your Emperor the Self-Centered and Manaical Tyrant

Erle"

The village was in an uproar. Parents howled about the lack of money to feed their child, children howled about the lack of money to buy toys and the dogs howled.

“How will we ever make ends meet and still have the protection of our Emperor’s Legions?” Came the crowd.

Kendall clenched his hand against his sword. Something had to be done.

-----------------------------------

End of Chapter one. Rate and Review.