"My Lord," (Patreon)

Petunia piped up.  "No one will dispute that the depraved charlatan Reverend O'Hoppity needs to be 'taken down,' as you so aptly put it, but how exactly do you plan to do this?"

"Simple," I explained.  "We spread the word and make his disgusting predilections public knowledge."

"Will the public listen?" Gretchen asked.  "Do we have any physical evidence to show them?"

"Do we need any?" I retorted.  "If the mob was so easily persuaded to go through with this preposterous witch trial, it shouldn't take much to make them believe this.  Especially since this is actually true."

"I beg your pardon, my Lord," Chloe interjected, "but I think you place too much value on truth.  The credibility of an accusation has less to do with what's being alleged and more to do with who is saying it.  No one took Didelphis's claims seriously until the Parson got involved."

"Hmmm," I murmured as I tried to comprehend the intricacies of lowfolk interaction.  How did they ever get anything done when it was impossible to trust each other?  "The evidence will need to be irrefutable, and we'll have to produce it with a dramatic reveal.  Ixie, I assume there is evidence?"

"We saw him in the act," the Ixie reported with a shudder.  "Oh how the sight of it will forever haunt me!  He storeth his supplies and a journal of horrendous shadowy exploits in his home, but we spied him performing his private puppet show in the back of the church."

"WHAT??" Rebecca blurted.  "Sacrilege!  That pompous, lying, heretical hypocrite was acting out his depraved fantasies on holy ground??"

"Calm yourself," I exclaimed.  "We'll get him.  He will have to face Fuma's justice in the end."

"Can I go gut him now?" Burnside asked eagerly.  "After learnin' this, I reckon you gotta let me."

I shushed Burnside as another Ixie flew up and saluted.

"Our mission has been successful," she reported.  "We found several bottles of booze and doused the unconscious rabbits according to thy orders."

"Excellent!" I chuckled.

"We also took care to make it look like the rabbits were responsible for stealing the booze."

"Good thinking!" I nodded.

"And we arranged all the rabbits in compromising positions that will certainly not be socially acceptable in Bunkirk."

"Uh, okay," I blinked.

"And we put one of them in a dress."

"Why?"

"It seemed like a good idea,"  she shrugged.  "Twas not easy to do, but surely it will make them all look bad in the eyes of the search party that findeth them."

Another Ixie flitted up and gave a salute.  They were being so professional!  I suppressed a grin and ordered the new arrival to give her report.

"Ash Marten is ready to speak, but he is not happy," she stated succinctly.

I picked up the original Mumble-Mug and pulled the string taut.  "Hello?"

"My liege," Ash greeted me sarcastically.  "You know, I can certainly empathize with your desire to be the primary driving force behind your own rise to power, but the first thing I saw when I got back from my mission - setting up contacts and training story tellers, if you recall - the first thing I saw was an angry mob clamoring for a witch trial, under circumstances that clearly betray your involvement.  This does not inspire confidence."

"The child Didelphis is actually the old crone Didelphis transmogrified," I explained.

"That much is obvious," Ash retorted.  "What puzzles me is why she was reportedly living with Oonagh."

"She sassed me at the coven meeting," I elaborated.  "I thought it would be a fitting (as well as funny) punishment to turn her into a child and have her adopted by her arch enemy."

"If you ever make it onto the throne," Ash remarked after a pause, "I believe you may be an extremely interesting Emperor.  Be sure to write down your thought processes.  Future historians will want to study them."

"You think so?" I quipped, trying to stay cool but actually feeling a little flattered.

"I have a lot to do here," Ash sighed.  "There isn't time for chit-chat.  I assume you have an interest in the outcome of the trial."

"I need for Oonagh to be exonerated, and Didelphis spared too, if possible."

"That's a tall order," he muttered.  "I might be able to get the accused acquitted, since she is in fact innocent ... but this mob wants blood."

"We have an ace in the hole," I whispered.  "The main accuser, Reverend O'Hoppity of Bunkirk, is a secret devotee of ... shadow puppetry."

I expected Ash to gasp, but instead it was I who gasped when he said, "I know."

"You know?"

"Who do you think introduced the Parson to that disreputable hobby?"

I stood there, dumbfounded, and after an uncomfortably long silence, Ash continued.

"This is what's called 'leverage' in my line of work.  If you can corrupt a prominent citizen, then you have power over him."

"And now we expose him to win the trial!" I exclaimed.

"We do nothing of the sort," Ash scolded.  "O'Hoppity is a valuable resource I've spent years cultivating, and I'll not throw him away on something as trivial as this.  No, we use our knowledge and the threat of exposure to manipulate him, and we do it in a way that ensures he will continue to be useful to us in the future."

"That's blackmail!" I declared.

"Good, you're learning some of the terminology," Ash chuckled.

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