NARRATOR: [fire crackling] Shockhouse was slumped in his chair, watching the fire softly crackling. [writing sounds come in] Slightly drunk he braved a question to his advisor who was vigilantly writing out a letter. The Lord didn’t even know who she wrote to under his name, he didn’t care.
SHOCKHOUSE: Am I a ruthless man?
NARRATOR: [writing stops suddenly] His adviser stopped writing, staring at Shockhouse.
ADVISOR: Why do you ask my lord?
SHOCKHOUSE: I don’t know…
ADVISOR: Well I think you’re a kind man, my lord.
SHOCKHOUSE: Is that so?
NARRATOR: [wooden chair slide] The advisor got up from her chair, [sliding cloth] her green robes puffing across the floor. She kneeled behind his chair adjusting her mask before going over to his side. Grabbing his aged hands she softened her voice before asking.
ADVISOR: (softly) You haven’t been speaking to that heretic have you? The one that claims those awful things about your realm?
SHOCKHOUSE: No, no. It’s not a question anyone asked me.
NARRATOR: Like scolding a dog she curtly responded.
ADVISOR: (quick and stern) Then where did you hear such things?
SHOCKHOUSE: Many years ago my father said that there were no such things as good men. Every day I think about his words. Why do I deserve all these good things? Don’t only good men deserve such things?
ADVISOR: You earned it my lord! Diligent work in your realm brought you these good things. Your good law, your good control, that’s what earned you these things.
SHOCKHOUSE: What good things? I look back and all I see is resentment. Resentment from my peasants, my kids, and before Sheila died, even _her… _What did I do to get those looks of _piercing _anger? All I’ve ever done is serve them!
ADVISOR: My lord, remember, your heart.
NARRATOR: Shockhouse waved away her concerns. The advisor saw the fear on his face still despite him trying to hide it. She knew it wasn’t the ramblings of a drunk man anymore. Carefully she told him.
ADVISOR: You are a good man, good men often aren’t loved. Could you count how many times you had to deny your children, your wife, your time, all for the realm? How much _sacrifice _have you given to your family? Perhaps they should be grateful for you instead of looking at your absences. Maybe the peasants should relearn respect for your guiding hands? Without you we would have been conquered, and enslaved by harsh men.
SHOCKHOUSE: And all the hangings? The beatings I’ve ordered? How many peasant revolutions I have put down in evil manners.
ADVISOR: Evils, yes, needed evils. If we let lawless beasts rule the realm we wouldn’t even have wood for a fire. You did what was right in wrong circumstances.
SHOCKHOUSE: [pain whisper] What was the use of that evil? I have no heirs, I am a ghost in my own realm. My court no longer respects me, the only time I hear my name is in whispers.
ADVISOR: They are fools then.
SHOCKHOUSE: A court full of fools? What does that make me?
ADVISOR: A wise man.
NARRATOR: [whoosh] Shockhouse looked back at the fire. [flame burst and crackle]
SHOCKHOUSE: You’re my only friend in the realm, the only kind person in my decline. Thank you, dear advisor.
ADVISOR: Your welcome lord. Once I finish my letter we shall enjoy some ice cream. Maybe I can play some piano as well.
SHOCKHOUSE: (dissmissivly) That would be nice.
NARRATOR: The advisor squeezed Shockhouses hand before going back to her letter. [advisor steps away and writing begins again] “On the day of Lord Shockhouse’s death I shall use my power as control of the estate to choose you as the new lord of this realm, of course once the payment safely arrives that is. Do be warned the old bastard seems to be ready to die at any moment so be sure not to knock up any whores in that time. The last thing the realm would need is more heirs.”