Another foreword, but this time regarding the whole skit - one must not do this regularly for countless reasons, important of which is hiding your tracks and not risking to start from ground up. If one consistently does shady stuff left and right no matter how unpredictable they are - trouble will always follow. Authorities like to think everything is unconnected and its own separate instances of civil unrest, and it should remain that way. Suggestions on how to mitigate shorter raids and sabotages will be presented later, but since this is the first entry - let us start with the basics, shall we?
Chapter I - 'Of Youth & Rascals'
See, the most brightest days of youthful, childish yet severely poor and malnourished folk is the childhood itself; Adulthood bears much pain for the outcast given that the child ever lives to see that period of his or her life. So what do little, pesky beggars do best to enjoy what little life they have? Exactly - they turn to devious antics, rejecting community standards due to lack of parental care and atrocious living conditions. I know, right, common sense. From swarming passing carriages full of provisions, freshly baked bread or any forager's good to outright cornering poor craftsmen in town alleys, on their way to deliver goods to the market - these kids know no fear atop already desperate, last stand choice they have. My pa used to tell me all the time: the shorter you are, the lower your standards. Well, I say today here - the shorter you are, the softer you fall.
Today's lesson is on how to use already existing child labor in favor of your own planned sabotage. You see, these days I have decided to finally take control of the most 'prized jewel' of what used to be the glorious North - the now festering, rotting with corruption town of Bree that is overly reliant on it's guardsmen to ensure their economic disaster is safeguarded. The town is in ruins still to this day, can you imagine? And the Beggar's Alley... Dwarves got their quarter polished, while our own council cannot dedicate to fix the wall, at the least? Nevermind buiilding proper houses so little ones do not have to sleep under rubble. See, the problem of Bree is bigger than just suffering - the problem of Bree is the Bree itself, it has become the embodiment of weakness, on which my lesson will be taught.
I have befriended myself with a group of kids in Combe for, like, three winters already, ever since I first came to these lands. As a 'Big Sister' and the eldest of all, I made sure to take good care of them and share in all the food, shelter and whatever necessities I could provide. I was not a master skitswoman at that time, no; Herbalism was the only craft taught to me back in Rohan, so I made my money with mercenaries and salesmen of all varieties. Out of need for better money, I have apprenticed myself to many notable chemists and herbalists from different criminal conclaves, just to make extra bit on tips. Ah yes, a good tip: if you want to make money off poisons and chemicals - do not do it with human cities, always use the black market of sorts. Even dwarves, from my experience, have value for money, but humans - humans think money is a tool to oppress, not enrich or be enriched. With that, after three winters, I have concluded my studies and delved into social affairs - I started eavesdropping, spying, messaging, infiltrating, integrating and learning how to spread outrageous lies and so on. These are the essentials of being a good indirect combatant. And here I am, with Tommy, Chedwick, Lisabeth and Motley - he heroes of atleast half of this chapter.
In preparation for the main entry, I have instructed the four to wait by the local bakery in North Bree, where the baker is expecting a wagon to come for morning deliveries to the market unless something happens, which always forced the baker to hand deliver his bread himself. Ofcourse the wagon has never come; I have secretly snuck into the stables and cut ropes of fitted horses loose, freeing wagons of any horse power. Ofcourse renting horses off the farm is much more expensive, so a baker would naturally, although with unnatural fury and resentment, try to hand deliver his bread in an already tight schedule. This is where the kids come in - Chedwick, the mightiest of the boys, rushes at the baker first as soon as he carries out his first batch of bread, receiving a push and kick away from the gnarly baker. The shorter you are - the softer you fall, ay. Little does the baker know - this was all a distracting maneuver as the rest of the kids now swarm the distracted baker, grabbing whatever loaves they can before fleeing with no one really being hurt - the brilliancy of small, innocent children. A baker, naturally, wouldn't chase the kids as it was only one batch and the kids are seemingly fleeing, which they are; We intended to get enough bread to feed our little fellowship, not to rob the baker off his day's earnings.
Now that the preparations have been done, we can commence to Staddle; original target of today's unrest is Combe, but Staddle is important: if we put enough doubt about grain deliveries and tax prices into vigilant farmer hobbits of Staddle, then the next day when they hear about unrest in Combe's Saw pits for similar reasons - it will trickle down onto them and start a chain reaction of outskirt industries that provide the town with essential resources. No one is ever happy about taxes - but imagine learning that your product is taxed more? Or that your neighbors' grain is somehow a penny-two more expensive? Hobbits do not take injustice lightly, and neither do Combians. You see, it is even better for me to go to Staddle first as a day before I have delivered a letter to the town's guard about seizing Combe, which prompted an appropriate response - Chedwick has told me that Constable keeps bugging folk with 'how yer day going' and 'any news today' and 'all good today, fella' type jestery, as well as numerous patrols scouting area a bit more often. That means my message reached the ears - but for they are deceived again, as I was giving a ferocious, heartfelt speech to the hobbits of Staddle under pretext of delivering this morning's news. With bread I have acquired earlier, Lisabeth and Tommy were able to rally up more boys and girls as well as their parents with 'generous gifts' which we never purchased. They have come to the rally out of nagging by their children, and attentively listened to what I had to say for I said nothing but what they wanted to hear: I told that the monthly taxes have been raised by three quarters of a penny, while grain has only raised by a quarter. I have informed them for a higher tax on their grain due to oversupply, making the 'Prancing Pony' feel the consequences of raised value barley as well. And I specifically told Ponto Underhill that his earnings off his grain are ten pennies less than that of his competitor's this month, miss Boggs. Ofcourse that had nothing to do with injustice, his deliveries were just respectively shorter than that of miss Boggs - but the deed has already started causing concern. And ofcourse half of those who came were more confused than baffled - for I asserted myself at the gazebo like a towns mayor, who I was not. But it matters not if they took me serious, for it will matter later. Of all the things you need to know in my speech - I have told the farmer folk the problems of farmers and nothing else. I would never bother Staddle about mining or wildlife foraging for they are a farming village. So now that seeds of dismay among farmers of the East have been planted - we move onto Combe and the main spectacle.
Motley hasn't had a shine yet, so here it: A day before I have instructed Motley to cut down ropes holding logs and planks on wagons towards the city, for which I promised him not to send him as fodder at the baker; Little boy was innocently scared, but I have already known at that time that Chedwick volunteered, so the situation was ripe for a little opportunity. In return, I also promised him a one loaf more than the rest of boys - for his vigilant dedication. And he did perfectly - both days he cut a single bundle of ropes off a moving wagon, sending logs and planks scattering and rolling around. These deliveries affected the pay of workers for two consecutive days which they are already aware of, and which I have come to explain to them today. Me, the gorgeous, the most devious and eloquent of all bards in these poetically tragic, desperate for change lands, I came there with vigour in my step and strength in my voice, dramatically unrolling a piece of paper to read to them, "Dear craftsmen. As you are aware, your pays have been cut - the town has deemed you to be more competitive and relies on you to make up the difference." That was my opening statement. From there, I have told them the same problem with raised taxes, which would affect woodworkers even greater - for their pays have been cut. You see, rising pays and decreasing pays all have upsides and downsides. Upsides of increased price is, obviously, a better pay. But industries that use those materials now suffer the consequences, paying more and, subsequently, raising their own prices to make the difference. Decreasing prices means lesser pay, but also means more opportunities with freelance and local industries. And taxes - taxes never help anything, taxes can always be used freely in every context. Low taxes mean the town does not bother about keeping an eye on it, higher taxes mean the town loves to keep its hand in everyone's pocket. The beauty of argument is that you can twist any of the information I provided with little to no consequence - a general citizen does not concern himself with speech and diplomacy, they only concern themselves with themselves, their families and their own craft. And if you make them believe that their own selves, their families and their crafts are under threat - all the merrier, you should go for it.
I have concluded my speech dramatically by rolling the parchment by shredding it into pieces with fury in front of them, proclaiming victoriously,
"I was meant to read this for you, an official document from the administration. But my eyes cannot bear this. And will always refuse to. It is unspeakable, I am sorry you've had to take the hit"
No one could ever read that shredded piece of parchment by the time I was done saying those words, as it was not an official document - a little decoy ive made myself. One could piece that an important information was written there, but by whom? It does not matter, the damage has been done. With some woodworkes stunned, others comforting me after my scene - all that had to be done for the day is done. Now I just had to wait for them to protest and lay their tools down, stagnating a major building sector of Bree-lands.
You see, the economic structure of human cities are not that of hobbits, who are heavily reliant on community services and are not constrained by things such as 'economy'. But humans, ay. Human weakness is over-reliance on some economic order that they use to oppress people, above all. There always has to be a middle-man, there always has to be outrageous competition - whereas hobbits, as merry little men as they are, enjoy their crafts collectively. If we go by this logic then it should make sense why we have planted seeds of dismay in Staddle first and foremost. Hobbits won't take the upcoming protest in Combe lightly, not at all. And on this I conclude the first chapter of this guide. And yes, the protest did happen. By the next morning, as I came to check, only one woodworker was present at the Pit - the rest laid their tools and started making a fuss in the village center, bothering constable greately to assert the rights of fair trade and craftsmanship of Combe to Bree-town. Let us see what can we do next day, ay?
