This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Public Outcry
With a prompt like this, there was only one hero who could star in the story; Marv the Magnificent, gnomish inventor 😁
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
"Catch him !"
"Get 'im !"
"Scrag 'im !"
"Tar and feathers !"
The sound of the baying and remarkably angry mob grew louder behind him as Marv sprinted down Ladylane, the main street of the city of Werchen.
He felt like his heart would explode out of his chest, and his legs felt as if the bones were filled with fire or molten lead. He was a gnome, four feet tall at best. Physical exertion wasn't his thing. Not at all !
But if he was to keep his life, he had to escape these enraged townsfolk. They had longer legs than him, and the strength of righteous anger. The only thing saving him was his own desperation. That and the fact that the leading rank of the mob was continually changing, as the fastest of them had to drop back to scratch frantically at their itching skin.
He rounded the corner into Harbour Street, hoping that if he could get to the docks he might be able to jump aboard a departing ship. Instead, he saw another mob of townsfolk, and screeched in terror as they saw him and broke into a run.
He was trapped !
Just as he thought his days were numbered, a clatter of boots and jingling of metal saved him.
A half-company of the Markguard jogged out of a side passage. Their uniforms were impeccable, the best money could buy; glittering chainmail, gilded nasal helmets, and their surcoats and shields bearing the Arms of Werchen, five industrious golden bees on a field of purple.
Image created in the Worldspinner Heraldry Generator
Two hours later, Marv wondered if being saved by the Markguard had been worth it. He'd been hauled off to the town gaol, where a good kicking had been administered by the burly gaoler. Another man angry about what had happened.
Now, he was being dragged before the Lord High Merchant, the most important person in the city. That role was currently held by Lady Prisandra Gluck.
Marv's first impression of Lady Prisandra was that of a hard-faced matriarch. In her younger years she must have been strikingly handsome rather than conventionally pretty. Now, she was maybe in her late forties, worn down by years of making tough bargains and harder decisions. Her face was sharp, with an intelligent and unforgiving expression.
The impression was somewhat spoiled by her current appearance. Despite the autumnal chill, she'd stripped down to her stays and underskirts, and was rapidly dabbing her skin with a flannel soaked with soothing lotion.
Fixing Marv with a glare, she snapped. "Well gnome, what do you have to say for yourself ? How can you possibly justify what you have done, you vile little creature ?"
Marv drew himself up to his full not very imposing four feet tall, pulling his battered red top hat into what he hoped was an insouciant angle, which might also help to hide the black eye he was sporting.
"My Lady," he began with a carefully calculated tone of injured pride, "I am not just some mere gnome, a passing tinker or mechanic. I am Marv the Magnificent, inventor supreme, creator of that wonder of the waves the Dolphin, the genius behind Filrath's fearsome new siege weapon the barocker, the only chemist alive who knows the secret formula for Snail Oil."
Continuing on, Marv didn't pause for breath, and made very sure there was no gap in his speech to allow any interruption.
"I am sure this is all just down to some misunderstanding. Indeed, it is quite likely nothing to do with me at all ! Your colleague Lord Sans-Espere commissioned me to do something about the taste of the water, so if anyone is to be blamed it is him. You must be aware of the poor reputation of Werchen's drinking water; emanating from the volcanoes of the Carach Mountains it has a terrible sulphurous taste even if it is reputed to have healing properties."
Lady Prisandra tilted her head slightly as he went on with his monologue. She was fully aware of the taste of the town's water. Actually she rather liked it and was proud of it's uniqueness, even if others didn't appreciate it.
"So, Marv-the-self-styled-Magnificent, what did Lord Sans-Espere ask you to do, and how much did he pay you ?"
Marv shuddered at the mention of money.
"My Lady, he promised me five hundred Golden Shillings if I could make the water run pure for a year. But he hadn't paid me, so I had to fund the project out of my own very meagre resources. I would have preferred to source local chemicals to achieve the desired purity. But budgetary constraints forced me to buy the materials I needed from further afield."
She looked sternly at him before waving over at one of the Markguard. The man was clearly in discomfort, squirming slightly as he stood to attention.
"Is this what you bought ?" she indicated for the guard to lift a large sheet of canvas from the object he was stood beside.
Beneath it was a large wooden crate. A plain white label a foot square pasted onto it's side stated in bold lettering 'Patent Magoran Water Purification Formula'.
Then Lady Prisandra strode up to the crate and pulled at a loose edge on the label. It came away easily, to reveal an older, smaller label beneath. This one read 'Acme Water-Dispersed Itching Powder. Supplied courtesy of Merielle of Magoran'
She looked at Marv for a long time, before saying flatly, "Your greed and stupidity led to you being conned. It gave my greatest trade rival an opportunity to embarrass Werchen before the whole world. You've caused a huge public outcry. Expect to spend a long time in gaol while I work out an appropriately amusing punishment for you."