ROBIN HOOD

Cindy sat nervously in the corner of the stage, her frozen limbs slowly thawing in the warmth of the fire. This was a special performance dedicated to Lord Lakovy. All the attendees were wealthy, with one exception—her. Cindy cautiously peeked out from behind the curtains and saw Lord Lakovy sitting in the very center of the front row. His fingers gently caressed the exquisitely crafted golden brooch on his chest. She instinctively withdrew. The theater dimmed unnoticed. A young man stepped into the center of the stage, a spotlight suddenly shining down on him. He doffed his hat, offering an exaggerated bow to the audience, and the curtains began to part slowly. The performance had officially begun.

Cindy should have been on her way back home with the pay for her errands, perhaps picking up a couple of loaves of black rye bread. However, the steward had no time to see her. He was too preoccupied with preparations for the master's event. But Cindy already knew that even without this excuse, Lord Lakovy would find other reasons to withhold her wages. He never cared whether his workers had food in their bellies. He only cared if his coffers grew fatter that day. But she couldn't wait until tomorrow. In this frigid weather, her grandmother, lying in bed, would not survive the night. This town, near the frontier, had a small population but vast farmlands. Once self-sufficient, everything changed with Lord Lakovy's arrival. Initially, he hired many farmhands to build his manor, keeping townspeople busy while quietly taking control of the surrounding lands. With less homegrown food, people had to work for Lakovy to eat. Soon, he controlled most of the grain, driving prices high and wages low. Eventually, everyone was too drained to resist. In the play, the youth climbed a tree branch to survey and rally his comrades. Hiding behind a tree by the forest road, he expertly shot arrows, puncturing grain sacks on passing carriages. Outlaws swiftly gathered and shared the spilled grains with the poor. It was the tale of a heroic outlaw in Sherwood Forest, aiding the oppressed to gain freedom by toppling exploitative nobles and landlords to return their ill-gotten wealth to the common people. Cindy observed, entranced, yearning for a hero like him to help the people here. She wouldn't have needed to stand outside trembling, waiting for Lord Lakovy to come out after the show. If she hadn't encountered the lead actor coming in, she might have succumbed to the freezing winds. The young man had listened patiently as Cindy told her story. Unfortunately, Cindy couldn't make out his face, hidden beneath the brim of his lowered hat. But more than his looks, she remembered the green cloak he took off and draped around her shoulders, along with his kind words. "Things will get better for you," the young man said. "How about you stay and watch the show?"

The Megamouth Shark Troupe, a renowned resident theater company in Oakenfell, consistently had sold-out shows. Cindy yearned to see them, but they never toured small towns like this. In fact, if someone claimed to be the Megamouth Shark Troupe, no one here would know the difference. But this time, to curry favor with Lord Lakovy, someone had specially invited the Megamouth Shark Troupe to perform here. The show was superb, earning thunderous applause. The youth displayed impeccable crossbow skills, never missing a shot. He even split an arrow down the middle, striking a second already in the bullseye. Lord Lakovy stroked his brooch, his expression darkening with discontent. As the young man condemned the villainous nobles, Lakovy's face nearly matched the color of the actor's hat. In the performance, just as the actor was passing judgment on the nobles, he was struck from behind. A nobleman's guard, feigning injury, delivered a "deadly blow" when the actor turned his back. Cindy gasped and covered her mouth. But Lord Lakovy leaped up, loudly cheering the "shameless thief's demise". Scattered, hesitant applause followed from the crowd. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past Lakovy's head, pinning his wig to the tent wall. Though the actor had "fallen", he told his comrades to bury him under the cypress tree where the arrow had dropped. Through that tree, which leads to the underworld, he would return when injustice again ran rampant in the land. As the actor spoke his final line, the stage lights dimmed, and the curtains fell. Lord Lakovy grunted and resumed his seat, begrudgingly satisfied with the ending. These so-called outlaws were just poor thieves who couldn't survive otherwise. Their deaths served justice and order, as they should. Thinking this, Lakovy forgave the "farce" of a play. Twirling his mustache, he hummed a smug tune and unconsciously reached for his brooch. In the darkness, an enraged roar shattered the silence: "Where is my brooch?!"

A carriage that was racing raced to a street corner several kilometers from the theater and came to a halt. The young man lifted Cindy down, handing her a heavy little sack that was filled to the brim with gold. A second carriage loaded with gold and grain rounded the corner. Cindy recognized it was coming from Lakovy's manor. "Run along now and put that money somewhere safe. Don't stop until you get there." The young man gave Cindy's shoulder a gentle push, and she took off running home. Glancing back, she saw him tossing something up and down as he climbed into his carriage - the intricately crafted golden brooch glinting blindingly in the sunlight. "Will I see you again?" Cindy called out eagerly. The young man laughed softly. He tossed the golden brooch into the pile of grain, pulled down his hat brim, and the carriage wheels began turning. "As long as greed and injustice remain, I won't be far away."

"He will risk everything for the sake of justice. That is Robin Hood." —Arthur

"If you're willing to toil for justice, then we're allies! Take this gift. Don't worry, our allowances are covered."