A letter in an envelope addressed to "The Judge of the trial of Ta'lissa the day before yesterday"
To whom it may concern,
I was present two days ago at a trial where you made an interesting claim, that the guards of Crimson Spire were held to a higher standard. I was struck immediately by two thoughts -- first, that in every other way you appeared reasonable and honest, and second, that this view differs so strongly from the view from the street that I felt compelled to write this letter. I hope that it reaches you; I have had great difficulty even in finding out to whom it should properly be addressed.
It may even be true that most of the Crimson Watch are honestly trying to do the best job they can. The times when the watch shows up to investigate a crime, gathers their evidence, and then later locates and arrests a miscreant are not always visible to the public. When a guard shows up and is abusive or violent, or shows up late or not at all with tragic consequences, people remember. Here, it helps little that many of the guard uphold a higher standard, if enough others do not, and that is what has often happened. It is a disconcerting thing to have a child tell you frankly that they trust a member of the thieves guild more than they trust the guard, and disturbing to hear tavern conversations turn to fearful stillness when the crimson uniforms appear, a fear left over, perhaps, from the recent massacre.
If this mistrust continues to be fed by the actions of that portion of the guard that do not uphold that higher standard, additional incidents of citizens taking the law into their own hands, or worse, turning to the underside of the city for protection, will be inevitable. It is my hope that this letter will stir those that see the world from a higher place to pay closer attention to what happens at the bottom, and make the city a safer place to live.
(signed)
A concerned, but hopeful, citizen.
Copyright © 2004-2005 by Zed Pobre. All rights reserved. This text is NOT available under a Creative Commons license.
