How history will remember Week 1

…and so it came to pass, in the miserable year of 2014, the year without a spring in the Empire of the Americas that Silent Stan reviewed his sphere of influence and found it lacking.

He was owner of a troupe of jesters, one of only 32 such throughout the empire, but the one deemed to have the lowest monetary value. This troupe, nicknamed after a large horned rodent performed in a small city in the center of the empire. It was because of this location, Silent Stan thought, that their value was so low. Indeed, there was a city on the Western coast that was currently without a troupe. If he could move his misfits to that location, the aptly named City of Angels, he would vastly increase the wealth of his vagabond company.

For several reasons, some good, some bad, some just stupid, there were certain protocols that needed to be followed when contemplating such a move. First and foremost was to quell any hue and cry to keep the jesters where they were. Having learned at the feet of a witch and seeing first hand how this could be accomplished, Stan was ready to put a dark plan in motion.

He called on the Fisher King, who was in his employ, and shared his plan with him. Now, these 32 groups got together every fall and would hold jestering completions for 16 weeks until the new year (each taking a week off to further bolster the profits of the corporations). A lucky few would continue to compete after the new year, but this was not the norm for Silent Stan’s troupe. The Fisher King had recently hired an old friend, Gregory of Williamston, who had been instructed to teach deep secrets of the jugadors on how to bag opposing jesters at will. Silent Stan told the Fisher King that this was not to be allowed, especially on the very first week when the competition was to be in front of the home crowd. Moreover, he should take no direct action to stop the Shot Hiemer’s choreography. Indeed, the Shot Hiemer should have free reign throughout the competion,

So on the first Sunday of September, a troupe from the Northlands came to compete. Most thought even less of this group than they did the home team, but once the competition started, the home fans were greatly discouraged and dismayed by the low level (lower than normal, even) displayed. By the end of the competition, most were actively booing and holding their noses, as if the virulent performance they just witnessed would assume an odor to match.

Deep in his citadel from which not a sound could escape, Silent Stan smiled a crooked smile. The first movement of the 16 act passion play was complete.