"Steady on there," a voice rises from the crowd. "Your Duke should be ashamed!"
There's great consternation in the crowd to hear such rebellious talk. You turn to see the curly-haired woman who spoke some moments ago stepping forward with an aspect of high righteousness.
"He raises up the hopes of his less fortunate countryfolk with this search for rare talents, and the promise of luxurious accommodations and fine foods and great prestige to the lucky few chosen. But he does not mention that the life of a courtly performer is valued no different from the exotic beasts captured from jungles or sandy climes to amuse His Grace and the other drunken dilettantes in his orbit!"
Good Lord, you think, startled at the brashness of the youth's talk. But you can see that as the firebrand goes on, there's a good bit of nodding and irate chatter from the knot of disappointed peasants. Even the poor maligned farmhand seems swayed.
Onward