You quietly open your window and lean your musket out, pointed down to the crowd. A quick report cuts through the noise outside, and everyone is frozen for a second. The echoing crack is the only sound.
A man staggers back, clutching his abdomen, and falls to the ground, and it's like a spell is broken. Most people turn and run in every direction.
"You have not heard the last of Guyot!" the woman at the head of the crowd shouts, before being swept along by the mass.
With that handled, you decide you ought to pay the intendant a visit. You set off down the highway.
Eventually, you reach the intendant's mansion on the edge of town. It is a three-story building surrounded by a wall of brilliant white masonry topped by wrought iron spikes. The path to the mansion lies behind an imposing gate of black iron bars.
A gruff voice calls out, "What's this?" You can just see the outline of armed guards in the gloom behind the gate.
Now, the matter of getting in to see the intendant.