It had been hours. The Mayor sat on her soap box, shot gun in her lap, squinting at the sun setting over the mountains and listening with half an ear to the argument going on in front of her. Behind her, the carpenter and his assistants were putting the finishing touches on a gallows. They would have to make a decision soon. Hopefully it would be the right one.

“And THAT,” the old man shouted, waving his cane furiously, “Is why we need to lynch that SHEPHERD! Spending that much time with sheep ain’t natural!”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

“Just shut up, pleaaaase,” someone groaned. “We all heard you the first hundred times!”

“Everyone’s already stated they’re not Mafia!”

“Listen, listen! If we just apply the laws of probability –“

It was a soft laugh, but it managed draw everyone’s attention anyway. The clamor quieted, a first for the day. All eyes turned to the back of the crowd where a boy - nearly a man – stood with a stupid grin on his face. The Mayor picked up her gun and stood.

“What are you laughing at, Bert?” A young man in black asked, coldly. Everyone always forgot about Bert, until they were faced to face with him. At that point, it was hard to ignore that uncanny smile and wild eyes.

“You,” he said, stuffing a fist in his mouth to choke back a burst of laughter. “Why is everyone so mad today?" He barked another laugh, which was greeted by angry silence.

“He’s as wacky as his mother was,” a farmer muttered, tightening his grip on his pitchfork.

“Hattie was not insane!” A short dark-haired woman in plain clothes took a step forward and put a protective hand on Bert’s shoulder. “My sister was very ill,” she said, her face red. “And you leave this poor boy alone, he hasn’t done anything to you!”

“No, he certainly hasn’t done anything useful!” An older woman yelled from the back of the crowd. There was a murmur of agreement from the assembly.

“What are you saying?” The dark-haired woman took another step forward, hands bunched into fists. “You good for nothing old - ”

“But I DID do something!” Bert shouted, pulling an enormous bloodstained knife out from under his shirt with all the air of a child eager to please. Screams erupted, nearby persons either trying to desperately get away or tackle the boy. Someone wrestled the knife away from Bert, and three other men grabbed him – not that he had tried to run at all. He just stood there, manic smile on his face.

“Well then,” said Mayor Dark somberly. “It appears we have reached a decision.” The dark-haired woman looked sick, but said nothing.

Bert began to laugh again. “The Mafia are gonna get you … we’re gonna get you all …”

Day 1 has ended with the Lynch of Bergioyn. Night Actions are due in to me by 11:59 EST on Sunday.