A part of you wants to do nothing and be done with this. It is not the Empire's policy to reprimand parents for the foolish, but harmless, actions of their children. Expressions of dissatisfaction with Imperial policy can be tolerated, and productive expressions of such by the citizenry are cherished by the Divider Lords for the discourse they bring. A stone thrown by a young boy's arm is not a sword in the hands of the enemy. If anything, overreacting to such a childish slight is a weapon for the enemy to wield, and you are not in the habit of arming your foes.

Yet all the same...

"There are plans for a branch of the Imperial Schola to be opened in Brightsprings," you inform the boy's parents. The two of them look at one another, uncertain of what you mean until you finish the thought. "I look forward to your son's attendance, when its first semester begins. It would be a good opportunity for him - and all the children of the region, truly - to master his letters, numbers, rhetoric..."

The father pauses for a moment. He catches your meaning more than his wife, and from the lemon-sucking look on his face, he cares for it no more than he can oppose you on it. Still, he has to try wiggling out of it. "As great an opportunity as it might be, are you sure it's not wasted upon us? We're simple farming folk, and-"

"-should be afforded every opportunity to excel," you say, cutting off his argument. His wife nods vigorously, and it's quickly clear to him that he's lost the argument before it really began. "Whether that's making your lands more productive through what he learns, or finding himself a stable position in the Empire's bureaucracy. In truth, I hope to see as many children from the lands surrounding Brightsprings enrolled as we can."

Left unsaid is the why.

Schooling is an excellent way to rid the next generation of their parents' foolishness.

The husband understands that. The wife sees the carrot but pays no mind to the stick, and with how easily her man folds to her whims here... they're not fundamentalists. They'd rather see their sons and daughters live long, happy, and prosperous lives than have them die so stupidly as their foolish neighbors who threw themselves at you and your men in their pathetic rebellion.

Once their son is down in the books for attendance at the Schola, you march off with your procession. Leaving behind a concerned father, an ecstatic mother, and two very confused - and somewhat relieved - children.

Unfortunately, a child throwing rocks at you is not the worst thing you encounter on your trip east.

"Fee, Fi, Fum, For"
"I've caught the scent of an Empire whore."
"Fo, Fu, Fee, Fay"
"How many more more will I break today?"
"Fum, Fee, Fay, Frij"
"A harlot knight seeks to cross my bridge..."
"Fum, Fo, Fi, Fee"
"But with what coin will she pay me?"