An Audience with the Governor.

[Cinnabar]

The main public areas of the Meetinghouse are for the most part complete, reconstruction of the general structure having finished a week or two ago. Government staff have yet to move from the interim offices next door to the Yard, and there is still the sound of hammering and sawing and the ring of hammers on chisels from elsewhere in the building, but for today the areas that the public will see have been tidied up and made presentable, wood shavings swept away and surfaces wiped clean of masonry dust. The money pledged towards the Meetinghouse's reconstruction has been well-spent, with elegant columns and arches above tiled floors doing well to emphasise the gravitas and dignity of Myrken's Government; visitors are reassured of the Government's steadfastness by sturdy stonework and dark wooden panelling, what ornamentation there is tending towards being well-crafted and pleasing rather than bombastic gaudiness.

The Governor's forum takes place a side-chamber of the Meetinghouse, a council room of some sort, summer sunlight spilling in through tall windows along one side. Rows of chairs are set out in a loose semicircle around a wooden lectern, and an aisle down the centre of the room. Space enough for a few dozen people, maybe more if they don't mind standing and crowding around the edges of the seating area.

A few minutes before the appointed hour officers of the Constabulary begin ushering people through, should any particularly keen souls have decided to queue in advance. Security is discreet but vigilant, but there is no discrimination made on grounds of social standing - as long as the visitors conduct themselves in a civilised manner, the Constables seem content to let them enter as they will.

Calomel himself waits near the door, offering each arrival a smile and a few polite words of greeting as they enter, a welcoming handshake or incline of his head. The Governor is neatly-attired in shades of black and wine-red - a frock coat and breeches of light cloth, a silk doublet and shirt of pale linen, every inch the efficient, competent public servant.

"Good morning, good morning. Please, take a seat - we'll begin shortly, once everyone's settled."

[Treadwell]

Gravitas and dignity.

These are two things that Aloisius Treadwell has been reminded about, in these words and others, on his way to Myrken's Meetinghouse with his wife, Alice, beside him.

"The people need to see someone who isn't just a fat belly looking to stuff himself with free refreshments, Aloisius. Promise that you'll be on your very best behavior, dearest?"

To which Alice only gets a nod and a grunted, "Mmph mmph," in return.

Today, the two Treadwells match rather well, wearing clothes of the same shade of dark green: he in a suit and top hat, she in a dress lovingly crafted to fit her growing frame. If there is one minor concern of their collective appearance, it is that Treadwell is already quite visibly stuffed with breakfast, nearly swollen out to match his beloved, seven months pregnant wife. It seems that, at least for now, the refreshments will be quite safe. Surely the man can't eat too much more? Maybe he won't even have to touch the food!

After they wobble slowly into the building, arm in arm, with the Councilor's cane aiding his usually ponderous limping, they take a pair of sturdy, stout-looking seats off to one side, there to settle in and rest to listen patiently to what Governor Calomel has to say.

[Malaroth]

The grim Grand Master knight took in the repaired meetinghouse with a curious eye, an eye that occasionally hesitated a moment upon this face or that. Spying the portly form of Councilor Treadwell had been a simple enough matter, and for those constables who serve to direct the flow of traffic inside there is a civil nod.

Bereft of his spurs, his dark boots are indiscernible from any other's steps, which suits him well enough despite the fact that his uniform blacks, slacks and shirt crested with a short, squared collar topped by a deep azure tabard that proudly displays the slanted shepherd's crook in silver all identify him swiftly as a member of the knighthood. His dour expression, given to an ashen lingering along the hollow of his jaw and beneath cerulean eyes, and head topped by a length of silver-gold hair pulled back into a loose tail, identifies him as the order's Grand Master.

That perpetually narrowed gaze drifts outside, through the sun struck windows in contemplation, as he picks his way with a quiet grace towards the rear of the audience chamber. There he is content to stand, allowing others to fill out the seats. For his part, he is content to watch and to study.

To study very closely indeed.

[Wendy]

As interested parties are given access to the meeting place, Cambree Calomel perfects an arrangement. The table stands at one side of the room, set away from what will be the congress of conversation. Simple foods, easy to be picked up by fingers, water and warm teas will be made available to those that gather. Decorative touches are added to complete the display while the governor greets those that arrive.

The Treadwells draw Cambree's attention for a time, and there is tension in the teahouse madame's shoulders as they sit. Relief floods once she sees that the chairs will support the weight. A smile is offered to them before her attention is refocused on refreshments. The councilor, now present with his wife, has the madame wondering whether they've brought in enough snacks for everyone.

No time for worry lines to cross her brow, Cambree gives that table a last look and decides it best to find a seat before all are taken. Something near to that table will work so she can be aware of what needs refilling.

Her clothing reflects that she will rather blend in today than stand out. A black skirt to meet the floor will hide her feet. A comfortable cream-colored blouse is tucked in, but the omission of an outer corset may appear strange for those that are used to seeing her at work in the tea room. Her dark, auburn hair is nicely kept in an attractive single-braid style.

Care is taken to sit only when there is no one coming through the door, as she will otherwise be waving or smiling or saying hello - much like she does for the incoming Knight when he enters. Meanwhile, it remains clear that she has chosen a seat by settling a light cloak over its back.

[Cinnabar]

As the bells of the Chapel of St Iona toll the hour he excuses himself from his place by the door and steps along the aisle to take his place behind the lectern. A brief perusal of whatever papers or notes rest there, he clears his throat and looks up to those gathered. A number of familiar faces here and there, and there's a moment's brief speculation as to how many of them are here to raise specific questions, and how many are simply here to spectate.

Well, whatever the answer, it's time to begin. When he speaks his voice is clear and confident, pitched to reach those standing near the back of the room without being too strident for those seated at the front. His hands rest at the edges of the lectern, and his gaze moves unhurriedly across the faces of his audience, holding a gaze here or there for the span of a few words before moving on; making contact, addressing them personally, gauging expressions and postures and reactions as he speaks.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Myrken Wood, thank you for being here this morning. I understand that this is perhaps an unconventional sort of meeting, but if successful it might well become a more regular fixture. At the moment it remains something of an experiment, and it is my hope that it will be beneficial to all of us - as a chance for me to learn which concerns are foremost in your hearts, and for you to gain some insight into the steps my fellow Councillors and I are taking to resolve them." A glance and a nod for Councillor Treadwell before he looks back to the others.

"As such, the general direction of discussion rests in your hands. No doubt many of you have issues you wish to raise, and I will endeavour to address them. If it happens that I do not have the necessary information immediately at hand then you are welcome to give your details to the clerk at the door on the way out, and I shall do what I can to answer your query as soon as possible." A tilt of his head towards the back of the room, where a neatly-dressed scribe offers a brief bow to any who look round.

"Do note that you are welcome to leave at any time - hopefully once your point has been addressed, of course. This is an open forum, and more people will be allowed in as space becomes available. If you desire refreshments then feel free to help yourselves, but please be considerate of others." He very skillfully does not look to the Treadwells at this, which is quite the feat of self-control. Instead there's a smile for his wife who keeps watch over the drinks and dainties, some subtle communication in that glance before he looks back to his notes for a moment. A nod indicates that he has apparently covered those points he wished to make in his introduction, so his attention returns to the gathered crowd, seated and standing around the edges of the room.

"If you'd do me the courtesy of raising your hand if you have a question and waiting until I pick you out, that will help things go smoothly - I'll do what I can to ensure that everyone who wants to gets a chance to speak. If you'd give your name when you get picked then that'd be appreciated as well." A reassuring smile, and a deep breath.

"So - any questions?"

[Khalika]

The Gypsy entered during the Tail end of the Govenors introduction. She was pulled on weather she cared to be here or not, but as two specific, posting passed her desk she felt it in her best interest. Not that she has any love for the Govenor, though on the same token, she has no true dislike for him either. Perhaps in the end she knows what it means to have ones name tarnished without full proof. Or perhaps it is simply a case of the Devil you know...You know?

As it is she slips in lingering somewhat near the door, breif words spoken to a few of the constables she is on good terms with. Though she is more interested in who is in attendance more then what is said. The posts she had read dealt with things of policy and Govenment were not written with a gentile hand, though the Author did seem to have someones ear. For even the smear speculation held evidence of some basic nature, and not the kind which is gathered from word of mouth...

She held information as well....Such that was gathered in a way that was not entire legal, of course the poor fellow who spilled what he knew. Will probablly live...

[Wendy]

The table's hostess shows her smile to those that would follow the governor's gaze toward her. Hopefully, support communicated by the look in her eyes has reached Cinnabar before she becomes too busy pouring cups of tea and water for his guests.

She is there of her own volition, caring to provide a small comfort to those that have made this morning's meeting a priority. There are smiles that reach the eyes as she delivers filled cups into waiting hands and watches after those that are taking tidbits for themselves. A variety of fresh fruits and cheeses, sweet rolls and slices of spiced cake are displayed on tiers and platters amongst pristine doilies.

Cinnabar's opening the floor for questions before she is able to check him with another look, not half expecting him to notice as there is bound to be discussion by the people - and that is why he's here. However, she catches the sleeve of a passing friend and asks him to deliver a cup to the governor, then resumes her volunteer work quietly.

[Dhugal]

A pair of robed figures step inside shortly after the Governor begins speaking.
Fidelius and Matthias slip into a pair of seats at the back of the room and
wait to see who will be first to raise an issue or ask a question of Cinnabar
Calomel.

[Dulcie]

The young barmaid slips into the meeting house in the middle of the governor's speech, taking up a seat close to the door so as not to disturb too many people. She would look a little embarassed by walking in during the middle like that, but she had never been that good with exact times after all. She had come dressed in new clothing today, a newly sewn tan kirtle dress laced over a cream colored chemise. Careful care had been taken with her hair, having french braided it down her back to hide the chunk of hair that still was awkwardly cut short from the days when she was held hostage. Her hazel eyes flit briefly over the others in the room, curious if there were going to be any questions actually asked of the Governor.

[Cinnabar]

An expectant pause on the Governor's part, gaze roving the gathered citizenry in case any hands should rise for his attention. After a time, though, it becomes apparent that no questions are yet forthcoming. His brows raise in curiosity at this, and after a few moments more he speaks again.

"Hm. No questions as yet? Very well." A glance to his notes, a brief shuffling of papers before he looks up again.

"Perhaps if I were to offer a brief report on various government issues it might give a few avenues for discussion." An understanding smile at that, and a moment to gather his thoughts.

"The bolstering of Myrken Wood's military is proceeding apace, with the New Myrken Army approaching full strength; the response to the call for recruits has been enthusiastic, and it is heartening - though hardly surprising, given the resilience and determination of Myrken's citizens - to see that so many are willing to step forward in defence of their homes. Likewise the process of rebuilding the Militia is well under way - public response has once again been most encouraging. Arms and equipment have been issued to the first wave of volunteers, a program of regular weapons drill is in place, and a number of joint exercises involving the Army and the Militia are planned for the near future."

"It is our intent for the two branches of Myrken's defence forces to be well-integrated and accustomed to working alongside one another; while the Army will have the martial prowess of a corps of dedicated soldiers, the Militia will serve as a competent and well-disciplined force that will add weight of numbers to military actions, allowing us to respond swiftly and effectively to any military threat within Myrken's borders by drawing upon local forces to support a smaller number of Army personnel where necessary. I am confident that once the revised command structure is fully in place the Militia will prove to be strong and steadfast defenders of Myrken and her people. The will be fully capable of mustering an immediate response on a local level, and raising the alarm to draw support from further afield should that prove necessary. Plans are also in development to establish a number of fortified outposts throughout Myrken Wood which will provide our troops with secure garrisons from which to operate."

Another glance for his notes, and a brief sweep of the crowd in case his report on the state of Myrken's military has sparked any questions among his audience.

[Malaroth]

There were times to observe and to study. There were times to sit quietly and merely be aware of one's environment, to watch as teachers and tutors worked their craft for the betterment of young minds. Now however, in the interesting silence that seemed to have settled upon the small assemblage of Myrkenfolk, did not seem to be just such a time.

Malaroth waited patiently as he listened to Calomel's plans for the military and militia for the second time before calmly raising his pale hand, coarsened by swords and steel, lengthy fingers mildly parted and his arm bent at the elbow. Considering his past with the Governor, he wondered how long he might be asked to wait before being granted time to speak. Then again, he did not think the Governor to be such a petty figure.

Domineering and tyrannical, narrow-minded most certainly, but, to be fair, not petty.

For his part, he was content to wait to be called upon.

[Cinnabar]

Ah, here we are, a hand raised among the audience; perhaps the initial silence was more a matter of not knowing where to begin, rather than an actual lack of concerns to be discussed. As he notes precisely who has something to ask, though, there's a smile that lingers on the border between polite and wry, some silent preparation for sidelong accusations and veiled recriminations. So be it.

A nod to the knight, then, features settling into an expression of polite receptiveness. Maybe having an audience will make it easier for the Grand Master to discuss matters in a more reasonable manner than their last meeting.

"Sir Malaroth Deucalios, good morning. You have a question?"

[Malaroth]

A hand slips casually to join the other, both working together to unfold some parcel of parchment as he nods a polite greeting in return. There were lines drawn between these two men, cold and hard, and there was simply no need to revisit certain controversies since they both knew where they stood, neither willing to move. It was with a very calm demeanor, therefore, that he stands forward from the wall in the back and clears his throat.

"Governor," he began while finishing his work with unfolding one of the many posters recently plastered across town. "To get to the point, I believe that these are the primary reasons why we are here." At this he raised the flyer and waved it, momentarily, with a thoughtful smirk. "And I see no reason to beat about the bush. I have no doubt that you would deny the conclusions reached by these..."

A pause as the knight scans the bit of parchment for the authors.

"These citizens concerned about a cleaner Myrken Wood, but I confess that the trail they have discovered, whether true or false, is troubling. I therefore hope that we can discuss these allegations in a reasonable manner, without risking personal offense."

A preamble for diplomatic purposes, and honest ones too. Heated disagreements over ex-Councilors and Governors were best left for privacy.

"The questions I have are twofold. Firstly, and without disrespect intended, but we have seen the constables doggedly track down the Ashfiend and others of his ilk, yet they seem unable to resolve the case of Jan Baker's death. What was it, about this case in particular, that prevented the constabulary from finding the Baker murderer?"

"The second is more a matter of curiosity, but these advertisements suggest that your farm is run differently than most, if not all, of the others in Myrken." With that his hands went to work folding the parchment back into tidy squares.

"Is it true? And, if so, how is it different?"

[Cinnabar]

The appearance of the pamphlet is hardly surprising - a brief rearranging of the papers on the lectern indicates that he has his own copy of the document to hand, a brief skim to reacquaint himself with its contents before he looks back to Sir Malaroth. The Governor offers only a mild shrug at the supposition that they are the reason for this meeting, but no particular challenge given - people believe what they will, clearly. He listens as the knight speaks, attentive and focussed, waiting for him to finish before composing his answer.

"To call them advertisements is to give them rather more credit than they deserve. While the facts given are general enough to be broadly true, the conclusions drawn from them are utterly without merit, founded on little more than ignorant assumptions and base speculation. You are quite correct, however, that I deny the allegations of any involvement either in Jan Baker's murder, or Councillor Spier's extended absence." Firm in tone, gaze briefly moving across the crowd as if to see whether any might challenge his assertion. Looking back to the Grand Master, he continues.

"With respect, I feel it is misleading to compare Baker's murder and the Ashfiend's campaign of terror against Myrken Wood. On the one hand we have a man murdered in his home, as you say, with a fairly large number of potential suspects to be questioned and evaluated. On the other, we have a creature who butchered scores - no, hundreds of people in displays of shocking violence, and whose killings were notable for their brutality, and the ghoul's utter disregard for concealing his responsibility for the attacks. As such, the differences in these cases makes any attempt at comparison quite spurious, sir, and any attempt to imply that lack of perceived progress in one case compared to the other is due to sinister plots and devious conspiracies is laughable. In the Baker case, it was difficult to discern the identity of the murderer; in the Ashfiend case, it was difficult to dispute it." A pause to regard his notes again, before grey eyes lift once more to the knight.

"That the Baker case remains unresolved is one of the more erroneous assumptions in this supposed web of intrigue. On closer inspection it became clear that the case was a good deal more involved than was first apparent, and required considerable delicacy in its pursuit. I will not go into details here, out of respect for the reputations of those involved, but suffice to say it was determined that Jan Baker's killer acted in the defence of others, and that he was far from the blameless victim of - what was it? - dark machinations that this pamphlet portrays." Some hint of anger at that, a controlled outrage kept carefully in check. Perhaps a wish that the full facts might be made public, were it not for the damage that such revelations would inflict upon the case's other victims.

"The Baker case is closed, the investigation complete. The details remain confidential, however, in order that those involved need not be forced to endure public disgrace on top of the injuries already inflicted upon them. Clearly those prone to such habits will speculate and spread scurrilous untruths as a result, but I stand by the integrity of the investigation, and of those officers involved in it." The Governor clears his throat, then, taking a deep breath and moving on.

"Meanwhile, the assertion that my farm is run differently from almost any other in Myrken is something of an exaggeration. At the time I purchased the property, the farm's tenants were indentured workers who had been contracted to Jan Baker for a considerable length of time, and on the basis of whose toil the Bakers prospered while the workers themselves lived in poverty. Indeed, I do not feel I mis-speak when I say that the use of indentured labour amounts to little less than slavery by another name, and there is no place for it in any civilised land. It is a practise open to all manner of abuse - Baker's indentured workers had paid off their debt many times over, and yet twenty years after their arrival in Myrken Wood they still toiled for him, bound in contractual chains that should have been removed years before. It is a stark example of the difference between that which is lawful, and that which is just. It is my hope that as Governor I will be able to eliminate such discrepancies, to bring justice and the law into harmony with one another." Vehement in this assertion, passionate in his desire to promote not just what is lawful, but what is right. He recalls himself in the next moment, a deliberate moderation of tone and features before he continues.

"To address your query, following my acquisition of the Baker property I ended the workers' contracts and offered them what I felt to be a fairer agreement, to which they agreed. In short, I own the land and they work it as tenants, and the property's output is divided between us. You might view it as my paying them for their labour, or them paying me for the use of my land. Either way, the concept of tenant and landlord is hardly a new one, nor indeed particularly uncommon. It is different from the situation during Baker's time, but that is by no means a bad thing. For a start, my tenants are entirely free to leave the agreement at any time, should they so desire, though I am pleased to say that very few have chosen to do so. " A certain pride at that, a certain sense of vindication that he has been fair in his dealings with the farm's workers, that he has won their loyalty without need for threats or blackmail or intimidation or any of the other methods of which his detractors accuse him. That he has done what is right.

"I hope that answers your questions, sir."

[Malaroth]

There is some nodding on the part of the knight, a polite silence as he listens to the Governor's response. Eyes narrowed, as they so often are, into vulture-like slits spying for carrion, mark those moments when Calomel's anger seems stirred, his passions excited, his wrath awoken. Maybe the man had been dodging such accusations for a while, but it did not seem to take much to excite the Constable-Governor.

With that in mind, his voice modulated, even and civil, he offered a smile in courtesy.

"It does, Governor, and I thank you for your answer. If I may pose a follow-up question I will thank you in advance, listen to the answer, and then be silent so as to allow others to speak." His smile broadens then, somewhat sheepish, a moment shy, his desire certainly not to monopolize time or direction. There needed to be truth here, however, and perhaps some probing might yield it.

"I gather then the Baker's killer was apprehended? I understand from your answer that you are not willing to tarnish the reputations of those involved. Such an act requires trust, perhaps a great deal of it."

A hand raised, open and palm for the Governor, a polite indication to wait upon any emotional detonations that he might finish.

"I understand these things. However, it might seem to the populace," with this a flippant wave of the folded pamphlet, "that in this suspicious matter there is a distinct lack of accountability. Is there any way to reach a compromise, perhaps? Something to bolster people's confidence while protecting those who need not be besmirched? Perhaps an investigation by a neutral third party?"

"You understand of course that the seeming lack of accountability is not to imply you are dishonest, but accountability is important for its own sake, even for the most honest of men."