A Public Address.

[Cinnabar]

Early in the morning, flyers are posted around Myrkentown to inform the public of an official announcement to be made later in the day regarding news from Derry; apparently this will involve a statement by a representative from the Office of the Governor, and concerned citizens are advised to be present in the Marketplace at noon.

As noon draws near and a crowd gathers in the market square, where a temporary podium has been erected over the course of the morning. Grey-uniformed Constables are present in considerable though not intimidating numbers, and the general air is one of curious anticipation.

Eventually the appointed hour arrives, and a gentleman in grey tunic and brass buttons takes the dais; young, well-scrubbed, silver hair cropped close against his scalp. None other than Cinnabar Calomel, High Constable and now, apparently, Governor in some capacity. He stands straight-backed and attentive as he looks out over the sea of faces, some curious, some suspicious, some worried, some uncertain. An interesting moment, a first meeting between this fresh-faced young man and the public he purports to serve and guide. He clears his throat and glances at a sheaf of papers, then lifts his head and his voice to address the crowd in clear, confident tones.

"Citizens of Myrken Wood. By now some of you may have heard of troubling news from the East, from Thessilane and from Derry. Some two weeks ago, Duke Burel of Thessilane announced himself and his lands to be no longer governed by the Trae Kelsan Crown.

"Two days ago, without declaration and without warning, Thessilanean armies crossed the border into Derry, our eastern neighbour, with a demand that that land surrender, and join Thessilane in their rebellion against the Crown. Despite a valiant resistance, the armies of Derry have not been able to stem the tide of the Thessilanean advance, which even now draws near to the capital of Wrexham."

He pauses for a moment to allow this news to sink in, and for the initial buzz of crowd-noise to subside.

"We cannot in good faith condone this act of rampant territorial aggression by Duke Burel, with all the suffering and pain it brings to the peaceful people of Derry. Nor can we remain scattered and complacent while Thessilane marches out across the Province of Amasynia, claiming to bring unity and freedom while wielding steel and flame against those who decline to join him.

"If he truly wishes to unite Amasynia, let him send emissaries and ambassadors, not soldiers and cavalry. His actions thus far are not those of a unifying saviour, but of a ruthless conqueror."

The young man stares out across the crowd as he speaks, determination and resolve echoing in his voice.

"Myrken Wood is a troubled land, beset by many dangers, many enemies both without and within our borders. Divided, fragmented and distracted by our own individual troubles and concerns, we are weak. We are weak, we are helpless, we cannot resist that which assails us day and night, and one by one we are overcome.

"Scattered and directionless as we are, we cannot prevail. Which is why there must be change; there must be change, and it is within the reach of - every - single - one of you here to make that change. Not to merely survive, to subsist, in constant fear for your lives and those of your family. But to live, to thrive and to prosper."

He jabs a finger at the podium before him to emphasise his words, gaze roving across the market square at those who stand listening. His voice rises passionately as he speaks, earnest and fierce and suffused with an infectious fervour, a sense that he is not merely mouthing emotive nothings, nor simply uttering a politician's hollow platitudes; there is the sense that he believes in these words, that he knows with certainty that things should be better, that things can be better, that things will be better.

Murmurs spread through the crowd: some doubting, some rendered too bitter and cynical by years and troubles; but others considering his words seriously, wondering if perhaps this determined young man can make a difference. After all, has he not already done great things with the Constabulary? Has he not already brought order and some degree of safety to Myrken's streets? Has he not already made the idea of the Governor's Peace something that people don't immediately laugh at as some kind of bitter jest? Was he not one of those who travelled to Snowstill to besiege the ghoul Ashfiend? Was he not among the first to respond to the Ashfiend's attack upon Foggy Bottom, to bring relief to the townsfolk who suffered there? Might he not be able to do more?

But then he's speaking again, his voice ringing out across the square:

"People of Myrken, we must stand shoulder to shoulder; as Burel aims to unite Amasynia through force of arms, let we of Myrken Wood unite through the force of will. Let our strength be joined and multiplied, let our courage be combined and made adamant, and let our voices ring out together as one: We are Myrken, and we look out for our own!"