**Present Day, the Proletariat Assembly in Naarden

"Absolutely outrageous!"

The cry came out as a shrill shout from the opposition member now standing tall and proud, waving his fist about as if it was some sort of medieval flail with which he could bludgeon his counterpart with. The man couldn't be more than thirty years of age and looked all the part of a young revolutionary fresh from the fight, complete with the trappings of revolution to complete the illusion. All around him similarly dressed individuals shared their consent in the form of raucous applause and hollering, pointing fingers and banging tables. Each and every one of them bore the banner of the Naarden communist party in some form or fashion, either in the form of patches, buttons, or small flags they had brought with them to the Assembly. A quick, wry grin flashed across the face of the accuser, sure of his victory with a single shout and simple thrashing of his limbs. Despite the sheer volume of their outcries, however, the communists were outnumbered. Lining the walls of the simple chamber were scores of indviduals, from the Anarcho-Syndicalist party and the majority Socialist party who remained seated, sneering at their opponents. Although several of the minority Anarcho-Syndicalists had voiced similar opinions about the referendum they had done so much more calmly and in a manner more befitting elected representatives in a house of law making. The Socialists, however, seemed an implacable host of solid dissension, stern displeasure oozing from their frowns and furrowed brows.

"How can we allow this ousted traitor of the people to simply return to his position! He is lucky to be alive, let alone living in such quality of life! It would be a disservice to all those who died in the revolutions around the world to allow this tyrant-dog his crown once more! He should remain a curiosity of the old order and nothing more! Or better: Dead!"

The numerous agreements came in the form of an audible tidal wave of sound one more, the demagogue's oration sending his followers into a flurry of banging on tables and waving banners once more. One by one they stood, clapping their hands and hooting like apes in a zoo. Even several of the Anarcho-Syndicalists clapped their ascension though not without scornful gazes shared between them and their compatriots in their own party. Throughout it all Representative Anton Aanjes remained stoic, staring down his opponent as if attempting slit his throat with the sharpness of his gaze. Anton was a member of the Socialist Party of Naarden and indeed one of their greatest orators and most outspoken individuals. The man was aged at fifty five, having had his fifty fifth birthday not but three days ago before he had to return to this awful hellhole of sycophants and demagogues after a weekend of joy with his families on the southern beaches of Naarden. A low grumble escaped his lips before he finally stood, taking a moment of calm in the obnoxious cheering to mean it was his time to respond. Two hands slowly slid down from his breast pocket to where his breeches began to straighten out his clothing before he nodded towards the opposition with one hand twirling his majestic, greying moustache into proper position. The instant he had stood upright the members of the Anarcho-Syndicalist and Socialist parties went silent with the opposition grunting out mild, quiet grumbling to hold them over for their next tirade. 

"My fellow representatives of this fine Republic of Naarden," he intoned in his smokey, southern-accented tongue, "My counterpart has spoken as softly as he did wisely. I can only say that I agree with him wholeheartedly. This whole discussion is without a doubt **absolutely outrageous**. He shouts of revolutions and of ousted tyrants without an understanding of what it is to suffer under the weight of tyranny or fight to shatter said bindings. As all who know me will know, I was there when Prince Daamian abdicated; I was there when the Prince of Vallonia-Picardie shelled the peaceful protesters and I was there when that same Tyrant was arrested and sent to his new home in shackles. My opponent was not. He was ten at the time, no more a man at the time than I am a Prince as I stand before you. 

Prince Daamian, unlike every ruler within the lands that now constitute this Federal Republic, abdicated. He heard the desires of his people and chose to surrender it all. In a show of mutual benevolence we voted to let him keep a portion of his wealth and a single home in Naarden. Since then he has been nothing but kind to all peoples who have made his acquaintance and has become a beloved symbol of Naardener success: the Prince that served his people, rather than expected them to serve him. This proposed referendum is not to return him to position of Prince as a ruler of men and an arbitrator of laws: he is to be Prince of Naarden, a hallmark of our cultural history and a beloved icon of our victory. Let the world see that the Proletariat and the Monarchy can reach a place where one need not slay the other.

I beseech you to see the will of the people as this Prince did. The votes are in, the signatures cast, the petitions clear; the people's desire for a referendum to reinstate the hereditary title of Prince of Naarden. You, as their appointed representatives, owe it to them to enact their will, not that of your own. This is not a decision to declare him Prince right here and now but to give the people the chance to make the choice for themselves. I know I shall enter that poling booth and vote just as any other citizen and I urge you all to do the same rather than bandy your words in the privacy of this assembly where the people cannot hear you. Do the right thing, Brothers and Sisters of the Revolution, and let them decide what's right for them."

Applause filled the hall as two thirds of the room stood, clapping their hands and offering praises in the form of verbal support and ascension. The Communist party floundered, looking to themselves with worried glances as the idea of them being similar to the tyrannical monarchists in any way gave them great pause. With their party leaders blanching at keeping the democratic vote from the people they raised the white flag and called recess, with acceptance of the referendum being signed onto paper without a single face-to-face meeting between the parties. They may have lost but they sure wont going to show it. The referendum was set to take place one month from now, with a single speech by Prince Daamian to educate the population on his intentions.