TruthHurts
Yankee
Morimens
Scrawl Banditta
Lemons
Candelabra
Haha
Iwannabeyours
Candy Cane Elf
mickilennialℂoeus
“Alright, Reina. They’re ready for you.”
“Excellent. Draw the curtains. I am ready.”
Alistair flicked the switch, then fell into step behind her as she stepped into the evening sun. They’d calculated it perfectly–the rays were at the optimal angle to strike a golden chord across the city square.
Reina was giving the speech from the third floor balcony window of Young Enterprises. Unlike many other lords, who often lived in estates built away from the bustle of daily life, House Young lived in a multi-floor suite right in the heart of their capital city, Coeus. The Young Enterprises building was 49 stories tall, the tallest building in Croania, with the Young residences taking the top 3 floors.
A crowd several thousand strong milled about in the square, all staring up expectantly at their lord. Reina had made sure to send out invitations to all the minor nobility and important investors, who watched from special seats in the surrounding buildings. All in all, an excellent turnout.
Six microphones. Two cameras. Thousands and thousands of eyes. Reina took a deep breath, then stepped up to the podium.
“My dear citizens, compatriots, friends. Thank you for attending on this fine fall evening.” She took another deep breath, then continued. “We are gathered here today, not only those in person, but those watching at home, in bars, on the street looking at public screens–we are gathered here today because of one reason: the future.
House Young has always looked towards the future. We push the boundaries of what humans can achieve, we create miracles nobody 100 years ago could even dream of, and we do it together. We set our eyes on it because it is the right thing to do–for our friends, for our children, and for our community. But most of all, we do it because we can.
‘For the Young.’ Our house motto. For the future generations, for our country, for ourselves. We innovate. We hypothesize. We succeed.” Reina raised a fist towards the air. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but something… was off. She continued with the speech nonetheless.
“Last week, I, alongside several other representatives from House Kothlin and House Lapseus, tried to negotiate with the Southern houses. We tried to push for reform, change, we tried to show them that the future is what this country must work towards. And yet, despite all our efforts, as you may have heard, those peaceful negotiations were shattered–by Southern pride, by their unwillingness to give notice to their own shortcomings, and by their sheer disrespect for all that peaceful negotiations stand for.
The attack by the South was deliberate. There was a clear plan to sabotage the talks. But they failed. They were too incompetent to carry out their plan in its entirety. Several of our own died, but they missed their key targets. And as a result, they have made a grave mistake.
House Young will not stand for this blatant attack upon our integrity, on our work, and on our people. Effective immediately, House Young declares war upon the Mage Queen!”
Reina’s proclamation rang out clearly and confidently. However, the crowd reacted not with jubilant cheers, like she expected, but with waves of murmurs and whispering, like the hissing of a steam engine.
“The Crown has ignored the plight of its peoples far too long! They sit complacent, ignorant of the suffering below their ivory towers! The lords are out of touch, thinking only of their own whims! It comes to us, House Young, alongside Houses Kothlin and Lapseus, to drag those stuck in the past towards the future!” she raised her arms outward, towards the sky. “You are strong, you are intelligent, you are wise. You are the future! For the Young!”
Reina lowered her arms. Applause and cheering broke out–but not enough. A quick count only indicated about half the crowd was participating. The rest mostly seemed to just talk with their neighbors.
As she stepped down from the podium, the curtains closing behind her, Reina snapped her fingers at a nearby aide carrying a tablet. “Quick. What’re the people saying about the speech?”
The advisor’s face was grim. “55% approval from a quick survey by Stoll Broadcasting. Sample size 600. Most are complaining that we don’t have the resources to go to war, or that you’re just as disconnected from reality as the South.”
“What? That can’t be right, send it out again.”
“Another poll, my lady! This one’s by Leichton Radio.” A woman stepped forward with another tablet. “48% approval. Same complaints.”
“You must be joking. Arthur and Mel issued their statements just a couple days ago, and they were at least in the eighties!”
The room was silent.
“It’s too late now,” Alistair said in Reina’s ear. “We can’t retract a statement that large.”
“I wasn’t even considering it,” she replied. That wasn’t a lie–there was no way she’d ever pull out from the declaration–but only fifty percent?! “This just… brings about a whole new set of worries.”
