Estrick opens his mouth to reply angrily, but Oargev's hand on his shoulder quiets the Duke. It would, I agree, be useful to know which of my subjects are located here. You may conduct your survey, Sir d'Sivis, on the condition that you give the results only to me, so that I alone may choose who to share them with. I will be able to amply compensate your House for the expense, I am sure, once I have an accounting of my assets.
After Elath has
|You should indicate whether you agree or not in your next post. If you agree, please tell me if Elath will be asking anything unusual in addition to the basics (name, occupation, age, hometown, family). Also let me know if Elath is looking for anything or anyone in particular, so that I can provide this information when I summarize the results. |
, the Prince bids the group a good night. It is growing late, gentlemen, and I must arise early tomorrow. I will be speaking to my people directly tomorrow, of course, but, Colonel, I would be very much obliged if you and your men will spread the word that I have arrived, and that I will address the entire camp at noon tomorrow.
At noon the next day--Wir, Therendor 4th--Oargev mounts the stage that the Brelish troops have hastily assembled. Elath had earlier observed the prince writing what must have been his speech, but now he carries no notes with him. The entire population of the camp, save those too infirm to leave their tents, is assembled before him. Estrick casts a spell to amplify Oargev's voice so that the entire crowd can hear him, and Elath watches the man work with interest. His spell-casting is quirky and highly irregular, quite unlike the formalized gestures and words Elath himself was taught.
When the spell has been cast, Oargev begins to speak, in a firm, clear voice that is the result of what must have been years of elocution training, but also, Elath thinks, of the prince's undeniable natural charisma.
People of Cyre! Remnants of my dear homeland! I, Oargev, scion of the ir'Wynarn line, son of Mishann, Queen of Cyre, rightful ruler of Galifar, stand before you today, forced by the terrible events of the last weeks to grasp the mantle of leadership years, decades, before it should have been taken from my mother, your Queen.
Yet my pain is nothing compared to yours, remnants of Cyre. I have lost my mother, my wife, my family, in the cruel, inexplicable events of Olarune 20th, and I mourn for them, mourn for them with all my heart. But there are those among who have lost not only parents and spouses, but children. There are those among you who have lost not only family and friends, but entire towns, entire cities. And you mourn for them, we mourn for them, with all our hearts.
But Olarune 20th, this day, this terrible day, this Day of Mourning, did not rob us only of our families, our friends, our dwellings, our livelihoods. It robbed us of our nation. Of Cyre. And compared to this loss, all the other tragedies of this terrible, inexplicable day are as nothing. (No, not inexplicable, I swear to you, for something, someone caused this day, this Day of Mourning, and I, we, shall never rest until that force is brought to justice...)
For on Olarune 19th, in Cyre, people still died, mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, daughters and sons. But one fragile, wonderful, shining idea lived on; Cyre lived on, beloved, cherished Cyre. In Eston, in Kalazart, in wonderful, shining Metrol, Cyre lived on, gleaming brightly at the heart of Khorvaire. If the Dragon Above, mighty Siberys himself, were to wake and to look down upon the life-bearing corpse of his sister Eberron, he would not have been able, on Olarune 19th, to tear his gaze away from Cyre, wonderful, shining Cyre, beloved, cherished Cyre, Cyre, the Jewel of Galifar. Now, though--
Weep, oh nations of Khorvaire, for the Jewel of Galifar is no more. You have finally completed what you started when you rejected the true and proper right of Mishann to ascend the throne of Galifar. With your jealousy and petty ambitions, you have brought this disaster on us all! Weep, my brothers and sisters, for our homes and our families have been eliminated in a foul and cowardly way. Do not let Cyre be forgotten! Do not let the Day of Mourning end! Not until we have discovered the villain. Not until we have made the villain face justice for this heinous crime. Not until Cyre’s children are once more safe and content within their homeland. Weep this day, my fellow Cyrans, and never forget. But tomorrow . . . tomorrow we begin to hunt down this villain, to demand justice, and to rebuild beloved, cherished Cyre. Tomorrow! Tomorrow we shall go home!
|Full disclosure: this paragraph (but not the rest of the speech) is taken from Five Nations, p. 77. |
Cheers--ragged, haunted cheers, of ragged, haunted men and women and children, but cheers nonetheless--ring out, and do not cease for some minutes.