By Royal Command, the End of an Error

By Royal Command, the End of an Error

Postby BDAdmin » Tue Sep 02, 2014 10:16 am

A span of a few short hours since Glenn Burnie's removal; his being escorted from the building has been seen, and word has spread outwards from the Meetinghouse as a ripple of news, rumours, speculation and conjecture, passed from mouth to ear along Myrkentown's winding streets. The time since has seen a succession of soldiers in regimental blue-and-gold hurrying up and down the Meetinghouse steps, bearing messages and missives to various quarters.

A couple of hours after noon a company of soldiers in regimental blue-and-gold march across the East Mavoiir bridge, taking up positions around the deck in the market square; grey-coated officers of the Myrkentown Constabulary are already present in threes and fours around the perimeter of the marketplace, watchful but, for now, remaining uninvolved.

At last a small group emerges from the Meetinghouse: a couple of blue-and-gold infantrymen; a lean and careworn man in Constabulary grey; a stocky and dark-haired man in Militia black; at the centre of the group, a bearded man with iron-grey hair, clad in a steel cuirass over his blue-and-gold. The deputation makes its way around the edge of the marketplace to the deck. A brief conference at the foot of the steps before the Baron climbs alone onto the platform, a roll of paper in one gloved hand and takes a moment to survey the crowd of townsfolk, traders, marketgoers and onlookers who have drifted into the square since, curious for further news.

A glance to the soldiers around the deck, a few quiet words, and the infantryman raises a horn to his lips, blowing a brief and brassy fanfare. As the crowd noise dies down the Baron unrolls the parchment, lifting his voice and his head to deliver the proclamation in stentorian tones honed on parade ground and battlefield.

"Whereas His Majesty King Chedwry the Second wishes for his subjects to be governed wisely, justly, and diligently; and

"Whereas Myrken Wood has endured grievous misrule by a succession of Governors from Gad Phuri to Glenn Burnie, in which those not inept proved negligent, those not negligent proved corrupt, and those not corrupt were overthrown; and

"Whereas Myrken Wood's Judiciary Council has done little to curtail the misrule of said governors, and in many instances has either facilitated or encouraged it; and

"Whereas Myrken Wood has most recently suffered under the inconstant rule of Governor Glenn Burnie, whose pride, arrogance and inattention caused grievous and widespread violations of property, body and mind to be inflicted upon the populace at large, particularly at the hands of his woman, the witch Rhaena Olwak; and

"Whereas these burdens have fallen most onerously on the common citizenry - the farmers, the craftsmen, the labourers, the shopkeepers - those who toil and strive to live good, honest and productive lives, but instead have found themselves terrorised, beaten, starved and abandoned; and

"Whereas Myrken Wood prevails not by virtue of its government but in spite of it, instead relying upon the indomitable resilience of its people and their will to find safety and prosperity for themselves and their children."

"Therefore, I, Baron Almeric Surdemer, Colonel of His Majesty's Twenty-Eighth Regiment of Foot, by the authority invested in me by His Regal Majesty King Chedwry the Second, and by the laws of the Kingdom of Trae Kelsa, do proclaim the Myrken Wood Judiciary Council hereby dissolved with immediate effect; no member thereof shall make further use of any style, title, privilege or authority associated with or conferred by membership of that body."

A pause, a span of a couple of heartbeats allowed for that news to sink in and to propagate through the crowd before he continues.

"In place of the Judiciary Council shall be formed an Interim Government, to oversee the continued administration and execution of such business of governance as is vital to the wellbeing of His Majesty's subjects in Myrken Wood, and all citizens of Myrken Wood are strictly enjoined and required to comply and cooperate with the instructions and edicts of same.

"This Interim Government shall be headed by Aloisius Treadwell, hereby granted the title of Lord Steward, by virtue of his considerable experience in government both in Myrken Wood and in Amasynia, and his singular constancy in the diligent execution of his duties in spite of the vagaries and excesses of his peers.

"Lord Steward Treadwell shall be attended in his duties by Lady Egris Verreaux, hereby granted the title of Lady Warden, by virtue of her dedication to and compassion for His Majesty's subjects in Myrken wood, most notably but not solely in the relief of the famine which so sorely taxed the land this winter past.

"The Myrken Wood Militia and the Myrkentown Constabulary are hereby charged to attend to their duties unaltered, to wit, the protection of Myrken Wood and its people from harm, and the preservation of the rule of law respectively, answering to the Interim Government as they did previously to the Governor and Judiciary Council.

"The Interim Government shall operate until such a point as a new Council is formed, comprised of Myrken Wood's most preeminent landlords and titled gentry, and an equal number of citizen representatives, selected by their peers; or until a year and a day have passed, whichever be sooner; if no new Council be formed by this point the territory shall fall under the purview of a Lord Governor, appointed at His Majesty's discretion.

"God Save the King!"

The cry is echoed by the soldiers around the deck as Surdemer rolls up the parchment again, tucking it under his arm as he turns and descends from the deck.
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Re: By Royal Command, the End of an Error

Postby Jirai » Tue Sep 02, 2014 11:29 am

The nimble urchin had secured a prime spot, as rumors of -something- spread and the square began to fill. Close enough to hear everything, high enough to see everything, yet far enough away to be first -out- of the square, quick feet carrying the youth to spread the word to a certain number of people who would pay well for such news.

An enterprising youth could turn a coin on anything, after all.
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Re: By Royal Command, the End of an Error

Postby Rance » Tue Sep 02, 2014 12:51 pm

She watched and listened, and that was all.

Gloria Wynsee was just another round head in the crowd. She had been here before, she realized -- standing almost at this same spot, with her heel on an off-center cobble, as Glenn Burnie erupted with words in this very same square. The seasons were different, the people were different, and she was different. She perched on the tips of her toes, glancing at blue-and-gold-garbed soldiers, searching for Henderson with futile, subdued excitement.

...do proclaim the Myrken Wood Judiciary Council hereby dissolved with immediate effect.

She wondered how much whiskey would be consumed tonight by the Kazmerrik clan.
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Re: By Royal Command, the End of an Error

Postby Treadwell » Tue Sep 02, 2014 2:07 pm

Lord Steward.

Of course Treadwell hears every word of the announcement; his toy shop is only a few yards from the deck it is called from. He'd been warned of this but a few hours earlier by means of a note sent from Surdemer, but now, everything is official.

Thus does Lord Steward Treadwell gently rock by the fireplace in his toy shop, simply dressed in the black robe he's been favoring on and off the last few days.

"I should wonder if they will have me speak on this at some point, mmph mmph."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: By Royal Command, the End of an Error

Postby channe » Thu Sep 04, 2014 12:36 am

To the right of the crowd, almost outside of earshot, Agnieszka Kaczmarek stands alone wearing Aleksei's crystal sword, her black hair braided like a civilian. And she looks like a civilian, too; it's hard to tell it's her in that peasant's dress, and maybe that's the point.

She takes the whole announcement with very little emotion. She hears Treadwell's name -- ah, that man will survive any regime change -- and Lady Egris', and her hand comes up to her throat where the beautiful silver Myrken broach has been pinned there for -- for years? Perhaps for years, at this point. She tears it off without being careful, drops it on the ground, and grinds it into the dusty late summer earth without being careful. Maybe one of the pretty tree-branches breaks under the pressure of her loss and her anger; at least, the broach will never be wearable again.

So be it, she thinks. Let them have this curse, if they want it so much. Let it consume them and drag them to the hell where the rest of us live.

And she'll be off, stalking off in the direction of Oakhollow and the new church on the hill, where her husband and family are waiting.
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