Officers of the Peace, Servants of the Law.

Officers of the Peace, Servants of the Law.

Postby Cinnabar » Tue Apr 17, 2007 7:46 am

Rows of expectant faces look towards the makeshift podium where Cinnabar stands, carefully trying not to look too uncomfortable in his grey uniform tunic. His hair is still a tousle of unruly tufts, but the rest of his presentation is immaculate. Not a button unpolished, not a seam out of place, a dapper if somewhat monochrome figure. He surveys the ranks of similarly-attired Constables, noting the tendency to stand up straighter as his approving gaze passes over each in turn, and can't help but smile slightly. The twenty men provided by Lord Aldred's household are easy enough to spot, military drill in their posture. The rest don't do too bad a job of matching them, for the most part, and isn't that a wonder.

It has been a busy few weeks for Myrkentown's recently-appointed High Constable, a period in which a vast tide of minutiae has constantly threatened to swamp him and leave him foundering. It should have been a simple thing, he can't help but think - assemble a number of civic-minded and stout-hearted folk, inform them of their duties and powers, equip them with the tools to perform said duties, swear them in and send them out to make Myrkentown safe for its citizenry once more.

Instead it has been a mass of details, a million and one things that need organising, arranging, directing and orchestrating. Headquarters to prepare, uniforms and equipment to procure; the business of cataloguing the skills and knowledge and experience that the would-be Constables brought to the role, arranging for those with useful skills to teach them to the others; discerning which recruits would make decent Detective Constables, which would do better as Street Constables, organising a hierarchy for the love of all that's good in the world; hiring support staff, clerks, armourers, stablehands, scribes; and everywhere prices to be negotiated, disputed, haggled and agreed before being signed off by the Governor's office. It'd be enough to turn a man grey before his time, were his hair not silver already.

Nevertheless, somehow all these details, these issues and complications, have been managed - some through delicate negotiation, some through firm command, some through shrewd delegation, and some (mercifully few) through getting in someone's face until they stopped being such a bloody nuisance and got on with sorting it out.

Each recruit has received a crash course in combat (quarterstaff and truncheon, taught by a grizzled old veteran who was bemused to find himself serving as master-of-arms) and instruction on their duties as Constables, including what they may (and may not) do in the course of said duties. They've been issued with uniforms, boots and badges. They're as ready as they're going to be. And now they're gathered here, in the courtyard in front of the Myrkentown Constabulary's interim headquarters (used to be a teamster's post, hence the bountiful warehouse space, reassuringly secure office building and well-built stables currently being converted into holding cells). And they're waiting for him to say something. Well then. He clears his throat.

"Constables of Myrkentown." Good start. "Times have been dark in Myrkentown of late, that the streets are not safe for honest citizens; that will soon change. Many of you have family and loved ones here; you appreciate what is at stake. Others of you are here thanks to the generosity of Lord Aldred; I know that you will serve the people of Myrkentown as loyally and diligently as your lord." A moment for that to sink in, taking the time to make eye-contact with the more senior of Aldred's men.

"You all know why you are here. You all know what is required of you, by the oath you have sworn and the badge you wear. You know the standards of conduct that I expect from you - fairness, impartiality, honesty and rigour. I will see these things in everything you do as Constables. I expect no less." A hint of steel in his tone. "Do not disappoint me." And let that sink in - pointed eye-contact with a few others, grey gaze keen and unflinching. Oh yes, you especially.

"The people of Myrkentown will come to trust you to assist them, to serve and to protect them. In return, you will do everything in your power to ensure that such trust is well-deserved. You are Officers of the Peace. You are servants of the Law, and it is the Law which allows you to uphold the Peace, to be the shield between the honest citizenry and those who would harm them. Remember that." He nods firmly. "That is all. The patrol roster can be found at the Duty Constable's desk. Dismissed."

He feels a surge of pride at the strengthened resolve and determination upon each Constable's features, and he grins.

"Mind how you go."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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Cinnabar
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