2017-11-06: The Ancient Dance
- Cutscene: The Ancient Dance
- Cast:Shakhan
- Where: Bledavik
- Date: November 6th, 2017
- Summary: A week after Princess Cecilia's 'kidnapping', Prime Minister Shakhan makes a formal announcement of blame.
Bedlam was not a common affair in Bledavik, but in the days following Princess Cecilia’s speech, bedlam was what reigned in the city’s heart as gears patrolled her streets and thoroughfares, families huddled in fear, and the desperate and greedy took to looting and banditry while black smoke rose from the top of the royal palace. The citizenry was in a state of shock, unaccustomed to such violence beyond their borders with Kislev.
Order was restored swiftly beneath the auspices of Gebler; the curfew was re-established by nightfall, and a few harsh examples dealt with open crime. But a the city’s denizens could not abide the silence that followed, and rumor quickly took up chaos’s place. What had happened Princess Cecilia? Was it true she’d consorted with pirates and had them take the Prime Minister for ransom?
It takes some time before the powers ruling Aveh decide on the best course of action, but they recognize that sooner is better than later. A ruling was given, and the words were soon on the lips of every man, woman, and child who called Bledavik their home: The Prime Minister was alive and well, and would soon speak on all that had taken place.
Later that same day, Shakhan appeared on the same podium the Princess had absconded from, resplendent in the robes of his office. Flanked on either side by his honor guard, the Prime Minister surveyed the assembled masses with an air of imposed regality.
“Brothers and sisters of Aveh.” He began, his hands spread in a gesture of magnanimity. “I come before you not only as your ruler, but as a man of the cloth. I come ask strength and endurance of Lord Granas, for today we find ourselves attacked from all sides!”
Shakhan’s voice strikes a chord, and he swung down fist, evoking the awe of the crowd-he was, after all, one a man who commanded the faithful. “Like you all, I was horrified by the tragedy of Adlehyde, and the returns of the Metal Demons, humanity’s ancient foe. When news of King Justin’s foul murder reached my ears I mourned, for he was not only my ally.” The man said, bowing his bald head, “He was also….my friend.”
A moment is left for the depth of the words to sink in, and Shakhan continued. “For months, I had my best men search for Princess Cecilia to offer the protection of our nation, that she might rule her own kingdom from afar after her traitorous chancellor sold it out to those charlatans and their false goddess. When she was finally found and brought to us, my heart rejoiced with yours! For how else could we honor our friendship with King Justin other than by restoring his heir to herr rightful place?”
The former etone shook his head, his face a well-rehearsed image of pain. “And yet, just as she was take up her rightful place, a seed of doubt entered her heart. There can be no doubt who planted this seed. The same ones who bargain with pirates and rebels to attack us at the height of our festival. The same ones who had the princess stolen back to their machinations, burning our royal gardens in the process! Who, you ask?!”
The air was still. Shakhan looked from face to face in amidst the crowd, his eyes narrowed as if searching for meaning. “I’ll tell you.” He said at last, a quiet fire rising in his voice. “It is those heathen guardsmen who stand behind this plot. They did it to break us. To assail our spirit, mock our ideals, and insult our faith at the behest of their pretty falsehoods!”
“And yet still we stand! Unbowed, unbent, unbroken!” Shakhan proudly proclaimed, and at his words a cheer and applause rose up through the assembled masses until he quieted them with a gentle lowering of his hands. “We have all heard the rumors surrounding by these foreigners, these so-called faithful. That they recruit the impoverished and desperate with lies of another world, verdant and green. That the plague of miasma warping land and livestock is somehow their doing. In the spirit of peace and tolerance we dismissed such talk and allowed them the opportunity to exhibit virtue. For is it not the will of Granas to let others, even the misguided, be judged by their works?”
Murmured agreements begins to flow through the ranks until Shakhan continues. “Well then.” He gestured to their surroundings, and vehemently slammed his fist down on the podium. “Look upon their works! Our fair city marred, reapers and worse roaming the countryside, Adlehyde under their thumb, and now we see beginnings of the same in Krosse as their priests fill the streets! To recognize the will of Granas in our differences and accept them is one thing, but scripture does not mince words on false prophets!”
“The time for tolerance is at an end.” The usurper declared, his voice rising against the frenzy of the crowd. “Although we welcome the support of what allies that remain to us in this trying time, if Aveh alone must stand for liberty and reason, so be it! The worship of Althena is hereby banned within Aveh’s borders on pain of imprisonment, nor will her militant followers be allowed entry! All the kingdoms of Ignas would do well to follow suit, lest they be the next to fall!”
The Prime Minister concludes his speech with a showman’s flourish, leaving the crowd in cacophony of awakened zeal. Chants rise up from a maelstrom of voices, spreading like wildfire. By the next morn, everyone from the alleys and taverns of Dazil to the hinterlands of November City will have heard the call.
“All hail Aveh!”
“Glory to Granas!”
“Down with heathens!”