The Return of the Prefect - and a Speech

[Verion]

The golden wheat fields of Crisco shone in the early morning sun. From the East, across the main road, a large colonne of vehicles crossed the manificent landscape. They were military vehicles, mostly, though some civilian. Trucks, jeeps and a couple of armoured vehicles all rode across the asphalt road that leads towards Shirekeep. The colonne hoisted a multitude of flags. There was the flag of the Verionists, but also the Shirithian flag and the Prefect's standard. The banners of the Apollonian Guard and the City Guard were also flying brightly in the sunlight. Onward the colonne went, to the capital, to Shirekeep.

The city of Shirekeep was merely a shadow of what it had once been. From the illustrious city of majestic grandeur that guided the greatest empire the world had ever seen, it had been degraded to a cesspool of poverty and dispair. The citizens who had some savings, or family in other parts of the country had all left. The Kalirion fracture had destroyed much of Shirekeep's glory. Even the return of the Kaiseress, a few days ago, could not stop it. The decline had set in and there was no turning back now.

The colonne had reached the Elwynn river. On the south bank, a large number of boats were awaiting the group. The Guardsman and soldiers boarded the ships, and slowly the first vessels sailed towards the city itself. On the side of the city, on the docks, a large crowd had assembled. Not only loyalist soldiers, but also citizens and denizens of the city.

The Prefect was on one of the first boats. He rose up, climbed on an impromptu podium and took a megaphone from one of the Guardsmen. He started to speak:

"Men and women of Shireroth. I, your Prefect, have returned to this great city. It is with a heavy heart that I left it. I was forced to do so, by the most unfortunate of circumstances. I pray the gods that such a tragedy may never occur again. Now I have returned, the city has changed but it still stands. And it will always stand.

My dear citizens, I have come to you because I owe you and the Shirithian people an explanation. I will share with you a story, a story of hard choices and of difficult outcomes. It is already some years ago that I made the first choice that lead to this moment. It was a time of great peril. Shireroth was failing, there was talk of secession and revolution. Partisanship had gone rampant, and the elites of this country were busy carving up the greatest Empire the world has ever seen and will seen, for a little bit of personal profit and vanity. In these circumstances, Shireroth needed a leader. Alas, it found none. The government was as corrupt as the people it said to protect us from, and many elements within the government supported and accelerated the demise of our Imperial Republic. The Kaiseress, a young child with a noble name, did not reside in the country. I saw that the people needed a leader, and I heeded the call of our nation. Now, many said that it was illegal, and that I usurped the throne. I don't care about those talks. All I care about is the facts: that when Shireroth needed a leader, I rose up and I acted. Unfortunately, the result was not what I hoped for. Most of you remember the civil war of '71. It weakened our city, and it weakened my cause. I had to flee, and so I did. And while I resided on the Skyla Islands, our Imperial Republic was killed, and chopped to pieces. Now, I claimed the Mango Throne only for one reason: to prevent the demise of our country. Clearly, I have failed in this objective. This is why today, with you as my witnesses, I renounce the throne, and designate as my successor and only lawful Kaiseress, Salome Ylva Octavia Ayreon-Kalirion ibn al-Majeed al-Osman bin Sathrati of Waffel-Paine, the Young Kaiseress. Long may she reign!

Now, I and the men loyal to my cause, will work with her, fight with her and stand with her to make the Imperial Republic great again, to make it rise from the ashes. I will take my place in the Prefects Keep, and I will heed my nations call when it comes to me. We will rebuild this city, we will rebuild this nation!"

The ships sailed across the river, landed at the docks. The Guardmen, the soldiers and others stepped on land. They were home again, in the greatest city on Micras...

[Continuator]

(Placeholder)

The dockyards, situated outside the tall walls and barred gates of the inner city, were unusually still as the boats of the invading force approached .

As the first of those renegade Guardsmen, foolhardy souls who had followed the former Prefect into exile in the Skyla Isles and subsequently become embroiled in sundry Verionist machinations, clambered from their boats onto the quayside at the Cabbagefall Terminal the first volley of crackling rifle fire rang out from the warehouse buildings of the ESB Dockyards. Men toppled over as they were struck, and still others threw themselves down onto the concrete and gravel surface of the quayside.