Lasair had been quite content up until this point to shy away from the public eye ever since her little....excursion, following her own whims instead of bending over backwards for shallow tea parties and mind-numbing soirees, but this event was entirely unavoidable. She’d well known of Witchfinder Miriam, even had the pleasure of overhearing her countless, small-minded opinions when they were attending the same social gathering, and Lasair had made a point to always hide her horn and wings and appear the gentle, nonmage darling of the Andrastes to avoid even the slightest hint of suspicion.

She’d hid her magic to avoid giving her venomous parents another laurel to claim and use for their own personal gain, to avoid the years of service to the Order and continued conscription to the crown, and to keep her reputation the way she wanted it: harmless. She glanced over the candidates once they were introduced, her gaze sliding over Enchanter Guro who’d supposedly have the Order be purely for hunting, and the Prince Sabora who promised to investigate the cause of the corruption – though with his habit of shifting his policies under torrents of criticism and accusations that naturally came with seats of power, she held little faith in him.

But Witchfinder Miriam – she must be pulled down from her smug tower. It made Lasair sick to hear of her promise of imprisoning mages who hid their talents, who harmed no one, who only wanted to live for themselves. Hatred boiled in her veins, her lips begging to sneer every time she glanced Miriam out of the corner of her eye. If she had any say in this (which she did, and she would take advantage as she could), Miriam would be brought so low that others would hesitate to listen to any more of her poisonous opinions.

So today she arrived with Basileios in tow, front and center to the debate, and once the podium was open to speakers, she wasted no time in claiming the first opportunity for herself. Lasair wore a tasteful and simple black ensemble, a statement for the Archmage who had passed, a declaration that she had been a person before she had been corrupted, and she raised her head high.

“We have all suffered,” She began, her voice gentle and yet strong enough to carry to those listening. “The attack upon the city has harmed us all, mage and nonmage alike. I speak for the nobles of Faline, for the Andrastes who have labored to repair the damage wrought by corruption, and I speak to Witchfinder Miriam. I have no query for her, for I have heard enough of where she stands.

“All of us belong to Faline, to Ivras, and this matter of how best to rule the Order concerns us all. It is all too easy to condemn mages, and each of them, for loss of home and life, and yet who came to our rescue when the beast rampaged through our streets? The Order came to their duty, but much of the first responders to the violence were wild mages who were called to the city by our king’s welcoming proclamation five years ago. Wild mages risked their lives for us, died for us. And yet Witchfinder Miriam would thank their sacrifice by imprisoning them, by hunting not for beasts but for innocent Ivrans who did not ask for the burden they must shoulder.

“We must attend to history, to our nature – should we humor Miriam’s beliefs, it will cause a rift between us all. She wishes not to teach mages how to better control their magic, for she knows little on the subject and prides herself on her ignorance! She wishes to be a prison-keeper for our neighbors, our family, our children, for those we love who had the simple misfortune of waking one day to magic they did not ask for. She does not view mages as people. And thus, I cannot commend her to the role she seeks. 

“What we must look to is a joined understanding of why this curse strikes at our populace, why it turns our people into monstrosities.” She glanced at Prince Sabora, of his one solitary promise that allowed her to think well of his claim of the seat. “The corruption is the issue, not magic itself. Magic saved all of our lives, and to ignore that is to condemn us all. Without mages, what tools do we have to fight the beasts?”

She then turned her attention to Enchanter Guro. “And we should not punish individuals outside our city walls for their magic. Should those originating from wild clans not have come to our aid, what should the death toll have been?” 

“But above all,” And then she swept her gaze to Witchfinder Miriam, her eyes accusing while her voice kept its even, rational tone. “We must remember that we are one people, all of us who reside in Ivras, magic or not. We have all suffered together.”

“Call me naïve if you wish,” She raised her head and looked towards the gathered crowd, empathy written across her lovely face. “But our enemy is not those standing beside you, but the faceless corruption that takes those we love from us. That, above all else, is what we should blame. To forget that is to let another disaster like Hagia happen again.”

She then stepped down from the podium, allowing another to speak their piece as she rejoined her place at Bas’ side, her skin itching with the desire to verbally rip Witchfinder Miriam apart. (929)

Lasair sabotages Miriam.

It was risky to be out like this, Divos knew. The sights and smells of so many others fills him with the sense of dread that he cannot quite shake anymore. Other mages, other people-- things that he once worked shoulder-to-shoulder with now all set his adrenaline on high and his blood pumping. But he has hidden for a year, and the blood on his hooves has dried.

There are some things that are too important to hide from.

The cloak sits heavy on the giraffe's shoulders. The sweltering press of so many bodies in such a crowded room. There are snatches of conversation he can pick out-- too tall ears now seem to hone in all noise, or is that his own creeping sensation down his back that makes him look over his shoulder all the time? There are murmurs of discontent-- against Guro, of course. The very reason that the misguided population of Faline rumormongers against Guro is the reason why Divos is here. Were it not for the accident a year ago that irrevocably changed his life, perhaps his opinion would have been changed.

The sight of one he had been trying to avoid taking the stage sets Divos on the thinnest edge of the blade he already teeters against. He adjusts the cloak, keeping his head and new... armaments drenched in all the shadow he can muster. But, no-- if it is one thing he can count on, it is Aleister's terrible memory and his own drastically altered appearance that keep Divos safe. As the giraffe causes discontent with that absolutely horrifying visage of his, Divos recognizes his opportunity and takes it for what it is. Beyond the pulse of the swords at his throat, covered as much as it can be by cravat and collar, the giraffe keeps barely his dark muzzle visible as he sidesteps the wide swath of pathway Aleister has made. This is still a risk-- but his reputation, his career, and his future are all on the line.

Without Guro, Divos is a risk and a liability.

Divos ascends carefully on the podium, his dark cloak brushing the top of his hooves and a hood pressing down his ears and muzzle. For a moment, Divos stands silently, letting the chaos of the last exit wash over him. Public speaking was never his forte, but facing a crowd like this, for country and home and future-- there are very few things Divos won't do in order to save his crumbling career.

He makes a slight adjustment of his robe, lets the Ambassador's medal of Siregal slip from between his buttons. The metal speaks for his position as he picks his words carefully, a soft monotone on the edge of panic.

"I serve the Magocracy of Siregal," Divos begins, "And while they are my homeland and my people, I have not been able to support them as much as I should. I have shirked my duty, but to my homeland I will lay down my honor."

"I will not waste my breath on the other two candidates. Miriam speaks of the kind of ignorance only born from those who have never traveled beyond the borders of their homeland, and Sabora is not the ally that Siregal needs." Turning from the crowd, Divos levels a stare-- a stare warped by magic from the depths of his hood-- to Guro. "The Magocracy of Siregal wants a sisterhood with you, Enchanter Guro. In you, we see a friend, a companion, the likes of which could once again make Ivras and Siregal friends. Under you, our nations would prosper. To drive away monsters, you need an army. Siregal is prepared to lend its magical prowess should the olive branch be extended. I am here to make sure it does."

Careful, so careful not to reveal his appearance, Divos bows to Guro. He rises to his full height to stare down at Sabora.

"To all others... know that the Magocracy is a wonderful ally, but a powerful foe. The dust has settled. The people want for friends, but they will not hesitate to defend against their own self-interest. This nation... does not know how to truly let its mages flourish. Your own Archmage has turned into the thing you have fought, and Faline barely emerged, partially due to its mages. What would you be able to do against the newly born nation of Siregal?"

Divos dips his head, barely polite, to the Prince Consort and the Witchfinder. He bows deeper, once again, to Enchanter Guro, and exits the podium. If this gambit fails... Divos does not want to think what may happen to him, ousted as a mage and ambassador to a nation Ivras was never friendly with.

He must help Guro win, no matter the cost.

Divos supports Guro (WC: 806)

What a mess this was already turning out to be. Málmr grimaced at the rising tension of the crowd, especially after that....eye.....was revealed. Nobody was asking questions to the candidates, but rather using the platform to speak on their own beliefs, pushing and pulling the emotions of the crowd and making it tangled. At least, that was what he felt, and it’d only been, what, a half an hour into the event? Barely?

The position was open to speak and he’d been mulling over his words since it was first allowed, and he felt that now was the best time to say what he wanted to say. He walked up to the podium, being much shorter than the previous two speakers, and cleared his throat, nervous at the prospect of speaking before a large crowd. He bore the many, many scars from the Hagia hunt, and he already knew of the impression that made, but still, he had to try.

“I’m not a great speaker like those that’ve said their piece already,” He began, his deep booming voice needing nothing more to it to be heard. “But, hello, I’m, ah, Málmr of the Stalhúð.” He bowed his head to as many as he could see in a sweeping gesture, smiling faintly behind his nerves.

“I came to Faline from the Stalhúð clan when the king opened the doors and joined the Order to better understand my magic and protect those I’ve come to care about here in Faline. I know I’m not pretty to look at, but that’s what my magic does – I make a shield, like the kind that tried to stop Hagia from destroying the city, or keep people from being hurt, and, well, I look like this as a result. Magic costs us when we use it, and it can either scar us or make us...uh...have eyes for heads.” He gave a deep sheepish laugh around his tusks. “I apologize for that. It’s not pretty, but it’s harmless, I promise.”

“Point is, if the king didn’t open the doors to the wild clans, I wouldn’t have come here. Wouldn’t have joined the Order, wouldn’t have fought the Archmage, wouldn’t have nearly died tried to stop her. I’ve fought beasts before, back home, on the sea, and I’m very proud to do what I can to help under the Order, and be taught how to save lives, and to not be afraid of myself.”

“I’m proud that joining was a choice I could make.” He said, determination finally entering his deep voice. He then glanced to Witchfinder Miriam with a frown. “I don’t think Madam Miriam is a bad person, because it takes from you to lose someone you care about. But you have to understand – some of those that go to the Order are children. You can’t – you can’t just lock them up away from their parents and not teach them how to protect themselves, to just treat them like monsters for the rest of their lives. That’s wrong. And it makes enemies out of their parents, out of those who run away. No one wants to be imprisoned, do they? Ivras would be asking for a civil war with mages on the other side.” He glanced uneasily to the last speaker, the tall giraffe in the cape. “Not to mention the other countries who wouldn’t agree with the sentiment, or take advantage of the chaos.”

Finally, he turned to Enchanter Guro. “I agree with allowing mages the choice to join the Order. To see it as a learning opportunity instead of a prison. But one thing I ask of you, Enchanter Guro, is to work alongside Prince Sabora. Like the deer said earlier--” He looked over the crowd, hastily seeking out the first speaker, and nodding to her once, “We need to address the source of the problem, not only its symptom. That’s what healers do, don’t they? Otherwise nothing changes.”

Once that was said, he turned to the crowd. “I’m sorry that mages have given cause for you all to be scared. No one wants to be afraid. But we are people, just like you, and we all want the chance to live as decently as you do, without the fear of being imprisoned for the crime of existing. Just don’t – don’t treat us like enemies. Please.”

He stepped down from the podium then with a long sigh, wondering if that would help tensions or just make it worse.

Málmr supports Enchanter Guro. (746)

The Witchfinder did not arrive in style the way her milquetoast opponent had. As ever, she was buckled to the neck in white. Being "upstaged" was none of her concern -- after Hagia, she trusted that even mages with half a brain had had enough of smoke and mirrors.

Miriam knew she began at a disadvantage with the demographic of this city hall. She had campaigned in Mead, in small towns full of non-mages, to roaring crowds of supporters who already understood her message. According to the most recent polls, she was ahead by a landslide. But she wouldn't be deluded by skewed data. This was the ultimate test: to stand and deliver before an audience of mages in Faline, a city so dense and loud that many of them could (and did) hide in plain sight. This was their turf, and all they knew of her was that she was their enemy.

She watched as a few bold ones approached, her warm eyes flickering coolly over their loud pelts and variant bodies. One with an eyeball for a head, one with swords protruding from his neck. One with a lion's tail. A particularly bold girl addressed her directly -- a beauty. Her magic itself was gorgeous. Though the young woman was well-spoken, Miriam tasted vitriol. It crackled with the vigor of youth.

"You remind me of my students," she said to Lasair directly, revealing her scarred eye as she stepped to the dais and looked the girl in the face. "For whom I have always cared very much. You accuse me of hatred -- my dear, you could not be more wrong. I have been an educator for longer than you've been alive. You accuse me of ignorance? I am one of the sole non-mage administrators at Namarast. I saved mage children as my campus burned. Nearly every colleague I have is a mage, and it is I who have had to adapt to navigate that world as an outsider. I don't need to meet more mages, or get out of the house more often." She glanced at the giraffe with the swords. "My place has been among mages, helping them grow and learn. But my trust has been violated for the last time."

Miriam addressed Lasair again. "I see you are angry. You feel that your freedom is being threatened. Your response is to remind yourself that you are an Ivratian, and that our nation's unity depends on your ability to do as you please. Do you know what I see, when an individual prioritizes their own freedom over the safety of all? I see selfishness. Small-mindedness. Cowardice."

She turned to the crowd. "You've all heard a great deal about me, I'm sure. That I intend to imprison innocent mages in a dungeon and throw away the key. Good people, let us move beyond the hyperbole. What I offer is security: for mages, for non-mages, for the future of this country. Because no matter how many monsters we kill, there will be more, and no matter how much... Research, if you can call it that... Continues on the subject of Corruption, people..." Her voice cracked. She swallowed. "People will continue to die. And blood will be on the hands of those who failed to act. Including mine."

The Witchfinder stepped quietly from the dais, her eyes wide, wet, and blinking.

wc: 549

Miriam glanced down at Jericho, arching a smooth brow. A showman, accusing her of being even remotely the same. She tilted her chin up, balancing the wells of tears on her lids until they became a glaze over her eyes.

"Young man, you make a grievous error in judgment if you accuse me of crocodile tears. To peacock at a time like this is nothing short of obscene." She approached the dais once again. "To address your more salient points, it was not I who decided to call upon mages to fight. That was Hagia, and His Majesty, and the establishment that will continue to be upheld by Prince Sabora and amplified by Enchanter Guro. You don't wish to fight for me? Good. I don't want you to fight for me either. We are in agreement that the current system has failed most utterly. As for whatever self-indulgent grandstanding just occurred on this floor..." 

Miriam stretched her neck as she stepped backward. Her nostrils flared. "I hope you've received the attention you're looking for. And that your dignity was worth it."

wc: 181

Lasair’s eyes flared open as Witchfinder Miriam stepped down to address her personally, an expression that immediately turned narrow at the unsubtle accusations that she held magic. Acidic panic mixed with hatred – her magic hid her horn and wings, that she was sure of, had checked and checked again before joining the forum. The insinuations that her argument was inherently selfish had agonizingly hit its mark, but to continue and call it small-minded cowardice made her fur bristle in malicious contempt.

She felt Basileios next to her stiffen in apprehension, all too familiar with her murderous mood, and she glanced at him just once, a moment’s consideration before she took the stage again. One nod was all it took for her to stew her response behind her teeth.

Much to her surprise, it was Jericho who took the first response back. Affection for the way he stood her ground on her behalf cut through her violent mindset, and she had to fight a smile as he nodded to her points. It went far to curtailing her venom, and when she took the stand again, it was as the social paragon the Andrastes were known for, beloved and wrought with loyalty for home and country.

“You return honest query with insults, Madam Miriam.” She said, her chin raised high. “How can you call a desire for peace between mages and nonmages selfishness?”

I wish, more fervently now than ever, that I had magic to fight with. I would gladly have joined the mages in the fray had I the strength to! We have known for years now that nothing can pierce the hide of the beasts that haunt us but magic!” Her voice carried over the crowd, passionate like a banner raised to the cause. “There is nothing you nor I can do when the next attack comes, nothing nomages can do but flee. If we had weapons strong enough to withstand them, the crown would have used them, and gladly, rather than throw well-trained lives away. You say that you did not ask mages to fight for you, but our city would have been reduced to rubble and cinder without them, and would not be standing now without mages to quickly reconstruct the damage. You call yourself an educator, a woman of reason and learning, so tell me who would have stood a chance beyond those who answered the call!

You have talent with evacuation, with saving lives, that I cannot deny. But when the next monster appears within your ideally helpless Order, who will bring the monster down? Spears, arrows, useless cannonfire? You criticize the king himself for doing his duty and saving our lives with the Order! If you plan to rid us of our only viable weapon against the corrupted beasts, I demand to know your plan! Answer us plainly! What preventative measures will you put in place against monstrous violence beyond evacuation? What methods do you have to take them down! We would all wish we did not have to rely on magic, but to call their selfless bravery to the battlefield useless is tantamount to blind idiocy!” 

She took a breath from her passionate volume, staring Witchfinder Miriam down. “You have a duty to us all by vying for the position of Archmage. You wish mages to be well removed, separated and made harmless to the rest of Ivras, but without knowing the cause of corruption, it will happen again. Tell us how you plan to fight the monsters without magic, Madam.

I, for one, have never held less faith in an educator who scorns the concept of research.” She uttered. “I refuse to be afraid for the well-being of my city if you have taken the position without a clear path to bettering our lives.” 

Lasair sabotages Witchfinder Miriam. (631)

The Witchfinder was not rattled by the raised hackles of a young girl. Eyes dry, she allowed Lasair to say her piece, then took her place once again on the dais.

"Miss," she replied, her voice even, "You seem to have mistaken a blunt explanation of my ideology for an insult. It isn't personal..." Her tone took on a new warmth. "It's actually quite the opposite. I'm asking you to think. Look at the facts, and think about it with a clear mind. You rail against me as if I'm withholding answers from you, but I believe you're smart enough to figure it out yourself. We're wasting time thinking about how best to defeat monsters, how to meet another attack, what options we have to face the inevitable. But why should we, when we could remove the inevitability entirely? If you need me to, I'll answer you plainly: under my leadership, there will be no need for countermeasures against monsters. The process will be gradual, as any great upheaval must be, but ultimately, regulation will work."

Miriam took a breath, deep in her chest. "My trouble with the current research being done on the nature of Corruption is not that it's being done. As you say, I am a scholar. I value reason. My trouble is that the studies overseen by Prince Sabora are nothing but palliative bookmarks. They do not intend to solve the problem; they intend to put flimsy bandages over it, obscuring the fact that nothing is changing with hollow promises while lives continue to be lost! The Prince and their Council do not have what it takes to do what needs to be done. They are afraid," she said, glancing over at Sabora, "And, I'm sorry, but they are weak. The fact is that monsters are mages. The worm that casts a shadow over this city is Archmage Hagia. She was like all of you, once. A woman with feelings, hopes, dreams. She died, wretched. And I tell you that this is preventable, if we just have the courage to do what is necessary and cut off Corruption at its source."

"The choice," said the Witchfinder, addressing the crowd again, "Is not between 'fighting monsters with mages' or 'fighting monsters with nothing.' The choice is between the easy, ineffective road -- refusing to monitor the progress of corruption and leaving magic unregulated -- and the hard road that requires sacrifice and takes us to the peace you and I both so desperately seek."

wc: 401

Cornelia hated politics. This wasn’t her crowd, being a non-mage among a sea of colorful mages. The scenery alone was just enough to curl her lip but, as a lady, she had an appearance to uphold.

What a drab experience this was turning out to be though. There was an itch of excitement that lay just beneath her pelt, begging and aching to be scratched. So far though, no one here was offering relief. Of course every mage was chomping at the bit to defy Miriam, preferably wanting the simple, easy choices that were Sabora and Guro. How boring. She wanted nothing more than to go about her day… but the uncomfortable look on her companion’s face was enough drive to push her to speak.

“Ahem.”

Her voice projected loftily, poised with a noble air that made the mare next to her cringe.

“It seems as such that no one here knows how to respond with reason. Jumping to conclusions without second thought, crying out like lost children seeking their dams.” Sharp green eyes scanned pointedly at the crowd, her chin lifted high as she dared to speak against a gathering of mostly mages. “Of course, none of you would see that Miriam here wants nothing more than order and success, a duty that’s been failed to accomplish with the passing of dear Archmage Hagia.” The mare paused, closing her eyes as if she was sending a silent prayer to the heavens for the deceased camelid.

“Fact is, there hardly seems to be any room of thought for not only non-mages but those whose businesses were ruined by Corruption’s destruction. Mine and my daughter’s company, one that’s been long standing and faithful to the Crown for years, took immense damage thanks to magic that was out of control. Lives were lost. And who’s to say that it could happen again, without warning? It would simply be a shame for our beloved country to fall victim to such destruction due to mages having no limits to their power... Perhaps,” she hummed carefully, eyes flitting back to those standing in front of the Palace. “Perhaps there are those who would want nothing more than for magic to overrun Ivras and threaten us all.”

Cornelia straightened her back, avoiding looking at the crowd once more, aside from a few glances she sent to the ones already spoken up. “Either way, I believe that Miriam has the best interest for all of Ivras when she speaks of regulation. Indeed, some sacrifices should be made in order to guarantee a bountiful, safe future for us all.”

Cornelia supports Miriam (431)

Even when Guro stilled her tongue, she was never particularly quiet. She was breathing like a bull as she took her place on the dais, emitting a low but constant busyness of discontented grumbles and unimpressed snorts.  When she arrived, she cleared her throat all the way to the podium, flexing taut and bristled lips around pink, stained ivory.

This was not a battleground of Guro's choosing. She'd made a career seizing victory by the throat rather than the heart; captivating crowds and comparing essays with her fellow candidates were not skills she'd ever cared to cultivate. That was why she had to be here. Ivras didn't need a speaker now. It needed a warrior.

Someone in the crowd angrily threw her name at her, and Guro stiffened but did not acknowledge the insult. She needed to be focused. As she made a wet sound in her agitated throat, Guro tried not to look at the assembled audience, their expectant gazes, their thinly-veiled suspicion. She kept her attention on her opponents, as always: Sabora, posing smugly as if for his next royal portrait, and Miriam, sternly clutching her delusion.  Guro's jowls continued to quiver, something building up inside them.

"All this talking," she said, her low voice churning out of her. Beneath her grisly cuirass (made of the aged, horrific pelt of her first kill, a testament to her deadly career) her skin twitched with agitation, as if throwing off flies.

There was bile in her voice as she continued. Her narrow, yellowed eyes were fixed on Miriam: "When all you want to do is..." Guro smacked her lips. "Make your kingdom's past mistakes all over again. You learned nothing from history."

"It's a fact that the Order was created by Ivras's kings to fight the Wild Clans." Her beady gaze swung to Sabora, indicating the prince as the prospering heir to that bloody conflict. " It's a fact that crusades against mages create monsters. It's a fact that monsters did not plague this land until the Order existed."

"The Wild Clans have always had magic. Their traditions curbed the creation of monsters such as these for hundreds of generations before Ivras had a king."

She was getting to the end of the statement she'd come prepared to give. She would be improvising soon. She could feel sweat on her back. Her face contorted unflatteringly as she turned on stout, powerful legs to address the crowd.  

"The Order should be using the old knowledge of the Wild Clans, developing mages naturally, and killing monsters. When politics interfere, when outside forces try to use and cultivate mages, you end up with Hagia." Guro spat the former Archmage's name out like a curse.

"The crown has failed. Imprisonment has failed. I will not fail."

(461 words)