1821 EY
Poetyr looked upon those assembled for the constitutional convention, seeing a combination of unease at an uncertain future and eagerness to get there, the fear and anger of those who had come to realize that the future was as certain as a lancer bearing down upon you when you had naught but an empty musket and a broken bayonet, and the smugness of knowing the future was as certain as a lancer bearing down on a defeated infantryman.
"Now, to begin this convention, I think that before the standard preamble about what we are hear for and all of that, I should address the tiger behind the couch: liquor," Poetyr began, getting a mild chuckle from those in attendance, although it was clearly more significant among those who had attended the last convention. "As we all know, the last time we had a convention there were... issues. So, first of all, the bureaucrats have been informed that they are to continue all activities as directed until otherwise informed by changes to the constitution. No failure to collect taxes this time. I have also ensured that there will be a Royal Ration of liquor secured for everyone in the kingdom to toast the end of the convention, but that obviously we shall not be subsidizing the drying of the entire kingdom. For those at the convention I do promise that the palace stocks are full and additional space is being made for new shipments each day. This is because I feel a need to put my foot down, while simultaneously giving an incentive for excellence. For the duration of the convention there shall be no drinking."
There were gasps and cries of outrage, and at least one man fainted dead away within the crowd. Poetyr immediately raised his hands to placate them and said, "Again, there is a light at the end of the tunnel! Once this convention has finished it's reward the stocks shall be opened, and since it will continue to fill with each day, this means that the more time we take in deliberating and drafting, the better the party shall be at the end. So don't think that just quickly ramming something through will get you anywhere, especially since I know that many of you are not such incorrigible souses that you could not hold the lack of liquor over your rival's heads during negotiations."
That got a collection of weak chuckles and worried looks.
"Alright now, now that that is out of the way, let us move on to the problems at hand," Poetyr said with wicked joviality.
Several Weeks Later
Consciousness was slow to return. Intellectually Poetyr knew that he could not have possibly got as drunk as he had last time, but still the pain in his head and joints and spotty memory was indicative that such a thing had happened. Through blurry vision he spied people sprawled across the great hall, draped about on the furniture and just starting to stir and pick themselves up, the few standing stumbling about in a stupor. Ugh... the last thing he remembered was raising a toast to the signing of the constitutional amendment, and then...
Bringing his right hand up to massage his forehead, he ended up smacking himself and smearing something sticky all over his cheek. Turning drunkenly to consider what he had stuck his hand in, he found that focus was not coming to his eyes like they should. Getting old and not being able to bounce back from drinking like he once had was for the birds.
Oh.
Huh.
Getting his eyes to focus on what was immediately in front of him, Poetyr worked out three things. The first was that the problems with focus mostly had to do with the layer of grey dust coating him. The second was that the lighting was all wrong, so instead of daylight or chandelier light there was moonlight and firelight. The third was that his hand was missing.
The lightheaded feeling he had was probably not a hangover but blood loss. Glancing down, he noted other wounds upon his body.
A strange half-giggle, half bloody-cough escaped his lips. He had the sudden feeling of strangeness in that his last words would probably be recorded as his congratulation on the constitution or possibly some made up final heroic order, rather than his actual final word.
"Shit."
The King and Crown Prince have been killed at an explosion at the Constitutional Convention! Long live Nokly I of the Ymaryn-Gylruvian Dual Monarchy!
Nokly was numb. He scratched at the bandage over the left side of his face, the reminder from an assassin's pistol that almost took his life. His grandfather, dead. Father and mother, dead. He still had siblings and aunts and uncles, but they had been injured and more than a few were in hiding due to the violence and uncertainty. Weihar...
Tears of raw emotion came to his eyes, fighting through the exhausted numbness. It gave him the strength to actually pay attention to the world around him. He had long slacked in his studies for his own reasons, but he knew that he had to pay attention to what the various vicious little bureaucrats were telling him.
"We don't know if the explosion was intentional - it might have been a mistake since the palace armoury kept the guns and powder separate so someone may have been storing powder improperly for use when launching a surprise attack - but and the riots and assassinations - and attempts - after are obvious signs of conspiracy to attack and overthrow the king. We actually think that there were multiple, independent and non-coordinating conspiracies, which adds into the idea that while the intent was violence the explosion itself was an accident. The spread of the riots and insurrections and their subsequent crushing points towards a lack of organization and coordination, and general surprise among their ranks," the Minister of the King's Court explained, numerous pages spread out before him and the other ministers showing the notes that had been taken in the initial part of the investigation.
"Just tell me who needs a death warrant signed," Nokly spat bitterly.
The Ministers looked among each other and then said, "That, my king, is actually a rather complex question, because we quite frankly have simultaneously no leads and too many leads. Guild leaders were clearly involved, but whether they were the ones behind the explosion itself is likely impossible to prove. Wyrmyn Republican extremists are almost certainly involved, but getting a few to join up so you can pin the blame on them is pathetically easy. Some of the weaponry recovered came from other nations, but the gunsmiths are considered enemies by many other guilds so it isn't exactly inconceivable that some radicals might have stocked up from foreign suppliers to spite them. It is also possible that foreign agents were involved, with the intent to weaken us, or to get us to turn against a third party by planting evidence against them. Essentially, at this point, we can point to any party we want and it will be plausible."
Nokly glared with his one uncovered eye and demanded, "But what is true?"
The ministers all shrugged and said, "We cannot determine what is 'true', at least not in any reasonable time frame, and if we do not provide a culprit in short order, the people will accept the idea that their neighbours are at fault. Extraordinary action will be required to restore order, where having an external enemy to blame for these woes will get them focused elsewhere."
"How extraordinary?" Nokly demanded.
"Restriction of the rights to public assembly, restrictions to the publishers, restrictions on movement..." another minister explained, ticking off the items on his fingers. Nokly's stomach curdled at that.
Pick someone to blame for all this
[] Former Guilds (Removes many liberal positions from constitution)
[] Wyrmyn (Starts a dark path...)
[] Vortuga (Plausible, Khemetri willing to coordinate against nearby holdings)
[] Nohon (-1 Trust, Implausible but Nohon have few friends, Hung willing to coordinate but targets are far away)
[] Kielmyr (-2 Trust, Possible but Unlikely, Former Allies but could be jealous, declares Rivalry rather than war right away)
[] Sketch (-1 Trust, Possible but Not Likely, declares Rivalry rather than war right away, most dangerous possible target)
