You are humming. Vibrating, perhaps, but not shaking. An opening to deliver a speech has come. You are emerging, appearing from the crowds of senators and lords high and low and into the clearing where the speakers go. You move slowly, trying not to be clumsy or slip into the Sejm camp's mud with your one leg. Every arm-straining step forward on your crutches count; even if men wouldn't laugh in your face were you to stumble – how could they? – you must show yourself to be as strong as ever. A hush slides like a wave over the crowd as you make your way to the center, spreading front-to-back. The Sejm Marshal Sienicki, though a Piast, nods to you with respect, and rises from his seat; the other seated ministers and clergymen and whoever else had the opportunity to obtain a chair stand, too. Your supporters begin to applaud, hailing Stanisław "Ajax," while your detractors merely clap.
In, out. You have spent the past three days watching the ebb and flow of the Sejm in relative silence, taking notes by day and forming a skeleton for your speech by night. The rhetorical lines of both factions have changed very little. Everything should go according to plan.
"My lords," you yell out, placing yourself in the lower register of your voice, trying to boom. "Before liberty and our God do we stand here today, the first day of the exercising of our inviolable and sacred rites to the election of the king!" Who can't cheer to that?
You recall your notes on how to begin after this little preamble:
[] With a story of the Romans (Rolman picks).
[] With a story of the Romans (write-in).
[] With a story from the Book (Rolman picks).
[] With a story from the Book (write-in).
[] No need for flair – speak of the practicalities straightforwardly.