Many signs might be auspicious, but after some consideration you feel that only one truly represents your position here. It was not by leadership or by partnership that you came to power in Ulsan, but by the profligate use of Essence. You indicate the dress marked with the Sign of the Sorcerer, and hold back a sigh as a familiar inverted scene plays out: trying to pay for goods that an obsequious merchant is trying to give you for free, seeing your favor as more valuable than silver. You've learned from experience to insist on paying to avoid setting precedents, but not insist absolutely in face of true generosity. This is more flattery than generosity, though, so you slam down money on the tailor's desk as she insists the clothes aren't a proper fit and she shouldn't be accepting money for such inferior garments. (The garments are superior to what most Ulsanese wear.)
Craftsman Needs No Tools! The fit changes and the stitches adjust themselves beneath your hands with a minute's concentration, threads leaping to obey your will.
With that finally out of the way, you make your way back to the former Tyrant's palace. Perhaps you should rename it one of these days, and remodel it and rededicate it, though you'd have to make a decision on which god or cause it should be dedicated to. And check whether the Tyrant built it or merely took it over. If he built it, it should perhaps be torn down for housing. So many things to do. But right now, you need sleep.
Sleep comes swiftly and dreamlessly that night, thank Luna.
-
Sleep is unfortunately short. You went to bed late after the day's exertions, and early in the morning, you twitch awake with keenly-honed reflexes at the sound of someone attempting to sneak into your room. It's no black-clad assassin, merely a blue-clad servant bringing up breakfast from the kitchens. Hot breakfast, judging by the servant using mitts to gingerly move the cloth-wrapped pot from a kitchen cart to your side table. It's worth appreciating, really, not getting upset about, you tell yourself. Waking up to the scent of still-warm breakfast half an hour later would be very pleasant.
You try to lie in bed, sniffing the boiled vegetables and fish, but it's just not the same. So you eat breakfast, rinse with the water provided, put on the full suite of sorcerous garb, and check your face in a polished bronze mirror before heading out to see what's wrong with Ulsan today.
As it turns out, things are starting to go right. Which is to say that Prakash is waiting for you with a written report from the Public Works Committee, and only genuflects once before describing how the Public Works Committee has made a good start on setting soldiers to clear and dredge the harbors and docks of the city. A few of them with woodworking and shipbuilding skills have also started work on building a few new smallboats, initially by using the keels of salvaged wrecks as the base. Prakash hopes that the soldiers with these skills can return to being craftsmen in the near future, and says he wants to see about logging and securing a wood supply next. You compliment him on doing good work and showing initiative.
"I really can't take the credit." Prakash says modestly. "There's seven of us on the Committee now, and everyone contributed to the discussion."
"Seven? Who did you add?"
"A woman calling herself Dipa, who used to be part of a group smuggling goods in and people out of the city under the Tyrant's rule. Jyoti recommended her." He goes quiet. You look at him expectantly. He looks back at you uncertainly. "Did we do something wrong? You said the committe could appoint more people."
"I appointed you to be in charge of the Committee for Public Works, that's one." You tick off the people on your fingers as you speak. "I recruited Chanda from the palace, Nikhil, Jyoti, and Tushar from outside, that's five. The Committee appointed Dipa, that's six. Who's the seventh?"
"Nitin. Tall man, short hair, colorful clothes, uses a walking stick. Didn't you recruit him? He showed up with the other people and said he was here to join the committee."
"No, I did not."
"Should we kick him out?"
"Well..." On the one hand, you need useful help quickly after shattering the old organization, on the other hand, you don't want to give people the impression that positions of power are there for the taking by anyone who says so, and a mischievous third thought says:
If he wants to work for you so badly, draft him.
[] [NITIN] Order him kicked off the Committee for Public Works, with punishment as they see fit.
[] [NITIN] He fits in and he's proven himself useful, he can stay on the Committee for Public Works.
[] [NITIN] Write-in? Give him some other task?
After the report on the Committee's progress, Prakash smoothly continues reporting other things. Several of the newly loyal soldiers have been collating their gossip and reporting to Prakash stuff they found of interest, since he's the only intermediate point of contact they have at the moment. (So many things to do: pick someone like an Interior Minister or Spymaster to handle this.) There have been some incendiary Immaculate preachers badmouthing you, whom the soldiers brutalized into silence. (
So many things to deal with, you think.) There's a great many would-be petitioners who are hoping you'll hold court to hear their requests. There's a great many other people fleeing the city. Upcoming soldier pay is a topic of repeated discussion, and the palace finances are still virtually nonexistent. Chanda wants you to know that the kitchen is still making and sending food to the prisoners in the dungeons. The 6th Talon should be returning from patrol today, and perhaps you'll want to meet them. Some of your subordinates are wondering whether you plan to take a side in the religious strife in the city.
While Prakash is describing the conflict between partisans of the Maidens, the Immaculates, and Kamakanta, the briefing is interrupted by half a dozen soldiers and the old man Ranjit from yesterday, barging in on you and talking over each other as they try to report the same event. Ranjit's complaint is that a mob has taken his niece and wants to put her on trial. The common soldiers that Ranjit first reported this to are more focused on the fact that the alleged crime of said niece is 'collaboration' with the soldiery, and they don't like the idea of that being a crime. The martinet of an officer leading the interruption is making a big deal of the fact that this whole incident constitutes a challenge to your authority.
The fourth perspective that comes to your mind is that she probably isn't the first they've kidnapped, and if lynch mobs are going after people for ill-defined charges of collaboration with
subordinates of the Tyrant who ruled for
years, the streets are going to run red. This has to stop, now. "Lead me to them. Run!" you bark at Ranjit, and he sets off at far greater speed than expected from a man his age, driven by hope and desperation. The soldiers follow in your wake.
You arrive at a plaza filled with the impromptu pageantry of an improvised trial. There's a woman tied to a pole who must be the niece in question. There's three important-looking people in formal dress, two men and a woman, who seem to be magistrates of a sort presiding over the proceedings. A woman in front of the magistrates is in a quasi-prosecutorial role of pointing at the tied-up woman and accusing her of... making and repairing uniforms for the Tyrant's soldiers, by the sound of it. A man with an elaborate two-handed pike is standing next to the pole, glaring at the niece. The pike's tip is bloodstained, suggesting he's an executioner and has already killed someone. A man with a portable scribe's desk is taking notes of the whole thing. Around them all, a crowd has gathered to watch, some of them shouting crude suggestions for punishment.
Authority-Radiating Stance!
"Halt." With that one word from your mouth, the proceedings stop, the crowd falls silent, and a few people genuflect.
Crisis averted.
Now: figuring out what to do next. You could simply order the niece set free and tell everyone else to disperse, but they'd probably try again another day once the awe of your presence wore off, and this is likely not the only such incident in the city. You wish you could see to trials yourself to find real collaborators, not tailors, but with the amount of other things in Ulsan demanding your attention it would be hard to justify spending time on this. On the other hand, it's also hard to justify letting anyone else be in charge of it, and you don't have a convenient supply of judges known to be trustworthy in your pocket. You consider using Charms like
Hypnotic Tongue Technique to instill lasting compulsions in the magistrates to be honest and ignore the baying of the mob, which would improve their judgement but still leaves a small chance of them
honestly deciding that people should die. Maybe if you asserted that you alone hold the power of life and death in this city, anyone else can at most to sentence people to your dungeons, you'd buy time while compounding another problem, albeit one that you were already planning to solve.
(+1 Stress.)
The crowd looks expectantly at you. Whatever you say here is sure to be repeated across the city like wildfire. What judgement do you give?
[] Order all such cases sent to yourself
[] Order all such cases sent to (choose someone)
[] Order collaborators sent unharmed to your dungeons for later disposal
[] Issue a general amnesty for all collaborators
[] Instill compulsions of honesty in the magistrates before letting them continue
[] Write-in: plans welcome
(OOC: The Nitin vote and the main vote are separate decisions.)
