Author Topic: Musings on the People of Dementlieu and the Events that Transpire within Her...  (Read 65 times)

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Musings on the People of Dementlieu and the Events that Transpire within Her Spacious and Breadthful Borders, and Regarding the Happenings in Her Gentle Heart, the Great City of Port-au-Lucine, from the Year 775 BC unto Her Bright and Shining Future.

By Jacques Boucher.


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Rapport d'Activité: July 4th, 775 BC.
Location: Countryside southeast of Port-au-Lucine.
Activity: Conversation; Thoughts and musings.
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Entry

“I will use this knowledge to see the ideals of my country realized. I will fight to bring liberty, peace, and prosperity to Her lands, and to bring such change to other lands in Her honor.”

“Then… You -have- to train. I know you know, and you are… But, Jacques… You will die in the deployment, or get seriously injured.”

“I am aware. I will do everything in my power to prepare.”

“Ask… Ask for permission to have free entry and exit of the country for a time. You won’t learn what you need to simply watching people fight sewer bugs.”

“Madamoiselle, I cannot abandon my country in Her hour of need. To do so would be the gravest of insults. And if there was ever a time where I must be present to serve, it is now. Seditious forces run amok in our streets. The pall of Falkovnia has already spread over Her borders.”

“You aren’t abandoning her. You’re serving her to your best if you go properly train. How much good will you be able to do if you die on the deployment because you weren’t able to train? Use the Vistani caravans - you can travel quickly in those.”

“... I am afraid such an opportunity may have past, mademoiselle.”

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   As winter embraces the shores of the Baie de Sable in earnest, I find it proper to do as the flowers do, and turn inward and examine my life and the world around me. The proud citizens of the capital city have donned their furs and thick coats, and taken to the warmth and comfort of the various coffee shops, tea houses, and public spaces to wax sentimentally about the year as it has been thus far. Many of the more well-to-do folk and those of noble inclination remain gathered on the Terraces of the Quartier Publique, sharing amongst themselves and their neighbors current events in their lives as well as the latest styles in Dementlieuese fashion. Huddled together under the evening lanterns, they make a dazzling spectacle of color and light, and the red glow on their faces reflect the joy and cheer in their minds. For some in the city, however, the apple radiance in their cheeks and in their noses are only a mask.One need look no further than the lower districts to see this ring true. The faces of the working class are marred by hardship and toil, many working long hours in poor conditions, only to take their meager wages back to their woefully inadequate dwellings with the hope of subsisting until the harsh and bitter winter passes. All the while they see the fruits of their hard labor presented to those far above them in wealth and status. For many of the poor, there is no room for prosperity, no opportunity to improve the condition of their existence. The relationship between the working poor and their employers is a negotiation of money for labor, and in exchange for their labor, it is the responsibility of the employer to compensate employees their due share. But the wealth is placed in the hands of the employer, as are the means of productions used for labor. With this power in their hands, the employer wields considerable power in negotiations, and when men are tempted by the promise of personal gain, it is difficult for most to turn away. Thus, the negotiations are lopsided, and ubiquitously slated in the favor of the employer, at the cost of the employee’s justly due earnings. This conflict is by no means unique to Dementlieu; after all, the struggle between the rich and the poor has existed ever since man first traded grains for pelts, or any other good for another. But what is unique to Dementlieu is our gentle nature. We are a civilized lot, and a sense of justice is inherent to us. Hence, the outrage of this circumstance is known to all but the most sheltered; it is a rare day indeed for one to go without hearing of talks of reform, the accusations of corruption, and the invocation of our cultural heritage - revolution.

   Wherefore then does one oppose such calls to action? If we are a just people, and there is injustice within our borders, then are we not obliged by birthright to stamp out disparity between our people? No, such talk is folly. The strength of our nation is derived from the unity of its people, as evidenced by our grand constitution. The people are imbued with the right to vote, to have say in the direction of their country, and with our vote we define the course of history. Every man in our great nation deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. In the eyes of the law, we ought to all be considered equal. However, if one seeks extrajudicial means of altering our country, not only do they injure their mark - they slight the whole of our populace as well. Not only are we a just people, but we are a noble one. Wanton violence is tantamount of degeneracy, fit only for the barbaric tribes of Barovia, or the savage tyrant of Falkovnia. Every drop of Dementlieuese blood spilt by the hand of his brother stains the dirt and tarnishes the majesty of our Grande Republique. Every widow, every orphaned child, every life left unlived, is a cost too steep. Even in the pursuit of justice, we must be noble in our means, and we must honor every man and woman of Dementlieu as we would our own, for in Her eyes we are one, and together, as one, lies the path to peace, to justice and prosperity - and no other path. I do not promise to know the answer to our plight, but what I do know is that we must show grace and nobility proper of Dementlieuese citizens.

  Of course, this brings me to another threat to our beautiful nation, this one from beyond her borders - and dreadfully, now encroaching within them. Long has the country of Falkovnia been a threat to our civilization, and not merely materially. The Falkovnian heritage is one of brutality and chaos, of viciousness and hellish cruelty in single minded pursuit of domination. They are, in essence, the antithesis to the ideals of our glorious nation, and so long as they pollute the earth with their foul presence do they pose an existential threat to our way of life. Even now the Falkovnian tide batters at our doorstep, laying bloody siege to our country. If we are to survive this ordeal, the Bloody Hawk must be crushed, utterly and completely. It is our duty, to our country and to the world, to depose that tyrant king Vlad Drakov, and cast from the world the shackles of fear he has cast upon it. However, military victory is not enough. We must free ourselves of the burden that lies in trade with the bastard country. We have grown far too dependent on Falkovnian grain for sustenance, and with each solar spent do we burden ourselves with another Falkovnian soldier, and put another weapon in Drakov’s greedy paw. And if no true change is made, all that waits in Falkovnia’s future is another tyrant to succeed the Bloody Hawk. To me, the solution is clear: our nation must drive back the Falkovnian scourge and press on into her blasted lands, and wrest every acre from Drakov’s bloody grasp. In doing so, we take the reins of our future in both hands, and present the battered slaves of Falkovnia the choice to raise themselves upward. There is little to be said in the way of nobility among the Falkovnian people, but I believe there is no country better suited to the task of civilizing that backward country than ours.

"My soul is overflowing with obeisant reverence, and Your Most Illustrious Excellency of benignity, to you I most humbly bow." -Francesco Ferdinando Alfieri.