The Black Iron Grand Assembly Hall was packed. Five hundred hardwood chairs were crammed together, and even turning a shoulder meant checking the expression of the person beside you first.
Just then, the side door opened.
Light slanted through the gap as Louis walked onto the platform, facing the first glow of dawn beyond the windows.
He wore a dark cloak, without gilding or unnecessary ornament, fastened at the collar with a simple insignia.
Morning light fell across his shoulders, tracing his silhouette in sharp relief.
The scattered noises in the hall naturally began to fade.
Louis came to a stop and surveyed the audience. Five hundred faces were crowded almost cheek to cheek: young faces, weary faces, sharp-eyed faces, and faces still not entirely accustomed to their surroundings...
After looking around, he lifted the corners of his mouth in a gentle smile. "A little crowding isn't a bad thing. On those first blizzard nights in the Northern Frontier, this was how we huddled together for warmth."
A few people in the front row unconsciously shifted their shoulders, as though his words had stirred old memories.
"A few years ago, the Northern Frontier was a place where nothing could survive," Louis continued, without deliberately raising his voice. "The wind could knock you down, and the snow could bury your corpse. But now there are factories billowing steam, piping-hot underfloor heating, and schools where children learn to read."
He paused, allowing the picture to form naturally in everyone's minds.
"Some say this is a miracle Louis brought about." He shook his head. "No, they're wrong. Uh, this is the Red Tide's miracle."
For a moment after those words, the hall was silent.
"This glory belongs to me, and to this banner." Louis raised a hand toward the insignia behind him. "But