Chapter Forty-Six Appease the Masses
Chapter Forty-Six
Appease the Masses
Protestors Released from Marnapur Jail After Ten Days of Riots
This morning, the protestors who broke and entered into the House of Representatives were released with all charges dropped.
This comes after ten days of destruction and defiance from the Virian populace.
Workers across the colony have abandoned the fields and factories, spilling over Morning Bridge to demand that their voices be heard in the selection process of Viryana’s next viceroy.
“I think it’s an outrage, frankly,” James Alderfort said in a statement made earlier this week. “With these riots, we have no workers to tend the fields, plus the domestic supply chain has been disrupted by road closures and looting. The economic consequences can’t be ignored.”
Superintendent Nottingham refused to comment on whether the Marnapur police’s inability to subdue the rioters had any impact on the decision to free the trespassers.
“These delinquents have been emboldened by our viceroy’s death,” Nottingham told reporters.
“Without strong leadership, we can expect more chaos.”
The Special Committee will resume its hearing to select the new viceroy this Tuesday.
In an unprecedented turn of events, six protestors will be permitted to sit in on the hearing and cast their own ballots.
House Leader Colwick declined to make a statement on their inclusion.
Only time will tell what ramifications this concession will have on Virian society.
· · ·
Eleven days after the vote on succession was disrupted, the House of Representatives reconvened. In addition to the lingering gasoline fumes, stains shadowed the carpet, and the wooden desks and chairs were scratched and scarred.
However, not all of the changes were for ill.
Six wooden chairs had been added to the U-bend for Hasan and his delegation.
The representatives pinned them with outright hostile looks, but not a single delegation member faltered when they stood and asked the clerk to record their vote in favor of Poppy.
That being done, the rest of the representatives began to vote, starting from the beginning again.
Some of the favorable votes, Poppy expected—the Greenwoods, Theodore—but others came as a surprise.
There were also votes she had expected to have that she’d lost. She tried to keep her expression placid throughout, but each nay punched through her like a rod being shoved through her body, until she was riddled with holes.
Finally, the clerk finished with the Wainwrights, and the vote was over.
Under her breath, Poppy counted the number of men still standing.
She wasn’t the only one. Theodore’s lips moved in an echo of hers as he counted too.
Even Lord Whitecliff had his neck craned, taking note of the number of people on their feet.
“I have now finished the tally,” the clerk said.
Bile rose in Poppy’s throat. This moment would decide her future.
What would happen to her if she lost this?
Desperate, she cast her gaze to Theodore, but Hasan intercepted her gaze.
His face was composed, unbothered, but she still remembered the language of his body.
His jaw was set, his limbs perfectly still: He was just as anxious as she was.
Her heart beat so loudly, she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear the numbers when the clerk said them.
“The number of representatives who voted aye: fifty-four. Majority rules.”
Relief rushed through Poppy in a cold breath, so intense it was painful.
Her entire body went soft and numb. She had never been so grateful to be sitting in her whole life.
She had done it—against all odds, she had gotten the votes.
Her eyes met Hasan’s again, his expression mirroring her thoughts: If he and his delegation had not been here, she would have lost.
“Given the sensitive nature of the vote,” Lord Colwick continued, “the lords will vote now, for efficiency and transparency. The representatives who are still standing may sit down.”
She sucked in another breath. Of course. She’d nearly forgotten. There was one more round of voting to be done, and Hasan would not be able to influence this one.
The representatives took a seat, and the lords rose. Poppy’s heart was now drumming so hard against her rib cage, she feared it would burst. She curled her toes in their slippers, unable to show any other sign of her immense stress without giving herself away.
“Lord Alderfort,” the clerk called.
“Nay,” Alderfort said.
She closed her eyes briefly. Damn. She was going to lose.
She needed three votes, and she had already lost one.
It was so bitterly unfair, that her father had named her his heir, the way his forefathers had named theirs before him, but she would be the first to get vetoed.
The double standard was so infuriatingly obvious.
She clenched her jaw so hard, she feared her teeth would shatter.
But she wouldn’t hide from her defeat. She would face it with her eyes wide open.
“Lord Colwick.”
The other man studied Poppy, his expression blank. She wished he would just say nay and move on, instead of dragging out the disappointment. Then, he said, “Aye.”
She blinked. Aye?
Lord Montrose was next. “Aye,” he spat, but his cold look made one thing clear: This was not support. This was a fulfilment of their deal, his voice for her silence, and nothing more. If she lost her seat tomorrow, he wouldn’t say a word.
Lord Whitecliff was openly staring at Lord Montrose, surprise evident on his face.
He’d been expecting Montrose to say no. Poppy could see him recalculating.
His was the deciding vote, and the pressure was bone crushing.
Poppy wanted him to say it—aye or nay, anything, just to release her from the agony of suspense.
“Lord Whitecliff?” the clerk prompted. “Your vote, please?”
“Aye,” he said.
“What?” Lord Alderfort looked appalled. “Arthur, you—”
“Gentlemen,” Lord Colwick said, “let’s not forget that the House is in session. We must maintain a level of decorum.”
“The vote is decisive,” the clerk declared. “Poppy Sutherland will be the next—nay, the first vicereine of Viryana.”
A wave of cold electricity swept through Poppy, snapping through cords of tension that held her taut like marionette strings. She slumped in her chair, boneless with giddy joy. The room was roaring—or maybe that was her pulse, rushing in her ears.
“Lords, gentlemen, this session is concluded,” Lord Colwick said. “House dismissed.”
The representatives rose, filing out single file. Poppy floated through the doors, weightless, suspended in disbelief. When she emerged into the foyer, Catherine and Demetria paused their pacing.
“Well?” her mother demanded.
Poppy ran and buried her face in the shoulder of Demetria’s black gown. Sobs ambushed her, rendering her incapable of speech.
“She did it,” Theodore said from behind her. “Poppy will be vicereine.”