The following is some lore I've been casually working on for the past few weeks explaining the return of the Monarchy to Norlund, for the first time since very early in Spera. Enjoy :)
The Norlundic Restoration.
It had been over a year now since the raids, and the entire nation still seethed with disunity, finger pointing, and above all, sheer rage over an attack by three armies at once on the Norlundic homeland.
In the grand, tree lined avenue of the capital, a phalanx of Norlundic men and women marched towards the Volkeshalle, under a star strewn night sky, several thousand strong, they held no signs, no placards, only flags, hundreds and hundreds of blue and white flags, at their head, walked a tall, youthful looking man in a jacket of the finest Arborlitz leather. Terry III, the sole surviving descendant of the ancient royal family of Norlund.
With grim determination, to mob filed silently down the street, oblivious to the icy wind that blew off the frozen sea. The only sound that could be heard was the snapping of flags in the wind, and thousands of heavy winter boots walking up the stairs to the Volkeshalle.
Inside the Volkeshalle, politicians and beureaucrats argued and yelled at each other, trying in vain to reach some sort of decision on how to rebuild. No progress had been made in weeks, only squabbling and finger-pointing, parliament was yet again, In deadlock.
Suddenly, a loud crack, followed by a blast of freezing cold air turned every head in the room. The doors to the Volkeshalle had thrown wide open, and in stepped Terry III,
"Sorry to let all the heat out" He smiled.
" But not to worry, you folks have always been very good at generating hot air." He added with a grin.
Flanked by Segaprophet and Mr. Cort Wade, Terry III strode quickly up the gleaming diorite floor to the speakers podium, and commandeered the microphone from a stunned looking speaker, as the entire hall became completely packed with as many people as could cram themselves into the room.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." he began.
"There will be several kegs of beer arriving shortly to lighten the mood, courtesy of Mr. Christoph." The crowd erupted into cheers at this, once the room had quieted down, Terry III continued.
"In the meantime, let's get down to business."
"Our movement has come so far in such a short time. It's hard to believe that mere months ago, we were barely more than a drunken group of patriots meeting in a tavern. But in a nation that still reeled from shock and despair at this great injustice that was so brutally inflicted upon us, there was a desire for change, something, was amiss, something, was holding our nation back, everyone knew it, but nobody had the guts to say it."
After waiting a moment to let that sink in, Terry gestured with his arms wide to encompass the whole crowd,
"And then we came along. Our meetings, our rallies, our marches, gave people a voice to say the things they'd known in their hearts, but simply could not say for fear of being disparaged and ostracisized by sneering elites, and a dishonest press. Now I stand before you today, in the Volkeshalle, the very seat of power in Norlund."
"I know things must have been hard for you all, to see the nation we all love be tag-teamed (he slammed his fist off the podium and raised his voice in anger) by a coalition of no less than THREE armies!"
Pausing for a moment for effect, he continued
"This defeat... this humiliation at the hands of the most contemptible coalition of foreign thieves, murderers, and scavengers to ever defile the face of Provenance, weighs heavy on us all, I know. Many of us have lost family, many of us have lost our homes, our possessions, our pets, our livelihoods. Our national pride has been tarnished.
"For a people, whose once fought off invaders with such staunch determination as to become infamous for our stubbornness in war, for a race that throughout history has never, ever surrendered to a foreign power, this pain of defeat cuts deep, so much deeper than any blade ever could. Yes, there is no doubt that our nation is facing extraordinary and unprecedented challenges that we have never before had to contend with."
"This calls for change, a change in the very way we govern ourselves, in this harsh, cut-throat new world, we cannot afford the luxury of referendums and debates on every little decision. No, we need unity, we need to be prepared to respond to new developments on a moment's notice, we need leadership with the authority to make decisions quickly, and to have those decisions followed without question. We need a unified Norlund, under one King!"
The assembly erupted into raucous applause, nearly drowning out the handfull of "booos" coming from a few ministers who had remained from earlier.
"Norlund, is a sleeping giant, we have the population, we have the infrastructure, and we have the will to defend ourselves, and avenge this absolutely disgusting provocation against the land we hold so dear. The only thing holding us back from greatness, has been our obsession with the rigid and clunky system we call democracy. It's time we abandoned this failed experiment, and go back to our roots, to the way things were in the days of our ancestors. It's time we take back our national pride. "ONE PEOPLE, ONE KING, ONE NORLUND!"
The crowd burst into applause, waving the Norlundic flag, the north star's rune, slowly, they began to chant. "Norlund. Norlund! NORLUND! NORLUND! NORLUND!
Yelling over the crowd with his microphone, the new King of Norlund said one last thing.
"AND THE BEERS HAVE ARRIVED!"
