Post by RICHARD PLANTAGENET on Sept 4, 2010 18:58:03 GMT -5
Stalin once said; “It’s not those who cast the votes that decide the outcome, but those who count them.” And this rang true in particular in the case of a man who would stop at nothing, not even murder, to reach his goals. Rigging the elections hadn’t been a problem for him in the slightest. It had merely been an inconvenience that George had steadily been gathering support; an inconvenience easily rectified. Despite his interference the vote had been a close one; anything less and people were sure to become suspicious.
Richard Plantagenet was, by this point in the proceedings, as happy as a cat that’d got the cream. He had done it. He’d murdered Edward, pinned the blame on Faustus, defeated George in the elections and, admittedly, had a lot of fun while doing so. He was the happiest he’d been in years.
That didn’t mean to say his good mood made others feel likewise. On the contrary he doubted some of the policies he planned to introduce would make the general populace remotely pleased, let alone joyous. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He needed to make a good first impression, and announcing precisely what he meant to do with the city would doubtless be an unwise move.
The people knew who he was, of course, so it was not a first impression in the usual sense. It was his first official speech as Mayor of New York City. Richard liked to consider himself a master of rhetoric, and was quite confident he’d managed to disguise his true intent with his words, just as he always did. Only this time he was under a lot more scrutiny. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not now. Not after all he’d done, after he’d made it this far.
Stepping up to the microphone festooned podium, the new Mayor was acutely aware of the thousands of eyes watching his every move. Just like they had done at Edward’s funeral. Richard inwardly shook his head to clear his thoughts of his late brother as he began to speak. Edward was dead and gone and he wasn’t coming back. So why was he still the subject of his thoughts? It wasn’t as though he was guilty. God forbid.
“My fellow citizens of New York. It is a great honour to be standing before you today as your new mayor, and I want to begin by thanking you all for your support throughout my campaign. I must admit I did not expect this privilege to be bestowed upon me but, as it has been, I am all the more determined to secure lasting peace and prosperity with all the powers at my disposal.”
A pause, to allow the words to sink in. He saw a few people nod, reporters frantically scribbling away.
“I will not deny that my late brother Edward did great things for this city. But I believe a change is essential if the current situation is to improve. Having been working with the government’s funds for so long I understand the economic situation to be in a dire state. This shall soon no longer be the case.”
Some impressed murmurs from the crowd. Richard inwardly smirked.
“As well as brightening the forecast of the economic climate, I intend to drastically decrease the level of crime occurring within the city on a daily basis. Criminal activities exist in every city but here, admittedly, the problem seems to flourish. This problem, with time, will cease to be, at least to the level it is at present.”
Yet more noises of encouragement from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye Richard noticed George, his expression a mixture of respect and awe he’d never seen him wear before. Of course, he didn’t know what Richard truly intended to do. No-one did. That didn’t mean to say that look wasn’t encouraging.
“I know that I shall achieve these aims, given time and the necessary tools with which to get the job done. I’m going to make changes in New York, changes for the better. All I ask for in return is your support in my endavours, for what is a great leader without the support of the people?”
An excellent note to end on, he noted mentally, the smiles and nods from the assembled crowd like jewels glimpsed through murky water. He’d managed to disguise his intentions well enough; no-one, for all outward appearances, seemed to suspect a thing.
These people thought they knew him, they thought they knew his feelings, his heart. But in truth they only knew his face. He graced the crowd with a smile and a nod before retreating from the podium.
Changes for the better indeed. Better for him, at least.
[“We know each other’s faces, but for our hearts he knows no more of mine than I of yours.” – Buckingham (about Richard), Act III, Scene IV]
Richard Plantagenet was, by this point in the proceedings, as happy as a cat that’d got the cream. He had done it. He’d murdered Edward, pinned the blame on Faustus, defeated George in the elections and, admittedly, had a lot of fun while doing so. He was the happiest he’d been in years.
That didn’t mean to say his good mood made others feel likewise. On the contrary he doubted some of the policies he planned to introduce would make the general populace remotely pleased, let alone joyous. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He needed to make a good first impression, and announcing precisely what he meant to do with the city would doubtless be an unwise move.
The people knew who he was, of course, so it was not a first impression in the usual sense. It was his first official speech as Mayor of New York City. Richard liked to consider himself a master of rhetoric, and was quite confident he’d managed to disguise his true intent with his words, just as he always did. Only this time he was under a lot more scrutiny. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Not now. Not after all he’d done, after he’d made it this far.
Stepping up to the microphone festooned podium, the new Mayor was acutely aware of the thousands of eyes watching his every move. Just like they had done at Edward’s funeral. Richard inwardly shook his head to clear his thoughts of his late brother as he began to speak. Edward was dead and gone and he wasn’t coming back. So why was he still the subject of his thoughts? It wasn’t as though he was guilty. God forbid.
“My fellow citizens of New York. It is a great honour to be standing before you today as your new mayor, and I want to begin by thanking you all for your support throughout my campaign. I must admit I did not expect this privilege to be bestowed upon me but, as it has been, I am all the more determined to secure lasting peace and prosperity with all the powers at my disposal.”
A pause, to allow the words to sink in. He saw a few people nod, reporters frantically scribbling away.
“I will not deny that my late brother Edward did great things for this city. But I believe a change is essential if the current situation is to improve. Having been working with the government’s funds for so long I understand the economic situation to be in a dire state. This shall soon no longer be the case.”
Some impressed murmurs from the crowd. Richard inwardly smirked.
“As well as brightening the forecast of the economic climate, I intend to drastically decrease the level of crime occurring within the city on a daily basis. Criminal activities exist in every city but here, admittedly, the problem seems to flourish. This problem, with time, will cease to be, at least to the level it is at present.”
Yet more noises of encouragement from the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye Richard noticed George, his expression a mixture of respect and awe he’d never seen him wear before. Of course, he didn’t know what Richard truly intended to do. No-one did. That didn’t mean to say that look wasn’t encouraging.
“I know that I shall achieve these aims, given time and the necessary tools with which to get the job done. I’m going to make changes in New York, changes for the better. All I ask for in return is your support in my endavours, for what is a great leader without the support of the people?”
An excellent note to end on, he noted mentally, the smiles and nods from the assembled crowd like jewels glimpsed through murky water. He’d managed to disguise his intentions well enough; no-one, for all outward appearances, seemed to suspect a thing.
These people thought they knew him, they thought they knew his feelings, his heart. But in truth they only knew his face. He graced the crowd with a smile and a nod before retreating from the podium.
Changes for the better indeed. Better for him, at least.
[“We know each other’s faces, but for our hearts he knows no more of mine than I of yours.” – Buckingham (about Richard), Act III, Scene IV]
