"Greetings, my people. Greetings, citizens of Quollo—citizens of Irmway. And indeed, greetings to those of you who hail from beyond our borders. For it's clear there are now far more of you than when last I stood upon this dais and looked down upon such a grand gathering.

"Greetings, and also my thanks. Thank you for taking the time from your busy lives on this beautiful morning to congregate here in the city square of our beloved city of Quollo, to hear the humble words that I, Prince Vazor Tau, have to say to you. Thank you also to the High Council, the august congregation of lords and ladies you see here gathered to my right, who served to govern you in my absence. Now, now, that will do. There will be time to express your appreciation—or otherwise—later. And, perhaps most of all, thank you to the dragon, the dwarf and the elf standing to my left. It is to these intrepid three you owe my presence here today. Not only for locating me—despite, I might add, my best efforts—but also for ensuring my safety. As it would seem not all my subjects were thrilled by my return, these noble three stood guard outside my chambers last evening, after news of my presence became widely known. And, to judge by their somewhat battered appearance, they had an eventful night. Although, having said that, I don't recall Hobe's beard ever looking quite so immaculately curled. And Slash certainly cuts a dashing figure in his new colonel's uniform. As for Carri, she of course looks...hmm, where did that elf get to? I could have sworn she was here just a moment ago.

"In any case, I have returned. But the question, of course, is where have I been? Well, that is a long story. Too long, I'm afraid, to regale you with now. Suffice it to say I have travelled far and seen much. The important thing, from your point of view, is that I was not here. I was not here following the death of my mother, the just and compassionate Queen Marise, not here to don the Mane of Might, to be coronated with the Winged Crown and become the Manticore—to become your ruler, as generations of my forebears have done before me.

"Why? Why did I leave? Might it have been due to my own inadequacies? Was I selfish? Weak? Afraid? Yes, yes and yes. Hardly more than a boy, I was all those things and more. So, was that why I left? Why I abandoned you, the good people of Irmway, in your hour of need? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, I'm all too aware my absence caused distress. That it led to suffering and unrest and strife. For that, I am truly sorry. And now that I have returned, I want you to tell me, my fellow Irmwegians, how you have suffered. Tell me of the trouble to which my abdication led."

"Trouble?" The disgruntled voice came from several rows back in the crowd. "I'll tell you about trouble, alright. That new gnome magic turned my husband into a toad!"

"Into a...? Why, that's terrible, ma'am. Perhaps—"

"And then not half an hour later, he bloody well turned right back again," continued the voice. "What kind of crap magic is that?"

"Uh—"

"What do you expect if you only fork out for the C-grade stuff, love?" From her position perched atop a street sign, Bex shaded her eyes and tried to find the source of the voice. "Bloody cheapskate!"

"Perhaps—"

"You think that's bad?" interrupted the cultured tones of an elderly man in Irmish livery, standing in the front row. "What about me? I was forced to endure"—there was a catch in his voice—"the wilfully inappropriate handling of silverware. That kind of thing never went on in back in Queen Marise's day."

"Well, that doesn't—"

"Don't you worry, Prigglesworth, I'm on to it, mate." This came from a large ogre dressed in smart business attire, towering over his neighbours at the back of the crowd. "Lord Hirschnopple can't dodge me forever."

"I—"

"Damn it all, you were supposed take care of that wetched oaf!" From his position at the front of the High Councillors, Lord Hirschnopple stamped his foot and shook his fist at Blompo, who was standing off to one side of the crowd, with Barderim fluttering around his head—or, more specifically, he shook it at the goblin wedged under the big troll's arm. "You are a twuly tewwible assassin. I demand a wefund!"

"Assassin? Lord Hirsch—"

"Take care of me?" The ogre twisted around to display the substantial cleaver half-buried in his back. "This scratch? Ha! The rightful and avenging fury of CR is not so easily averted, my lord. And this little misdemeanour is going on your rap sheet, sonny Jim, believe you me."

"I'm sure—"

"What the hell is she doing back on the street?" demanded Slash, also pointing at Wonda. "Well, above the street, I guess. Barderim, are you nuts?"

"Wait a—"

"Well, it's all this new religious freedom palaver, isn't it?" replied the fairy. "Turns out we're not supposed to prosecute perpetrators on the basis of their cultural mores and folkways and...and...stuff. So, we've compromised with kind of a supervised release thingy."

"That doesn't—"

"Folkways? She bloody well kills people!" shouted Carri, seemingly returned from wherever she had disappeared to.

"Hang on a—"

"Yeah, well," said Barderim, "turns out for her, that's cultural."

"I don't—"

"Not anymore." Although soft in tone, the goblin's voice carried clearly across the square. "My killing days are over. Now"—like the sun bursting through clouds, a sudden smile illuminated her face as she directed her dreamy gaze at Hobe—"I'm going to learn to dance."

"Er, right. How lovely. Now—"

"Blimey." Hobe's already ruddy features blushed a deeper crimson. "Didn't see that coming."

"Look, if I could just—"

"Just? Don't get me started on just. Because, as I'm sure is obvious to anybody with even the slightest hint of political understanding, the unscheduled and quite frankly malfeasant nature of your abdication resulted in an unexpected and untenable power vacuum, which rather than facilitating the more rapid establishment of a free and fair governmental system, with one vote, one value and suffrage for all, instead led to the wholesale devolution of power to an admittedly more diverse yet still fundamentally corrupt and incompetent body of non-constitutionally elected, hereditarily privileged individuals, with all the associated embedding of non-democratic, non-merit-based selection biases and iniquitous allocation of rights and privileges to be expected in such an inherently non-representative system. And furthermore, now that your return introduces the prospect of the reinstatement of the former monarchical and aristocracy-based administration"—perched upon his box, more or less in the middle of the crowd, a somewhat blue-faced Revolutionary Rodrick paused to draw a deep breath—"it's probably just gonna be more of the same old shit again, innit?"

"Uh...well...while you make some interesting points, I—"

The rising clamour from the crowd began to drown out Vazor's cultured yet increasingly exasperated voice.

"I lost my job down the copper mine! I mean, I never liked it much, what with the dark and the dirt and them canaries carking it all the time, and it's true I got a much better job since, but you know...still."

"They're puttin' up a bloody big hippo in my neighbourhood! And to make it even worse, it's green! Who the hell wants that kind of thing down the end of their street?"

"Streets? Don't get me started on streets! You should see the size of the pothole in—"

"Enough!" The word rippled across the square, silencing the increasing hubbub. The prince's tone had thus far been mild, but with the power of that command any lingering doubt as to whether a genuine Manticore occupied the dais was gone. There were one hundred and sixty generations of hereditary rule in that command.

"That is enough. Things have been tough. I get it. But there is something you should know. Earlier, I speculated as to whether my inadequacy played a role in my decision to abdicate. And perhaps it did. But the thing is, people of Irmway, there was another reason.

"And that reason, I'm sorry to have to inform you, was Irmway itself. The reason was you! Because, quite frankly, Irmway was boring! Boring, boring, boring! Up at one end we had the same old institutions we'd always had, populated by the same staid old farts sticking slavishly to the same old rules and regulations, running the same old boring wars and balls and border scuffles and what have you. And meanwhile, way down the other end we had you lot, the humble citizens of Irmway, basically nothing but a bunch of sheep drifting along year after year, following tradition for tradition's sake and doing whatever the Manticore and their cronies decreed for no better reason than you didn't have the imagination or the courage to do anything else. Oh, enough with the booing and the jeering, already. Take a good hard look at yourselves and you'll know it's true.

"And Irmway wasn't just boring. Irmway was stagnant! Irmway was going nowhere. In fact, Irmway was going backwards. Becoming a backwater, an afterthought—a joke! And while we stagnated, stewing in our precious traditions and our customs and our ironclad conventions, other kingdoms were doing all kinds of exciting stuff. You wouldn't believe the things I saw on my travels. Science, technology, magic—wonders such as you could not comprehend. Not to mention the culture, the arts, the law codes, and on and on.

"And do you think those kingdoms simply stumbled onto their wonders? That some beneficent ruler plonked them into their laps, or that they fell from the sky? No, of course they didn't. They learned them. Achieved them. Earned them. The hard way, through work and open-mindedness and curiosity and, above all else, embracing change! Accepting risk! Through chucking out the old and having a crack at something new. No doubt they stumbled, no doubt they fell—and no doubt, every now and then, they completely screwed the snotling—but they kept on taking chances, regardless.

"So, I decided that's what you have to do, people of Irmway. You have to take chances. You have to embrace change. Basically, if you want this place to become something other than a backwards sinkhole populated by an ignorant rabble of near-sighted nobodies, you might just have to bloody well give that damn snotling the rogering of its life." Teeth startling white against the smooth darkness of his features, Vazor gave the crowd a winning smile. "Doesn't that sound nice?"