Where Do We Stand? [Pamphlet]

[Erudiche]

Where Do We Stand?

In the present election, on the eve of Holy War, the people face three uncertain, embattled contenders. Of the Purple, a cartographer; of the Gold, Sol Auk's  former Magistrate; of the White, the Warrior's Ax. Each swirls in their own cloud of intrigue and controversy, each makes their own appeal to the voting public and body politic. On every street corner sit signs proclaiming all manner of wild opinion and rhetoric: we shall attempt to do better, and present you with what is I believed to be a reasoned argument and an analysis of the election as we see it. We shall argue for who it is that shall best lead the Well into the war, and who is best suited to protect our people,

The Purple Candidate, Sephidra Niridhe, is not new to politics. This is not her first pass at the post. Yet can any claim she is experienced, having abandoned the political arena before when her own League desperately needed her? I ask how it is that any voter could have faith in Citizen Niridhe when her own comrade, dear Legate Almirah, did not! If the good Legate spoke against the interests of partisan domination and did not trust in the faculties of Citizen Niridhe, this bodes ill. Indeed, she has not won the endorsement of the honored Lieutenant Colmes, nor great enthusiasm from any other within her League. She only won their nomination because their other candidate, the courageous and venerable Marcellus Saenus, was taken out of the contest!

This is to say nothing of the disturbing associations Citizen Niridhe calls her own: the individual known as 'Mote', or the 'Mote of Darkness' who has menaced the sendings as of late, is a member of Niridhe's own cartography organization, itself the subject of much scandal and discourse, and has been left to freely promulgate bigoted, vile screeds against our very own Gnomish population - loyal and beloved subjects of the Sultan. If Niridhe sees fit to entertain, reward with gainful employ, and break bread with this Mote of Racism, well, that should speak volumes about the caliber of this nominee. And let us not forget who it was who, as catastrophe and war loom, did empty the scant remnants of our treasury for the pleasure of the Emir of Kha'esh and his court of fleshmongers...  the League of Purple, despite their pledges, are no strangers to incompetent and imprudent government. In this present war, displays of weakness, inconstancy in will, bigotry against your own subjects, are not vices which can be entertained. We are as one people, one Well, one front, which must be unified and firm against the days which approach.

The Gold Candidate, Qari Alriyh, is an individual for whom I have great respect, yet too I find certain concerns. While the Candidate has chosen to distance himself from the political depravity of Sol Auk, let it be known that it is not the Candidate who holds the seat of Legate, but the League. The Gold League, as exhibited by the formidable campaign of Gars Geiger, clearly possesses a great appetite for further Aukian government: ransom, plutocracy, and corruption. The mission of the Gold League's redemption, at present, is dubious.

Neither is Qari likely to win without making concessions to the Aukians, which would liquidate the value of his previous campaign. We must also think to our present state of crisis: the Tonsured and the Sibilant are impending, and what have we? An empty treasury, and a city full of Brookers, Bashmu-kar, and crypto-Orentid forces -- the Conspiracy. Who was it who saw our city crumble over the past months? The League of Gold, via the sole Legateship of Sol Auk. Sol Auk, who recklessly and with great demagoguery did nearly abolish vital taxes on the eve of catastrophe, who wasted the fortune of the city on personal enrichment and schemes, who fled when golden goose finally perished, who encouraged speculation of land and pardoned murderers, emboldening the thugs who later sought the life of Legate Zaniah! The League of Gold are not prudent managers of crisis, of public funds, nor loyal servants of the Sultan. Indeed, they seem to fail even to please the merchants who form their core... Let us not reward the Gold, who have debilitated the war effort, with a Legate in this election. Let us not send the message that the Well finds sabotage and corruption beloved.

The White Candidate, Echemmon Telemanus, our final option. Within the League, many whisper that he is too moderate, too temperate, too comfortable with the order of the day. Without the League, many regard him as a radical, as a Bashmu-kar, as a savage. I have spoken to him, and in our meeting I saw something which I believe the city needs: a pragmatist. Telemanus is a candidate for the real world, for the practical, for those interested in survival. He is no radical Asterabadian, nor a heartless elitist. He is a citizen concerned for the city, who has laid out a clear, functional, and articulate program to save the city: we shall embrace the Mother's s mercy and secure the rescue of the refugees, eliminate the lingering specter of the Orentid threat, and crush the loathsome forces of the Sibilant, in concord with the free cities and the Sultan, but leading nobly and soundly as the vanguard of this effort, as the Sultan has willed. No man is perfect, and indeed neither so is Telemanus, but he is honest and has his feet firmly in our present political reality. He is, despite appearances, blessed with a certain wisdom and an awareness of present circumstances. He will, in all likelihood, find himself in good company alongside the noble Marcellus Saenus, and shall ensure a functioning government in this most critical of periods. It is the League of White which has remained untainted by the present circumstances of fiscal ruin and unannounced taxation, and it is the League of White which, I contend, offers the best chance to steer the city through this perilous time, which the Leagues of Gold and Purple have only worsened over the previous weeks.

I do not advance Telemanus before you as an ideologue. Indeed, we have sparred with furious intensity over the issues of the day, and there remains no love between us. So know that I am not deceived, nor do I labor under any false impressions when I tell you: There is no one better, more safe, more deserving, or more realistic present in this race. The goal of every elector, I implore, must not be sectional advancement, partisan loyalty, or personal machination, but instead one thing and one thing only: the continued existence of the city in a time of dire threat. Echemmon Telemanus has vowed to mount the head of the traitor Diakos on a spike, and values nothing more than the salvation of our people. In this I believe that he is sincere, and I ask that you join the rising tide of support for the White in this election. With a clear, united, and legitimate mandate, the two Legates, of Purple and of White, might stand astride the course of history and proudly proclaim a prosperous future, one long overdue for this tired and blood-stained land. To you I say: if not for Telemanus, then for the League of White. Know that it is not only he that represents his League, know that even should you think him a radical, or a fool, that the voices of reason which presently reside within our group are the ones who hold his counsel: not the saboteurs and greedy men, or the jackals and bigots.

Be you of the Sultan's Fourth, the Astronomers, the Rose, the Alchemists; be you rich or poor or a struggling merchant; be you human or elfish or gnomish or a son of Kulkund or of Baz'eel's stock; be you of the White or Gold or Purple, I implore you: let us come together in this time, as we did in the sacred meeting at Kardesler, and proclaim our daring to spit in the face of evil and to issue to the demon, Diakos, his long overdue justice. Together, we must unite beneath the auspices of the Warrior, that troubled son. Together, we must elect League of White, who is the only League which entirely and incontrovertibly stands for war, which did not equivocate or entertain divisionism, which did not even for a second contemplate the offers of Qa'im, Kha'esh, or the shameful cowardice exhibited by many at the Congress.

Let us say for once and all time: Up the White! All hail the Sultan! All hail the Well! All hail the Wheel!