The next day, thankfully, had cleared up. The gloomy and ominous overcast sky had parted to reveal the land's characteristic summery blue skies and bright sunny rays. Because the contrast was so jarring, perhaps, there were almost twice as many people buzzing on and about in the marketplace square.

Or perhaps it was because already, there was a rumor floating around that the renowned hero Jeanne, the shining star of Riviera, the girl blessed by both crown and god with a heart of shining gold, wanted to announce something of particular importance. 

Li stood a fair bit away from the square, by a tavern where barrels of ale were piled up. He did not want to get himself involved in the thick of the crowd, and his vision and height could easily zoom in on the square. Sylvie sat atop the barrels next to him, needing them to boost her height to see over the crowd.

"This is a pretty good crowd," said Li. "Almost as big as it was back when Jeanne got her medal."

"It is not every day that the entire square is rented out by a single person," said Sylvie. "Normally, the square is divided amongst several troubadour troops and minstrel bands."

"Amazing how cutting out bad music and silly shouting makes the square that much quieter," commented Li. His eyes scanned over the thronging crowd, at the heads of Rivierans man and woman, old and young. "Even with this many people."

"It is a shame that Old Thane could not be here to witness it. He does like having his words proven right."

"He'll manage. What he knows, he knows. He doesn't need to see it to validate himself." 

Sylvie nodded in response before she pored over a piece of paper with the speech she had written, wanting to make sure Jeanne said everything correctly. 

Li did consider bringing the old man, but he had asked the old man to stay at the cottage for today because it was likely that restaurateurs were coming around to survey the crop. Li had filled the old man in on the situation, telling him that their golden grain was in high demand, and asked him to get a general grasp of the restauraunters' character and see who was going to net them the best deal. 

Of course, Li also wanted the old man to stay home because it was safer, guarded by Zagan, the Myrmeke, Tia, and Iona. Li did not think that Chevrette would be stupid enough to create a ruckus in a public spot like the marketplace square, but it was better to avoid unnecessary chaos when it could be avoided, especially after last time when there was that minor altercation with the duchess's knights and Sunstar at the square.

"It's almost noon. Is she going to show up right on the mark?" said Li. 

Sylvie kept her eyes on her paper. "Jeanne had some difficulty memorizing the speech I wrote for her, so perhaps she is still grappling with it. But I assume it is also rather difficult to get the beastwomen on the square with her considering there are so many people around."

Li cocked his head. "Thought Azhar had a good rapport with them. Feel like he'd be able to convince them."

"The Feli, yes, but the Serpi, less so. The Serpi has been clutched with fear ever since we took her into our quarters in the inn. She does respond to our requests, but it is with quite some hesitation."

"Can't blame her." Li shrugged. "But she should be fine. I'm confident she wouldn't disobey us."

"Is enforcing obedience also a part of your 'little trick?'" said Sylvie as she looked up from her paper, curious. 

"When everything you ever believed in is shattered at the foundation, you tend to become more open minded," said Li.

Sylvie pouted. "That doesn't explain anything."

"It explains enough." Li pointed to her speech paper. "If you wanted to make sure Jeanne said everything right, why not go up to the square with her?"

Sylvie shook her head. "The people love Jeanne and only Jeanne. The less of us there are on the stage, the better. Azhar is a necessity for the Feli trusts only him, but aside from him, the impact upon the people is far greater with just Jeanne." 

"Seems reasonable." Li waved her attention to the square. The trapdoor at its back end where high end performers usually arose from in a flashy entrance opened. "Well then, let's see if she got all the words down." 

====================

Jeanne clutched at her speech paper, bringing it close to her chest, close to her heart. The paper crumpled under her strong fingers, but she did not mind. She knew all the words by now. It was the words themselves that gnawed at her.

Jeanne shook her head. Sylv was always right – she could not doubt her now. She took in a breath and frowned. The air here, under the square, was so humid and dusty, as if the very air itself were being choked out. She hated confined spaces, and this place was the definition of confined.

Small, cramped, walled in on all sides. A single lantern lit the area, revealing a bunch of acting props and spare instruments littered about the wood walled room. 

"Don't ya worry," said Azhar. He stood beside her, the two beastwomen trailing behind him. "There ain't a chance yer gonna' fail with how amazin' you are. So put that smile back on, would ya?"

Jeanne smiled and nodded, glancing at the beastwomen. Two large cloaks were draped over them. She had wanted to dress them in more comfortable, less revealing clothes, but there was nothing that came fitted to their unique proportions. The best she could do was give them cloaks to ward off the cold, though neither of them seemed to mind it.

Azhar looked back and waved his wand, giving a signal for the stage hands to open up the trapdoor. A young boy at the back strained against a lever embedded in the floor, and when it cranked back, the door slid open, letting sunlight flash into the dark confines of the room.

Jeanne took in another breath as she took a step forward, going up the steps leading out the door. She could finally breathe in fresh air. She could finally feel true sunlit warmth. That gave her the energy to steel herself and make it out the door, because if she hesitated now, she doubted she could muster up the courage to keep going forwards.

But when Jeanne finally made it onto the square, when the cheers and adoring looks assailed her ears, she froze up. She knew that adventurers became celebrities among the people, but she had never done this for the fame. She had never wanted any of it, never expected it, and now, faced with so much of it, she had no idea what to do

She felt an insurmountable pressure weighing down on her shoulders. As her blue eyes scanned over the crowd, at the huge variety of faces all looking expectantly at her, she could not help but think whether she was the one to shoulder all their hopes.

She knew she was not perfect, she knew she had so many things to work on, so many things she could do better, and yet, all of them were looking at her like she was pure perfection.

How could she be something she was not?

Jeanne bit her lip as she took steps forward, the ring of her armor clattering loudly in her ears. Sylv had told her to wear her full armor to project a powerful presence. Thinking of that, Jeanne calmed herself a little. Sylv was always right about basically anything. As long as she followed her, there would not be issues.

Jeanne noticed the crowd grow quieter, murmuring among themselves as Azhar came up, bringing the beastwomen with them. Her sensitive hearing could pick snippets of conversation up.

"Beasties?"

"Maybe spoils o' war from up north, eh?"

"They're sure to be criminals, aye. The lady shouldn't spoil her hands with a hangin', though, that western boy over there oughta' do it. He's more suited, just look at him."

Jeanne held back a grimace. She looked back to the beastwomen. Both of them were fearful now, hunching over, their ears twitching and their eyes wide in worry as they saw so very many people. Jeanne was sure they could sense the casual cruelty and hostility in the air, too. 

"People of Riviera," began Jeanne as she projected her voice. It rung loud and clear over the square, cutting off the chatter below. At the least, she prided herself on her powerful voice, though Sylv and Azhar would argue it made her bad singing that much worse.

"I humbly come before you to let you know that there is a great evil festering within our very city walls. An evil that must be vanquished under the Light."

Jeanne could tell all the townspeople were staring at the beastwomen, expecting them to be the evils. 

"Before you, I present two beastwomen. They are our enemy, yes, but-," Jeanne paused as the crowd leaned in, eager to listen.

Jeanne knew the next words Sylv had told her to say. 'But that does not mean the sacred rule of the duchess's law can be ignored, and these beastwomen are evidence that the law has been violated.' 

Yet was that the right thing to say?

Sylv had told her that it was, that the people did not care about the beastwomen but would instead care about the law, especially when it was law set by the duchess whom they loved. Sylv said to emphasize that the law had been broken and that there should be no exceptions among its enforcement among the poor and the rich as they would relate far better to that. 

But what had been violated greater. The law, or these women?

"But that does not mean you should turn a blind eye to their suffering. They have been forcibly taken from their homes, tortured, their minds warped, and their freedom stripped from them. They have been enslaved against their wills, plucked away from the love and warmth of their families and friends. 

They may be different with claws and eyes and tails, but they have beating hearts as we do. They are fearful, cry, and suffer as we do. It may be hard, but in their faces, in their suffering, try to see yourself in them. Of if you are a man, your wife, your sister, or your daughter in the scars of slavery that wreathe their bodies. 

The foul roots of the slave trade brought them here, into the heart of our pristine city, and we, not only as people of the law, but also as those with hearts that beat true with the love of the Light, the Light that shines upon the whole world, upon human and beastman alike, must see that justice is brought forth."

Jeanne could see that quite a few of the townspeople were shifting uncomfortably, but she could not bring herself to care. If becoming their ideal meant becoming something she was not, then she decided she could not do it. 

"And the man who lords over this trade banned and seemingly uprooted from our great duchy is Lord Chevrette. Golden in heart he may seem, but he is no man of the Light. He plays with the misery of others under the guise of goodness. He is a wolf whose cruel fangs hide within the soft wool of sheep. He is the evil that must be uprooted."

Jeanne bit her lip again as she waited for the consequence of her new speech. Surprisingly, the majority of the crowd were with her, nodding along with her, but there were still enough against her that a voice of dissent rose against her.

"What evidence do you have against him!?" shouted a man, his speech a little slurred from early drinking. "Foul beasties don't count!"

"Aye, Chevrette saved me life, me smithery, everythin. He is no foul evil!" chimed in another man. 

The voices against her gathered, shouting out complaints. 

And though these voices were a minority, it was a large enough minority that Jeanne could not mobilize the whole crowd into action. Her next words would be absolutely key into bringing the people fully to her side. 

Jeanne opened her mouth, but her voice caught. She did not know what to say. She had already deviated from Sylv's script, and now, after loosing all the feeling she had pent up within her, she had nothing more within her. Her lip trembled. Sylv must have been so disappointed right now, and she knew that Li would tell her she could have done better.

Jeanne raised a hand, bidding the crowd quiet even though she had nothing to say. But how? This was the best she could do. The best she, as Jeanne, and not whatever ideal this crowd wanted her to be, could do. 

The crowd grew even quieter, almost to an unnatural stillness. Jeanne blinked, trying to understand what was going on.

A hand landed upon her shoulder plate. By the weight of it, it was not Azhar. It was lighter. That of a woman. 

The woman passed in front of Jeanne. A shade of darkness under the light of the sun. Broad black hat, black bodysuit, black blindfold. It was one of the duchess's personal heroes, the one that had snuck up on Sylv when she tried to infiltrate Jeanne's meeting with the duchess. 

The woman made bowed to the crowd, and they began cheering again upon seeing a fabled member of the Ascendant Order.