Post by EpicToaster1 on Apr 6, 2023 21:59:01 GMT -5
DM INTERJECTION FOR THE KINGDOM OF FRANERRE
What's a DM Interjection? A DM Interjection isn't necessarily an event. It's more a plot point than anything, and in and of itself will not be the change of a nation; just foreshadowing.
A foot would practically burst through the doors to the National Chambers, causing the heads of all the members of the legislature to turn to the door and fall silent. One Marc-Antoine de Leclair would come barging into the room, carrying a stack of papers while two aides trail behind with a box each, presumably filled with more, less important documents.
"CLOSE THE DOORS!"
The aides would slam the doors shut behind them as they march into the middle of the room, Marc-Antoine slamming the stack of papers onto the Chambermen's desk. He'd spin around rapidly to the group. "Are there only members here?"
There'd be a small murmur through the crowd of people before there would be an affirmative "aye" from the crowd.
"Good."
He'd take a deep breath.
"What I'm about to say does not leave this room until we come up with a solution." He'd whip the newspaper article for all the men to see. "While I understand we're all bitter about the situation, this publication will be our downfall." He'd slam it down hard on the desk to emphasize his point. As he pulls his hand away, his palm would be burning red and a throbbing pain would pulse through his hand from hitting the desk so hard. "We ran the math. If we let these boycotts continue we're gonna be in for a world of hurt."
One member would raise their hand. "How bad?"
Another would interject. "It probably won't be as bad as his overexaggerated hand." There'd be a few snickers from the crowd surrounding the man.
The Minister wouldn't even crack a smile. "One hundred and fifty-five million Parian by the end of the season."
The whole room would fall silent at the number, the disbelief of a hundred and fifty men all staring at the Minister of Commerce and Prosperity.
"And that's just from the first season. I couldn't bear to think what would happen if we let it go for a second." He'd sigh. "I get we're angry, but we have to do something. We cannot afford to lose the trade deal with Ulster-Gaelia. If we're nothing but a drain, they can drop us. We cannot drop them. Not without a source to solve the deficit immediately." The aides would start distributing papers to each of the congressmen, showing them a detailed report of the ruins that the nation could potentially wind up in. "Unless we have someone apologize somewhere in the line, or a statement from the King himself to calm the people, we need solutions. We either need a new treaty with someone else by yesterday, or we need to hide the goods from the people. Somehow make the Gaelic goods look like they came from somewhere else. This way we can keep importing them while hiding who they're truly from. I don't know how well it'll work or the cost to do it, but at the very least we won't lose a major part of our markets."
He'd stare at the crowd, hoping for a reaction or a solution.
What's a DM Interjection? A DM Interjection isn't necessarily an event. It's more a plot point than anything, and in and of itself will not be the change of a nation; just foreshadowing.
A foot would practically burst through the doors to the National Chambers, causing the heads of all the members of the legislature to turn to the door and fall silent. One Marc-Antoine de Leclair would come barging into the room, carrying a stack of papers while two aides trail behind with a box each, presumably filled with more, less important documents.
"CLOSE THE DOORS!"
The aides would slam the doors shut behind them as they march into the middle of the room, Marc-Antoine slamming the stack of papers onto the Chambermen's desk. He'd spin around rapidly to the group. "Are there only members here?"
There'd be a small murmur through the crowd of people before there would be an affirmative "aye" from the crowd.
"Good."
He'd take a deep breath.
"What I'm about to say does not leave this room until we come up with a solution." He'd whip the newspaper article for all the men to see. "While I understand we're all bitter about the situation, this publication will be our downfall." He'd slam it down hard on the desk to emphasize his point. As he pulls his hand away, his palm would be burning red and a throbbing pain would pulse through his hand from hitting the desk so hard. "We ran the math. If we let these boycotts continue we're gonna be in for a world of hurt."
One member would raise their hand. "How bad?"
Another would interject. "It probably won't be as bad as his overexaggerated hand." There'd be a few snickers from the crowd surrounding the man.
The Minister wouldn't even crack a smile. "One hundred and fifty-five million Parian by the end of the season."
The whole room would fall silent at the number, the disbelief of a hundred and fifty men all staring at the Minister of Commerce and Prosperity.
"And that's just from the first season. I couldn't bear to think what would happen if we let it go for a second." He'd sigh. "I get we're angry, but we have to do something. We cannot afford to lose the trade deal with Ulster-Gaelia. If we're nothing but a drain, they can drop us. We cannot drop them. Not without a source to solve the deficit immediately." The aides would start distributing papers to each of the congressmen, showing them a detailed report of the ruins that the nation could potentially wind up in. "Unless we have someone apologize somewhere in the line, or a statement from the King himself to calm the people, we need solutions. We either need a new treaty with someone else by yesterday, or we need to hide the goods from the people. Somehow make the Gaelic goods look like they came from somewhere else. This way we can keep importing them while hiding who they're truly from. I don't know how well it'll work or the cost to do it, but at the very least we won't lose a major part of our markets."
He'd stare at the crowd, hoping for a reaction or a solution.
