"That's not fair!" a man in the crowd cried.
"What does that mean? Essence is twenty times the price it was before the war. So for the cost of that wall around the Sentinel, we could rebuild more of the city and we'd all have jobs!"
"They destroyed our city so they should fix it!" a woman shrieked.
"Meanwhile, what are all these foreign soldiers doing here? We're ploughing the land by hand, and our farms can only feed so many. Why should our farms feed foreign pillagers when the people of Tingara are starving?"
As Bastian's words took effect, the rocking of the carriage increased. The wrought-iron gates of the Imperial Palace opened and a squad of soldiers came forward, but they were far from the carriage and struggled to push through to come to the occupant's rescue.
The carriage door opened and a man stepped out. Someone raised their arm to strike him but was thrown back ten paces themselves, before falling to the ground, dazed. People surged towards the man but were either tossed back or fell away to let someone else take their place. He was like a rock poking its head above the ocean, yet a rock that steadily moved. As he walked through the crowd none could touch him, and now that the occupant of the carriage had exited, the mob left the vehicle alone.
The tall grey-haired man neither rushed nor faltered as he moved towards Bastian's makeshift podium atop the bed of a wagon. The mob fell back from the man's stare, but followed in his wake. As he drew close, Bastian realised with a smile it was the head of the beast, the subject of many of his speeches.
Bastian had under his power the Lord Regent, Rogan Jarvish.
With a warrior's agility the Alturan leapt atop the wagon. Disconcerted, Bastian couldn't help but draw back.
"Lord Regent." Bastian smiled, his voice loud so the mob could hear. "So pleased you could come to answer for what you've done."
"I haven't come to answer for anything," the tall man said. He looked out over the crowd and continued. "I've come to explain some hard truths. Truths you won't like but must face up to."
Bastian was taken aback. He'd learned to project his voice by helping his father on the masonry floor, shouting commands in an environment where a misinterpreted word could mean instant death from the heavy blocks of stone. The Lord Regent's parade-ground voice could easily be heard across Imperial Square and the crowd was stilled.
"The truth is things are tough for you here, I know," Rogan said. "But they are little better in Petrya or Halaran, Vezna or Torakon."
"What about Altura?" a man in the crowd yelled.
Rogan's face was sober. "In Altura the High Lord is near death, with the Lord Marshal's son also poisoned, in an attempt to shatter this fragile new order."
Some in the crowd looked down. Even Bastian was taken aback; this was the first they'd heard of it.
"We've had enough of bloodshed, haven't we? We're working hard to give work to your men and put food on your tables. I choose to bring my wife and son here because I have faith in this city, that it's a safe place where things are getting better day by day. At the moment we're having to make do without essence, which is difficult, but we're making progress. The harvest will come in soon, and it will be the largest harvest yet made without drudges to till the soil. The new aqueduct is bringing fresh water into the city without the use of any lore. I have faith that Seranthia won't just be the city she was before, she will be something even greater. I have faith in all of you. Don't do anything to make me lose that faith."
"When will the essence return?" someone shouted.
Bastian realised he'd lost control of the crowd. They now looked to the Lord Regent, where before they'd turned to him for answers.
"As we speak the machines are being rebuilt. Lignite is being stored, ready to process. It will be soon, I can promise you."
"Why is it you use a carriage when we starve?" a woman cried.
"I use a carriage because when I returned only hours ago from Castlemere, I saw this opportunity to address you all and wanted to get here as quickly as possible."
Bastian sneered; he knew it was a lie.
"But," Rogan held up his hand, "this day I will take the drudge to the fields and give it to a farmer who needs it."
Bastian snorted, but was forced to admit to himself that for a soldier, Rogan knew the right things to say.
The Lord Regent turned to Bastian and gave a small bow in the Tingaran manner. He then turned back to the mob.
"Thank you for the opportunity to address you all. My wife and son have had a long journey by sea and I have a great deal of work to do. Working together, we can make this city great."
As the Lord Marshal descended there wasn't exactly a cheer, but people made way for the commanding figure and one or two even shook his hand.
There would be another opportunity, Bastian knew.
The coming harvest would never feed them all. Parents were less easy to reason with when it came to the fates of their starving children.