De Azcoissia Chancellory: A Retrospective

[Birdsfoot_Violet]

jams

Note: This is not a formal Decree, as, for those not present during the Upper House Assembly on the 5th of February, 310 AC, Madelyn de Azcoissa announced her Resignation as Lord Chancellor.​

In a similar manner to my predecessor, I ultimately ended without a true 'final decree.' By choice, rather than surprise, to my benefit. A final 'joy,' for myself, to see a vote without prior negotiations, promises, or the sort. The idea of taking some final moments to watch the scamper of pitches and bids pleased me to consider. The dissolution of the position of Chancellor by His Imperial Holiness brought me more peace than either of these. I will not deny some wistful melancholy at the prospect, to be considered the 'Last,' but it is more than for the best. With this finality, I would like to muse upon my tenure as Lord Chancellor, from start to finish.


I, for some time after my inauguration, regretted declining to run during the prior election, then between the Duke Alastair Mac Conall and Duke Markus Delmotte. In the initial stages, as many may recall, the (now) Mister Augustin Reinard had not clearly announced his intent to run, even if many knew of it or expected it to happen. Part of my initial hesitance came from my desire to maintain my tenure as Finance Minister, feeling ill-experienced and unequipped to take over at that time. I also considered the possibility of splitting voter bases. The Duke Markus Delmotte and I would have hypothetically shared a voter base, potentially bringing the votes between Delmotte and myself, leaving just Mac Conall and Reinard. Furthermore, abstaining from that election and planning for the next secured a 'trade' of votes between the other electees. These compounding reasons directed my decision to avoid application. Indeed, even I considered the Duke Delmotte and Mister Reinard as acceptable candidates, and that the votes would come between the two of them.


Discontent began with Mister Reinard's first decree, which introduced considerable bloat to both Government offices and law and intent. From that point on was a rapidly compounding list of grievances, many of which the rest of the peerage shared. In most cases, however, whoever strikes first gains the most, and by spearheading the collection of votes for the ultimate No-Confidence declaration, I was able to somewhat confidently enter the Assembly under the presumption that if Reinard was removed, then I would become Lord Chancellor.

After my inauguration, the pressure was immense. How could it not be? Reinard had acted with great negligence, and for the first time in many years, the Empire had lost territory to a Foreign State. (Though one could argue in good conscience that Reinard unfortunately took the fall for an action sanctioned by the prior Chancellor, Arahael Bancroft, due to unfortunate timing). Many eyes were upon me to publish my first decree with great haste. The majority of the following week was inundated with office meetings, seeing to the needs of people with regards to law, and decrees, and taking applications for appointments for the many vacant positions at the time.


The next incident of note in my Chancellory was the Noble Retreat, which foretold a number of sweeping changes to the Empire. The presence of the Ithanian Ambassador, Iron Duke, and assorted members of the Imperial Family demanded the highest level of poise and behavior. Whether or not this standard was ultimately met, however, is something I will not muse on. The venue was exceptionally lavish, perfect even for the impromptu Assembly that led to the creation of the Crown Heartlands, via a proposal made by the Ithanian Ambassador. This implementation, I expect, will be a guiding facet of future diplomacy, and management of the Empire's subject states, as it sets an ideal standard of cooperation and freedom for these subject states. To be a 'valued jewel' of the Empire, free to control their own governing, but equally entirely beholden to the Crown and State's modern standards and laws.


The return to the City, following the end of the retreat, was for the most part relatively uneventful leading up to the Sanguine Crisis. The intermittent Assemblies contained a number of important actions decreed by the Crown, and by vote, including the removal of the ban on House Viduggula's capacity to own a Navy, and the dissolution of the Northern Development fund. I found, at the time and in retrospect, the vote regarding House Viduggla to be the most peculiar, because it ran antithetical, at surface inspection, to the usual operating principles of Nobility. A proposal was made, or broken, on whether or not it could be seen as a direct negative, benefit, net neutral, or sole benefit to another in the Peerage. If a proposal was a negative to a house, you could count that they would vote no on it, unless you had made some pre-arrangements, or convinced them it was not in fact a negative. If it was a positive to them, of course, they would vote in favor. And if it was neutral, being, neither directly positive nor negative to them in a way they could perceive, this would then hinge on whether or not it was a positive to someone else. Often, would nobles vote favorably if it was a positive to their ally, or perhaps someone they had made arrangements with, but vote negatively if it was not. Which leads me to my point regarding the Viduggla vote. Why did a vote that was nothing but a positive to another house, with no direct benefit, pass so handily on the floor? Was Nobility so quick to forgive? Or had there been arrangements for votes prior? My foremost theory is that the Assembly, at the time, could not extrapolate a direct benefit for themselves (but could possibly for the State, and chose not to), and thus decided that House Viduggla had 'paid enough,' and showed solidarity for their struggles by voting to remove it. Not to house Viduggla's detriment, of course. Even with the immediately following dissolution of the Northern Development Fund, House Viduggla ultimately exited the arrangement relatively unscathed. They had re-gained their rights, after all. It may seem unusual for me to elaborate on this point so verbosely, however I consider it an excellent example to dissect and offer an understanding of the bygone politics of that era. An era now dissolved, with the re-modulation of the Assembly, and removal of direct voting procedure by the Nobles.


I can still so vividly recall the beginnings of the Crisis, now. Word of an attack on the Temple of Ness, the destruction of the Curing Chambers, and the slow creep of infection upon the City. When Greygate fell, I was within my Estate, seeing to runners, and peering out into the worn, worried faces of the arriving Knights and Dragon Faithful who would escort me to the Calvonth Castle. The faces of many who would later succumb to infection, a withering of their afflictions, and truly harrowing troubles. I profess a sobering sense of uselessness, during the Crisis. When there is no 'State,' no Government, of course, who needs a pencil pusher? Who needs the politician, who wields only her words, incapable of even defending herself? There were some answers to these questions. Such as, who needs a pencil pusher? It turned out, one was desperately needed, as most of the Bureaucracy was tragically infected, shirking their duties. For any who passed through my makeshift 'office,' at the time, they may recall it filled with processed papers, reports, and requests from the still living, and trying to function peoples of the Empire. At the very least, I could attempt to instill hope, for those who carried the remains of the State, and City, on their backs and in their blood and on their swords.


It would be inappropriate to say things returned to 'normal' following the end of the Crisis. While efforts were made to quickly and efficiently restore order, there was, and still is, an air of distrust and malaise surrounding the incident. For we saw what the greatest evils can do to those we care most about, twisting their minds, their hearts, and their hands to bring about chaos. Eventually, however, we came back to usual operating status. The city grew colder, tempered by the warmth of the Wintertide Season. A number of decrees came and went, mostly focused upon replacing empty offices, or tweaking laws based on Assemblies. When the year rolled over, I felt myself approaching closer and closer to the 'end,' and began to prepare accordingly.


I feel as though my final few decrees either speak for themselves, or are so 'new' that it is pointless to muse upon them in a retrospective. We will continue to see their effects, for good and ill, without a following Chancellor to immediately repeal certain aspects of them. I do not look back upon my Chancellory and see perfection, of course. It is natural for us to err, to learn, and to grow, but the position of Chancellor does not allow for such inexperience. I look back upon it with some measured pride, regardless, and look forward to what the Ministries and new Offices will bring for the Empire. For within my Chancellory, they were the backbone of it, from start to finish.

Archduchess Madelyn de Azcoissia
The Last​

OOC:
Haha wow remember when I said I'd post this like a week ago? Time sure flies

That's all she wrote for the chancellery, folks. It was a whole lot of fun.

Special Shoutout to all my ministers, and advisors, and clerks and contingent & violet guards. o7​

 

[ZCA919]

o7