Written by Protectorate Rile, in the position of High Bard of the Empire.

Next year, each one of you will face your nation The day your seat comes due, and most will say: “You are the ones my service has been for. If I have served you well, let me do more."

The Empire has elected itself champion Of Liberty across the world, and now The broken of the world have come to us. Some send their diplomats, their priests and lords, Some come as fugitives fled out by night. But far and further come they to our door, And say “You have done much. Will you do more?"

The west, the Jotun keep their thralls pressed down. The east, the Druj enslave, and loot and burn. The north, the Thule still compass and control. The south, the Grendel earthquake will reach far. And also on our border, oft forgot Are the Suranni, who, while we speak here, Kill and enslave their people for their gods. Those fled have come to ask we go to war. They have seen us do much. They ask “Do more.”

If not war, something else. Courage demands Where one command must fail, to try another. Ambition does not countenance ‘enough’. At every awful choice, strive to be sure You choose, not to shrink back, but to do more.

You have last night, you will today, decide Who you can save, and who you must ignore. The Senate floor is small, the world is wide, But we have done unthought-of things before. Vote not in Fear, but Loyalty and Pride: Ambition's prize for doing much is to be asked for more.