Dispatch from a Colored Room

Good night, my fellow shadows, and good-bye

And then, a few years later, Altronne was bombarded by an invasion force of unknown objectives, and a bunch of scraggly thespians gathered in Folio's grandest theater to hash out what to do, and a little blonde woman harangued them for an hour with a story whose import some of them probably still haven't picked up. So here's the epilogue, with policy prescriptions.

We know what happened two nights ago in Aerestan, and last night on the second. We know which side the Dandelion Knight is on. It means they've come out in support of dispossession and violence, and of course that isn't anything we wouldn't have guessed of them, and I don't mean for a moment to dismiss that.

But.

I know a Dandelion Knight who hurt, to be sure, and sometimes killed. But I know a Dandelion Knight who hurt the pederast Elias Charbon—hurt him and then repaired him, so he could atone for his crimes. I know a Dandelion Knight who would have cured Gauthier Leblanc's bodily sickness, or at least tried, and asked nothing in return but that he accept his due fame and bring more beauty to the world. 

What do I know of the synod and Champions of Altronne? I know they hurt and kill us so we won't be like the Dandelion Knight. And when I say "us," I mean us in this room, who build worlds out of rags and paint and air, and dare to populate those worlds according to the truth of what we see, whether or not it's politically convenient to those who claim the right and means to hurt us. Ambrose will tell you all about that, but he'll have to write it out. We're told that the Dandelion Knight kill civilians, but how many do you know who've been collateral damage in their attacks? Now, how many do you know who said a few strong words, or made the wrong sort of acquaintance, and just didn't come home for dinner? 

That's all I have for you, rogues and reeves. A story fraying with loose threads, thin armor for what I'm asking you to do. Then again, I'm not asking you to take up arms against your invaders, as Daniel before me has. As the government that's called you terrorist and traitor will, if they can spare the time from this war that they're about to lose.

It's time to stop fighting for those who hurt us. Aimée taught me that, but at too high a cost. But, then, that's why Imen invented stories—so you could learn her lesson without paying her price.

Good night, my fellow shadows, and good-bye. We won't be the same when next we meet, whatever you choose.