You speak today of sacrifice.

On this, at least, we agree.

Leadership demands sacrifice.
Knighthood demands sacrifice.
Service to a city demands sacrifice.

But let us be clear about one thing from the outset:

Sacrifice does not make a decision righteous.

History is filled with men who sacrificed greatly for futures they believed noble. Some built golden ages. Others built ruins.

The measure of their greatness was never the weight they carried upon their shoulders.

It was whether they carried their people with them.

You tell us that we do not know what transpired behind the chamber doors. That we were not present for the debates, the disputes, the sleepless nights of the five who decided Cyrene's fate.

You are correct.

We were not there.

That is precisely the problem.

A city does not surrender its sovereignty within a closed room and then ask its citizens to admire the courage of those who closed the door.

A city worthy of the name speaks plainly to its people before its future is decided for them.

You speak of sacrifice as though it answers the question.

It does not.

Sacrifice explains why you believed you were right.

It does not explain why the people of Cyrene were left to discover the magnitude of the decision only after it had already been made.

You say we do not understand the burden of leadership.

Perhaps. But leadership is not proven by the willingness to make difficult decisions.

Every ruler in history has made difficult decisions.

Leadership is proven by the willingness to stand before the people affected by those decisions and explain them without obscurity, without delay, and without the shelter of silence.

That is the burden you accepted when you chose to govern.

You invoke the past.

So let us speak plainly of the past.

Cyrene was not built by women and men who asked their citizens for quiet obedience.

It was built by citizens who believed their voices mattered in the shaping of their city. That belief -more than walls, more than alliances, more than armies- was the true foundation of Cyrene.

And foundations, once weakened, are not easily restored.

You say the five bore the weight of the decision.

Perhaps they did.

But the weight of a decision does not make it sacred.

It only makes it heavy.

And heavy decisions still deserve to be questioned.

You ask that we not speak for those who were there.

Very well.

But understand this: Citizens have always possessed the right to speak to those who governed them.

Even when the answer is inconvenient.

Even when the question comes too late to change the outcome.

Especially then.

Because the purpose of record is not merely to praise the victors.

It is to ensure that when history looks back upon moments like this, it sees the whole truth.

Not only the conviction of those who held power.

But also the voices of those who asked whether power had been used wisely.

So let this be recorded clearly.

Let it be remembered long after all of us have left these lands.

You may claim the burden of sacrifice.

You may claim the necessity of leadership.

You may even claim the promise of the future you believe you have built.

But you cannot claim that the citizens of Cyrene were given the clarity such a decision deserved.

And history, Lord Milabar, has a peculiar habit.

It listens patiently to the victors.

Then it writes its verdict in the margin.

So let the margin contain this truth:

Cyrene was not conquered.
Cyrene was not persuaded.

Cyrene was decided.

And the people of Cyrene were told afterward.

--- You ask us to admire the sacrifice of those who chose for Cyrene. We ask only why Cyrene was not allowed to choose for itself.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Chronos, in the year 999 AF.