CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN THE PRIME MINISTER’S ANNOUNCEMENT

The prime minister of Eastphalia stands before the Eastphalian talking mirror, readying for his announcement. He looks into the mirror, which is refusing to engage with him and is posing as a normal mirror. This works fine for the moment; the prime minister could use a glance at his reflection before he appears in front of all of Never After.

He adjusts his cravat, smooths the lines in his suit. He thinks to himself that he looks dignified. Like a real ruler. He takes a breath. This announcement will change everything. Is he really going to lead Never After down this path? There’s a pinch in the back of his mind. What’s that feeling? That nag? It’s what one might call a conscience. But the prime minister learned how to shut that down long ago, and now it makes an effort to rear its head only on rare occasions. He supposes this is one such occasion.

He assures his conscience that it’s fine, he’s doing the right thing here. When this announcement is out in the world and the takeover is complete, he’ll finally have real power. He won’t have to worry about silly things like democracy or elections. He’ll be able to make a real impact.

He’s a fan of order. A man of regulations who prizes ordinance, the unanimous following of rules. Societies and civilizations must be controlled! Never After is far out of order these days, isn’t it? Isn’t this what the fairies were always on about, this disorganized idea of letting various communities of Never After rule themselves? The fairies encouraged Never After’s monarchs to act as guiding figures to their kingdoms—help with decision-making, run frivolous festivals and silly gatherings, deal in connection and morale—rather than rule with the strict discipline the prime minister intends to deliver.

Yes, yes, quite right. He’s settled it with his conscience now. See? He’s doing the right thing. Yes, most definitely. No doubt in his mind.

He smooths his suit for the umpteenth time and instructs the talking mirror to project his image to the other twelve talking mirrors of Never After. The mirror rolls its eyes, unbelieving that, after millennia of being respected and revered, it has to put up with this stodgy try-hard’s rules. But the mirror has no choice in the matter.

The prime minister takes a breath and commences his announcement.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Never After…,” he begins.