"--No Mercy."
                Everything had gone to shit in a matter of seconds.   The chain of events that had led up to this public address spelt out the beginning of the end, and every poor citizen in Columbia - at least, those nearest to the Comstock family - had been thrown into a panic. The Lamb had been taken from them, her tower destroyed, and the Prophet had left them at the mercy of the Vox Populi as he struggled to steal the Miracle Child away from the so-called False Shepard. As First Lady, Amelia had to calm the ever loyal Flock as whatever relative peace they had established slowly disintegrated. The absence of the Prophet and concentration of military forces left them all too vulnerable to attacks, and with outlandish rumours flying about the Vox, it was up to Lady Comstock to tame the beast.   Truthfully, Comstock, the Shepherd and the Lamb could go to hell. Amelia loathed her husband's bastard, and whomever took her away would make sure that the First Lady would never have to lay eyes on any security footage or photographs of her supposed daughter, yet would hear of her until she met her maker. As for her husband... well, he was the second to break her heart, and though Amelia had tried so very hard to forgive him for all things, she remained bitter.    What she was worried about, however, was the Vox Populi. It seemed as though everyone had the Vox on the brain. Joining the Vox, supporting the Vox, killing the Vox... conspiracy after conspiracy theory had been thrown around, including false plan after false plan. The very idea that her old maid, one of her favourites and closest confidants had completely turned her back on the New Eden, with the intent of destroying everything it stood for made her stomach churn. How could she do this?!           It wasn't as though Amelia could blame Daisy.    The murder of one of Comstock's biggest political enemies had been the Prophet's triumph and Fitzroy's downfall. The man had been strangled in his sleep, and Daisy, who had been instructed to wait on both politician and First Lady had lingered too long in the dead man's room.          And Amelia had stayed silent.                 Pondering it, she felt more guilt concerning that affair than her conduct when the Lamb had been brought to her.    Facing the crowd of expectant, apprehensive faces, the First Lady felt a serge of maternal instincts; which only appeared in front of her Flock. They were her children seeking the guidance and wisdom of a mother, and Amelia would gladly give such careful reassurance when they desired and needed it. The anxious, whispering crowd quieted and an expectant, hushed air fell as Lady Comstock faced them, her gloved hands spreading in that inviting, helpless gesture that rendered her vulnerable and had become so associated with Columbia's First Lady: who was holding up better than expected, considering that her daughter was missing.   Clearing her throat, she spoke; her breathy voice warbling with emotion that befitted a débutante coping with her first heartbreak.          "--My children, I know what you are feeling... you feel lost, as though the end is near; but I assure you, there is nothing to fear and that our beloved Prophet will restore order, peace; the Lamb... and destroy the Vox Populi in the process."   She paused, collecting her thoughts as the crowd listened eagerly, expectantly; lapping up the lies she spilt with ease.            Good Lord, this would be a long day.
