November 15th, 892, marked the passage of a sluggish week since the Avalonian nation had cast their votes, their collective hopes entwined with the forthcoming announcement of their next president. In an era long before the advent of instantaneous communication, news traveled at the mercy of horse hooves and the unwinding of telegraph wires. As the sun ascended its midday arc, the atmosphere crackled with palpable anticipation in the bustling town square of the company town. Here, a multitude of expectant faces of the company's factory workers turned as one towards the podium that stood as the focal point. Amidst the throngs of eager onlookers stood the notable figures of Poul, Jonathan, Morgan, Sara, Caroline, and Amelia.
"Do you want me to spoil you with the result, Poul?" Morgan asked.
"There's no need, I'll know soon enough so just be quiet there," Poul replied.
