All the patrons of the beer hall turned their heads toward him.
"Gentlemen, look how pitiful you are, drinking all your sorrows away. Remember, we were once a proud nation, strong and prosperous. But look around now—what has become of us? We've been defeated in war, our economy is in shambles, and the joy we once knew seems like a distant memory."
Ernest paced slightly, his voice carrying across the room, clear and resonant. "But dwelling on our past glories and current miseries won't change our situation. We need to face reality and move forward. It's time to roll up our sleeves and rebuild, not just our buildings, but our spirit and community."
The room was quiet, the usual raucous laughter and shouting had subsided into murmurs and nods. Ernest's words struck a chord, resonating with those who had felt the sting of defeat and the pinch of poverty.
"We can't let this be the end of us," Ernest continued, his tone encouraging. "We've got to find that strength that carried us through tough times before. Yes, we lost a war, but we haven't lost everything. We still have our skills, our courage, and most importantly, each other."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "We need to pull together now more than ever. It's easy to find happiness during good times, but true strength is forged during the bad ones. This is our chance to show what we're made of."
"I want you all to look to the coalition forces who are prospering thanks to their victories, they are looking down on us, thinking we are beaten and broken. But we are not! We are Crentians, resilient and strong, and we can rise again. We must prove to them—and to ourselves—that our spirit is unbreakable. We will take back the territories and colonies that we have lost, the pride and dignity of our nation. It's up to us, every single one of us here, to start making those changes."
Ernest's voice grew firmer, filled with determination. "We don't have to accept this current state as our fate. We can change it, but it starts with our actions today, not tomorrow, not next week, but right now."
The crowd began to stir more animatedly, being inspired and motivated by Ernest's speech.
Ernest could see his words igniting a spark among them, a spark that he hoped would grow into a flame of action and change. And moments later, all of them rose to their feet and clapped their hands enthusiastically, signaling their agreement and readiness to take action. Ernest's straightforward message had clearly resonated, stirring a sense of unity and purpose among those present.
As the applause gradually subsided, several patrons approached Ernest, shaking his hand and expressing their gratitude for his words.
The man who had been talking since he entered the beer hall approached him from behind.
"Sir? Can I speak with you for a moment?" asked the man.
Ernest glanced over his shoulder and nodded. He was led to a private room where six men in black suits were present. They all looked very rich, especially in the way they puffed their tobacco pipes and their polished shoes. The room was dimly lit, giving it a serious and somewhat secretive atmosphere. One of the men, who appeared to be the leader, gestured for Ernest to take a seat at the table.
"Allow me to introduce myself and the gentlemen before here. I am Ludwig von Kleist. I am a member of the Crentian's Workers Party. The man sitting in the center is the founder of the party, his name is Anton Weber. Next to him is Friedrich Bauer, our chief strategist. On his left is Emil Hoffman, who handles our finances, and on the right are Karl Schmidt and Gustav Lehmann, who lead our outreach and operations, respectively."
Ernest took a moment to assess each man as Ludwig introduced them. They all nodded politely, their expressions composed yet expectant as if they were eager to see how Ernest would react to their presence and their proposal.
"It was an amazing speech, Herr?"
"Ernest Teucher," Ernest introduced himself.
"Herr Teucher, the reason why I invited you here is to make you an offer."
"What kind of offer?"
"We want you to become the head of propaganda for our party, how's that sound?" Ludwig smiled, his eyes searching Ernest's for a reaction.
Ernest took a moment to process the proposal. The role of the head of propaganda was significant, especially in a time of such national upheaval. It would give him a platform that he needed to rise to the top, not only, an official position in the party which he can leverage for his own gain.
"What will I get from that position?" Ernest asked.
"Of course, we will incentivize you appropriately," Ludwig replied smoothly. "Apart from a significant salary that reflects the importance of your role, you will have access to resources to effectively communicate our message. You'll have a team, a budget for campaigns, and, perhaps most importantly, a position at the decision-making table within our party."
Hearing that offer, Ernest knew that the party was desperate to attract the attention of the people. Which is why they are willing to give more than enough to make him join.
"So what's the goal of this party?" Ernest asked.
"It's simple, we want to take back the lands stolen by the Treaty of Fontaine and put an end to the crippling payments demanded by the coalition forces," Anton Weber revealed.
"So that's where we'll play our cards," Ernest mused aloud. The goal was simple, yes but it draws in political water because it's what all the people in the Kingdom of Crentis minds. They are also easy to remember.
"Okay, I'm in. I will join your party and become its head of propaganda. But I have conditions," Ernest stated firmly, locking eyes with each man at the table to emphasize his seriousness. "I want complete autonomy over my department. That means I'll be the one crafting the speech."
That way, Ernest could control the narrative and ensure it would benefit him the most and the party.
"Deal," Anton said without hesitation.