A wooden stage had been erected below the Lord's box, and Lord Bromley stood there with his Master of Coin beside him. The stands were packed to bursting, even though those in the northern seats could barely see what was happening. There was a small knot of men off to the side, scribes and pages and, between the stage and box, a pair of guards at attention.
A herald moved to the front corner, a piece of paper in one hand. His voice carried incredibly well over the distance and babble of the crowds. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the closing ceremonies of the 296AC Festival of Roses."
