A tremendous cheer rose from the gathered crowd; hooves stomped in applause and the icy walls of the city rang with joyful shouts and whistles.  The city's central plaza was full; from the edge of the central stage all the way back to the stone streets that encircled the plaza, ponies were packed shoulder-to-shoulder.  Many more leaned from the walkways of the higher street and from the windows and the rooftops; nearly the entire city had turned out for the speech.  A sea of bright, pastel colors dotted the mixed stone and pale ice and dark iron of the city nearest.  All attention was on the tall figure of Forgath, standing atop the stage towards one edge, clad in his full armor, freshly polished, his helmet adorned with the spiky crown of his rule.  Behind him, in the very center of the stage, the pillar of dark fire yet blazed.  Its flickering flames lapped out from the column as it rose high, leaving any who looked at it too long to perceive agonized shapes in its tongues.  On the stage with him were a small court of ponies - just shy of a dozen.  They stood proudly, two in their concealing robes, three in armor, and six in rather snazzy suits (all in properly dark tones, of course).  To either side of the line upon the stage were two clusters of ponies, less extravagantly but no less formally dressed.  They sent the occasional smile and wave out towards the crowd whenever Forgath was not looking - and as the Lord's attention moved from point to point in the crowd, he was not looking most of the time.