"Cedric Wessex was more than a Hero, he was a Martyr, a witness to Truth, a loyal guardian of this country and the world. I am glad to have known him, even briefly," a middle-aged man, with red hair, green eyes, and a mildly wrinkled face, wearing a formal suit, was saying. He was practicing for Cedric Wessex's funeral, a funeral which would have every trappings of a hero's.

George Maxwell paced around his office, his tears already shed a few hours ago. He had been fond of the young man, despite his flaws, despite evidence of deep blunders just before his death, a death that had erased said blunders. Now was the time to ensure that opportunists in the Senate and the House do not roll back the progress already made, to use the memoty of a martyr as a weapon, a weapon that would bind the nation together...