The woman, Isabella, was holding a meeting in the square. It was so distasteful, pandering to everyone. Politics was a game for the elite. For those who understood what was going on and what the stakes were. These, he eyed the throngs in their roughly cut homespun tunics, weren't suitable to choose their own clothes, let alone the direction of Fiore for the next decade.
“We are all suffering.” The voice came from the front of the throng. A woman, short with dark hair, stood on a box so she could be seen even by those to the back. Her voice carried. The people were silent. “Our children are hungry. Sickness ravages us. Our backs are bent with labor that doesn't pay for even the clothes on our back. This is not a world for us to live in. We exist only to serve.” Grumbles punctuated the air.
“There is a path to change. If we could get one of our own to watch the guilds, if nepotism doesn't win in this election, if we take back control, we could have better lives. We could provide food. We could consult doctors. We could wear clothes that don't expose us to the cold and rain.” She rubbed an elbow that showed through her otherwise well-kept clothing. “We can do this.” A few faces had lit at the idea, but most were skeptical.
“It seems impossible to overwhelm the guilds. They have bought all of this Carlo's votes. Their pocketbooks seem endless.” Carlo sunk into the recess of a building when his name was called. “However there are more of us than there are of them. We all have money that we have scrounged and hoarded. You're saving them for a rainy day. But I say this is your rainy day. Take a chance on me so you won't have to take a chance on the rest of your future. Buy as many votes as you can. Cast them for me. I won't disappoint you.”
Her voice quieted from its strident tone. Carlos almost couldn't hear her. “We have nothing to lose.”
Abruptly, she jumped off the box. There was no applause, just the susurration of each person talking to their neighbor.