Sir Christopher Marchant

From London Requiem

I wish to speak of Christopher, a name we much admire,
His actions are the ones to which he says we should aspire,
Perhaps we should consider what actions London sees as great,
What deeds we should aspire to, to match his treasured state?

“Let us have a Council” said Channing to his mate,
“Those mean and nasty Dragons have left us in quite a state,
They want an Unconquered Praxis, like in every other town,
But just to spite them, because they asked, we’re going to turn them down.”

So Marchant joined the Council, the hostage now made good,
To maintain Outer London, keep them quiet as they should,
Court officers, they dropped like flies, to minions of Belial,
But Marchant stood aloof of this, secure in his denial.

And so came forth a kindred, to deal with all these woes,
But in saying he would deal with them, he stepped on Chris’s toes,
“Obey my will you little man, I can destroy you with a thought!”
But why fear he whose real body never comes to court?

“I have a mob of knightly chums who’re far more butch than I,
For the honour of Invictus they will all fight and die.”
So when I say ‘what army?’ And you say “This one here.”
Giving in to what you say is common sense, not fear.

Sir Christopher, he did insist, backed by Invictus knights,
That he would get much credit, and his name put up in lights,
I did not wish to fight at once both Marchant and the Brood,
So made a deal and stuck to it, to break a deal is rude.

My deal completed last month, Sir Chris is now admired,
He stays upon the Council, the only one not fired,
He states that London’s will is he is greatest of our kind,
And so in protest publicly, your Priscus Harpy now resigns.