[Djallma POV)

“And that is the exact reason for which we need to go beyond the preexisting ‘borders’ and purge the inhuman infidels from existence!” High Veran Leiteli was so impassioned by his speech that sparks and embers could be seen materializing around him as his fist smashed into his lectern for emphasis. The man’s belly strained against his formal robes while his spittle flecks flew into the air and evaporated in the excessive heat surrounding the High Flamespeaker.

“Those bloody dogs and sun-addled cows have been allowed to believe themselves equal to the Veratocracy and her Veushten for too long,” his declaration was echoed by cries of agreement by the traditionalists of the Synod, especially within his followers among the lower Veran, “That they dare make threats to step onto our lands when we have afforded them a ceasefire as a sign of our charity…” Leiteli’s booming voice petered out into an echo as he shook his head in evident disgust while the surge in flickering embers betrayed his emotional state. “I say it is enough! They and those pissants they protect should all be exterminated!”

The Synod’s Chamber burst into dissenting voices as High Veran Leiteli cast a side-eyed and self-satisfied glance at High Veran Djallma. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the rotund warmonger. They had both forsaken their family names in their ascensions to High Veran, but it was obvious that Leiteli still retained his allegiance to the Alniyh family, and, by extension, his animosity towards those of the Nahr. True, Djallma maintained a certain level of trust with the Nahr, her birth family, but nothing so blatant as this deliberate furthering of not the Veratocracy’s wellbeing but that of a singular family’s.

Looking around, the arguments were beginning to die down. Djallma went to stand and begin to shift the flow of the Synod’s discussion, but, before she could, High Veran Salmar spoke. Different from Leiteli, Salmar’s Calling expressed itself in sheer presence of his words. The Windspeaker’s voice settled directly into each present individual’s ear, “Calm yourselves.” The silence came so suddenly it seemed to ring, and Djallma couldn’t hide the smirk that arose as she settled back into her seat, waiting for the old man to set the pompous opposition in its place. Leiteli himself also looked nervously over as the senior member of the High Verans continued. “My Junior companion’s words are worth considering, but so too are those of the progressives. I do ask that both sides are weighed accordingly. Junior companion Djallma?”

She started from her comfortable position, trying to hide the panic that spiked within. She’d been prepared to speak before, but had lost her train of thought when she’d thought Salmar would take the reins. With a breath and force of will, Djallma literally forced the blood flushing her face to drain and retain a collected facade. Calm body, calm mind.

“Thank you, Seniors.” Djallma bowed. She knew Leiteli took pride in his seniority of 34 seconds, she could fan that flame, help it consume him. “As the youngest of the Five, I appreciate the opportunity to address the Synod, incomplete though the august body may be at this time. While appreciative, I also recognize my lack of qualifications to speak for the progressive body, so I hesitate to speak for any ideology or prospective approach wholesale.” Djallma paused, just long enough–

“Then do not speak!” Leiteli’s voice thundered out, his embers nearly bursting into flames of excitement, causing his closest supporters to recoil from the surging heat. How uncouth, to lack control…

“Rool’ss’hai” The sparks and embers surrounding Leiteli flickered as Salmar’s whisper echoed over Leiteli’s shout and through the stone chamber. With a soft, deep hum the air thinned surrounding Leiteli and the embers were robbed of that which allowed them life.

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“You dishonor the Synod’s traditions with your impatience and lack of control.” Salmar spoke no further, his Calling fading while Leiteli ashamedly began to exert conscious control over his innate power.

“I apologize, High Veran Leiteli. I simply was trying to say that I lack the authority to speak for the progressive body as a whole, not that I am incapable of speaking to some of their thoughts.” Djallma let the slight smirk spread across her face, deliberately letting Leiteli know he’d been baited. His face burned with rage and shame as, against his better judgment, he continued to allow more and more embers to spark into existence around him. Djallma simply resumed her address as her associate struggled to reign in his temper.

“The progressives do not shy away from granting the title of personhood to those who are able to speak the common tongue and commit to nonaggression against the Veratocracy. It is true that the beings in question have acted against the Veratocracy, but if the entirety of their species is judged as worthy of immediate eradication, it is unsurprising that they retaliated in kind against a smaller village. The question that many of the progressives wish to ask is thus: Are the keelish not worth more as assets to help control the rest of their kind within our borders, to drive these ‘pests’ as a shock troop against those who truly stand against the Veratocracy? What they have done is done, but does it not behoove us as the Great Synod to see this situation for what it is? An opportunity for growth and strengthening of our great empire? Let us weigh the costs, for the lives have already been lost, why would we not recoup the price that has already been accrued?”

Leiteli’s scornful laugh echoed through the chamber as his face began to purple in rage. “Were you not in the exalted position of High Veran, I would accuse you of heresy for this! I have been lectured for my breach of tradition this day, but what you suggest is nigh on high and absolute heresy! History shows that the keelish are to be exterminated whenever found, and, in case you’d forgotten, the Gran Verat himself led the Great Purge one hundred and eighty-seven years ago! That the progressives would completely disregard our history and our lord is insanity in the greatest sense.”

“The progressives look to progress, and the Gran Verat himself has said ‘that prosperity may be visited upon the chosen, let every resource be exploited’. We have a new resource laid before us, let us not be inhibited and crippled by the past, but instead stride to the future, taking each thing that serves us as we go.”

“You twist the words of the Gran Verat from their intended meaning! An abomination isn’t a resource but a scourge!”

“I mean no disrespect, but why are you the only one who can interpret that which we live by? ‘The mind of the child is unfettered and free, hark your young’. The least educated can be the wisest, why is a difference of opinion that leads to progress something heretical?”

“Again you twist the words of our timeless leader! Only one weak and without a blessing for Speaking with power would indulge in such sophistry!”

“Again, I intend not to disrespect, but He said, ‘the blood of the cripple is as my blood’. The Gran Verat has spoken, saying that even if I was without power we are to be equals. How is this sophistry? How can you attempt to twist His blatant, direct, obvious truth?”

Leiteli’s shoulders and chest heaved as his rage renewed itself to overwhelm him completely, but, with a force of effort not entirely his own, he wrested control back into himself. A rictus of a snarl remained, baring his teeth as Salmar stood and, with a gently raised hand, spoke, his words washing over the Synod’s chamber.

“Both sides have presented their points sufficiently. As my Junior companion said, the whole body of the Synod is not currently present, with Arkeel and Elham of the Five both missing, several of the Thirty Five, as well as the heads of the Seven Families. We invite you to explain the points raised today to your compatriots, for there will be a vote brought before the body before it is formally presented to the Holy One.

“Thank you for attending as members of the Synod. May your Callings ever be potent.” Salmar nodded deeply, dismissing the members as, nearly imperceptibly, a windword whispered in Djallma’s ear.

“Come with me now, please.”