Dellynthelaara had a hard squint in her clear eyes as she peered through the gathered crowd. Slowly, she let her gaze follow, drinking the sight of every figure seated on their high-backed throne atop their own private chambers. Each chamber, boasting its own entrance, ensuring privacy for each house, while still offering the Matriarchs, a clear view of those in the central circle. Her eyes stood transfixed for a narrow, subtle moment at the empty chamber of House Aealaninth. The gilded ornate throne, the absolute seat of power in House Aealaninth and the authority of the future queen of the drows, stood empty.

Dellynthelaara could only suppress her scoff at the impudence of those who dared to summon her. The foolish bravado with which they hoped to shackle her to their will only served to infuriate the young matron more. Better she should cull the herd now than endure a mockery later. She stifled a peal of laughter under her breath. When will these illustrious Matrons with fancy titles ever learn? Time and again they rose to challenge her, and every time she made them pay for their insolence.

She slowly strode out across the curved marble floor toward the gilded dais crafted by the oldest of wood and stone, draped by a silken fabric of the most exquisite spider silk. The dais, without any ground structure to hold and almost purely held by four enormous davits, did not swing or undulate as Dellynthelaara set her foot upon it.

You dare to invade my own coronation with your petty power struggles? She thought to herself as a contingent of Sequestered Conciliators rushed forth to cut her entourage from following her on the dais. Sequestered Conciliators and not Sanctum Templars. Within the wide cavernous halls of the council of high houses, where charges are pressed even against Sequestered Conciliators, the Sanctum Templars, a very narrow and obscure force, guaranteed neutrality. Dellynthelaara made a mental note of it.

Even under the derision from their attack on Dellynthelaara's own retinue, and by extension, the young matron herself, she did not acknowledge their fierceness -- openly. She will not abandon her carefully crafted control, nor will she let the facade on her face drop. Only in subtle and diplomatic ways does one win battles -- Steel is just there to celebrate the victory should the fools refuse to acknowledge their loss. Dellynthelaara needed no special training in that regard. Confidence, especially in front of a political audience, came to her naturally.

General Sathry Sosildran sashayed into the ceremonious hall, trailed by two of his aides. Both in the official scribe attire, a non-battle and still awe-inspiring civil uniform of the Sequestered Conciliators. The General himself wore a long mantle with the sign of his office emblazoned proudly. Narrow pinstripes of black gold on crimson, completed his outstanding design. The only one among the famed Sequestered Conciliators who is allowed to use the sign. The highfalutin cloak cascaded down from the top of his thick black hair back into a long rakish braid and pinned to the front of his chest. The clink of metal against metal as he walked, the gleaming black sabatons on his feet -- He was dressed for combat beneath. The young matron could almost discern the dark grey armour, accented with silver and gold trims beneath his huge carefully wrapped cloak.

"Lady Dellynthelaara!" He bowed to acknowledge her. No Matron -- Just Lady. Another fool who seeks to underestimate her. In what was clearly an effort to disguise some flaws, Dellynthelaara dismissed the man's appearance. That ill-cultivated attempt at elegance and fashion was beneath him, nothing of significance could be expected. Besides, even as a sole commander of the Sequestered Conciliators and by proxy, beyond the control of any individual high house, he hardly represented anything serious, save petty ego.

The other two scribes following in his wake, decorated officers whom she had probably met once before and only fleetingly; one had looked mirthful, whereas the other wore features of severity. Neither hinted at importance nor rank and simply hurried after their General. They made an elaborate attempt to not make themselves worthy of notice. Passing as merely glorified court scribes whose service and duty ran parallel to their master. But their gait that Dellynthelaara was subjected to did hint at something greater; military secretarial duties, perhaps. Despite their simple uniforms and robes, Dellynthelaara knew one could not lie about rank at times. Unless proven otherwise, there always remained room for further deception.

Ignoring the scribes for a moment, she mused at the many faces in the chambers gathered to witness her particular fate. How easy a judgement it is for a group so unbalanced in arrogance? Such defects shall soon be remedied......

Every face, from Matriarch to low-ranking attendants, held a scowl like an envenomed dagger posed to strike. No particular attempt was made to mask their attitude. Dellynthelaara owed her position solely to her mother and a genealogical anomaly -- not a sliver of worth given to her directly. It is this position they hoped -- deliberately -- to strip her off.

"Lords and Ladies." Her voice rang forth over the massive space within the ancient grounds of her people, magnificently complemented by its rich marbles embedded in imported veneers and the golden embellished tapestries directly over the chambers of every noble house. No doubt, exaggeratedly enriching their own history.

"Be silent, none, least of all the accused, may speak during this pronouncement." Arianella alluded to her. The former Matriarch and current councillor to the Matriarch of House Vumdryss was as spindly as a malnourished spider. Her bones croaked as she moved about, turning from her cushioned seat. Her troubled breath reeked of fetid poison, slowly permeating the hall.

"Greetings. I have been charged before you today." Dellynthelaara choose to ignore the old crone. She will not budge from her presence. Will not let her voice taunt her.

"I brought the accusations," countered General Sathry Sosildran, "As well as witnesses to say what transpired."

Here comes the part where Dellynthelaara was supposed to repeat the ancient tradition -- of subterfuge and deceit.

He donned a grim yet determined expression, challenging those surrounding him to challenge him on their own. The minor figures, lesser nobles and civil officials of no particular norm paused and glared up at her -- awaiting her refusal. Their level of nervousness was simply astute. But Dellynthelaara said nothing -- Of course not.

This was only a sham. A mockery to see if anyone in their realm would dare interfere with House Aealaninth's downfall. Their scrupulous execution of keeping even her own retainers -- save for said retinues -- silent was indeed remarkable. This was standard drow practice. There was nothing new that was emerging here.

Her entire body shivered as the burden of suspicion landed heavily upon her shoulders. Dellynthelaara was not worried about her own survival. Nor was she intimidated by the collection of High Drow Houses. There are other things she feared the most. Things she wished to forget. Monsters lurking in her subconscious or perhaps, it was her subconscious that lurked among where monsters dwelt. And the strange woman who stalked her. Relentlessly. Never approaching, only silently observing. And the multitude of silent whispers promising her to fulfil her inert desires, but never in tandem.

Then, there is her mother. Dellynthelaara only felt a revolting rise of churning bile up her throat with the thought. To think that she would employ a trick so repulsive -- to have Savvas seduced just so she could consolidate her hold on her daughter -- made her desperate. She feared for Savvas. Both physically and emotionally. Will he break when he hears of Celerim's ulterior motives?

She has never seen her cousin... no.... her only family.... her brother so deeply enamoured with anyone. The thought made her sink to her knees, like the dais she stood on suddenly became the precipice of an endless crater. It was her cursed fate to break the news to him. How would he respond knowing that he was just an assignment for his lover? That Celerim took his whole love and twisted it like a piece of wet rug to wash away the stains in her mother's employment? What if he broke, just like her?

She hated House Aealaninth more than any among the gathered. A cruel jest of fate. It sickened her, how the mothers of her House would cruelly push their daughters through the ravenous maw of despair. Only to have their own flailing ambitions fulfilled. She could feel the growing desperation behind her iron control as the time to act grew ever nearer. She dreaded that one day, her mother would return to obliterate all that she had meticulously built over time. She would wrench all those powers from her -- save for one.

Almost anyone else would succumb to overwhelming pressure. Even those of great strength who do not fear forces battering against them would succumb. But not Dellynthelaara. Panicked. Yes. But succumb she will not. Not after so many cunningly crafted plans and one-to-many daring attempts. She is now on the verge of her first goal. The first of the many blood-painted stairs to ascend. And she will not be denied; neither her crown of the Drows nor the future role that she intended to play.

Losing here did not mean the end for Dellynthelaara. It only meant the end of her ambition. And all the Dark-elf houses would be aware of her latent powers. Powers she cannot explain herself, but powers that will undoubtedly lead to persecution from every House. Only the life of a rabid hound, hunted forever, awaited her -- should she fail.

Her contemplation fuelled into furious wrath but the emotionless dark elves of the high houses ignored it entirely, sitting complacently until the dispute was resolved in their favour. General Sathry Sosildran is only their unwilling and more importantly, unknowing sock puppet before her. Dellynthelaara should know better. Never leave dangling threads in the fine tapestry. To consolidate her hold, she should not only prove herself but also squash even the tiniest pocket of resistance against her. And she would crush them mercilessly, till future voices against her will be muffled under the echoes of her brutal actions.

"The heinous and unsanctioned murder of High-Priestess Sinvaintra," shouted General Sathry Sosildran," with a company of her House Guards impersonating the illustrious Sequestered Conciliators."

"These are grave charges, your future majesty," Arianella addressed her with cold impassivity. All she needed to hide the rawness of her vexation, was a thin wispy veil of delicate old woman across her face. Despite her age, Arianella is no delicate flower. Behind her weak facade, stood a cunning diplomat reeking of tainted methods. All colours, pale and lifeless due to the decay of age seemed equally incongruous to the frail drow's spindly arms and legs.

Dellynthelaara choose to go after the weakest of her enemies. General Sathry Sosildran. An absolute beast on the battlefield and an inexperienced fledgling in politics. Smear taint on his reputation, before invalidating his tiniest concerns. Erode his strongly erected claim, little by little.

"General Sathry Sosildran, your inability to run your own office is baffling," rasped Dellynthelaara bluntly, "The requisition forms for the Sequestered Conciliators have long been sent to your office. Your oversight in keeping track of deployments has cost me valuable time."

Her words were perfectly balanced like platters atop the sharp end of a dagger tip. Wavering with feigned quiet amusement and ignoring the uproarious murmurs that broke out among the Nobles and soldiers alike, she exposed his pettiness further.

"Perhaps you wished to reap the rewards towards a paltry mission led by your soldiers, but your harassment of a Matriarch over a simple gain of fame is unacceptable."

"Those transfers were never approved by the council," chimed in Matron Dyrsllyn. Dellynthelaara bore no particular feelings towards Matron Dyrsylln. But the young uncrowned queen considered the Matriarch to latch on like a parasite eager to consume an underserving host. Alone she posed no threat but together, she contributed to more than disrupting the proceeding to no mere extent.

"In the case of an imminent threat to a Matriarch or her immediate household, a ruling Matron can always procure the services of Sequestered Conciliators without any prior approval from the council," replied Dellynthelaara while subtly concealing a hint of sarcasm with a careful cadence. While she continued speaking, Dellynthelaara fixated on what appeared very near the farthest periphery of the circular hall. An old, clad in rags figure -- whose visage was covered in the darkest of shadows of the cloak -- moved with a certain familiarity.

"And the unsanctioned murder of High-Priestess Sinvaintra?" asked Matriarch Redelinde, addressing Dellynthelaara with the gold necklace around her neck flashing -- seemingly larger in some ways with each turn of her head. She let loose a short snort of unbridled laughter in order to display her pleasure in tormenting her equals.

With no social grace, she proceeded, "How was her death sanctionable, either way? Did I miss anything?"

Matron Viryeth interrupted the overtly bombastic glee of Redelinde. "No it wasn't and that is why she faces the charges."

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It was at that moment that Dellynthelaara knew with certainty that her enemies were a few steps ahead of her, especially in their flair for coordinated treachery.

"Sinvaintra and her children are to be blamed. It was a peaceful audit regarding discrepancies in finances and her tenebrous weavers struck first. In the ensuing chaos, High-Priestess Sinvaintra isolated me from the chain of command. Obviously, she either overestimated her children or underestimated the Sequestered Conciliators," replied Dellynthelaara sourly, noticing a cabal of mages gathering behind Matriarch Viryeth and Redelinde.

"Not my Sequestered Conciliators, but your House Guards masquerading as Sequestered Conciliators," shouted General Sathry Sosildran in rage. Behind his dark-steel gauntlet, his knuckles paled as he clenched his palms tightly.

"Then General Sathry Sosildran," said Dellynthelaara in a nonchalant tone that she knew would infuriate the enraged General more, "Either my house guards were far more proficient than your famed Sequestered Conciliators or your Soldiers have lost their mettle."

Sweat darkened the front of his face as the grisly affront pierced through his very core. Unable to defend himself properly, and shackled to an insult depriving him of his pride, General Sathry Sosildran clearly became frantic. His pride buckled beneath the intense wave of ignominy, washing away all his hard-earned shiny achievements. His eyes darted like caged swallows -- from one chamber to another -- pleading for the salvation of any form.

"The council will not abide by this. General Sathry Sosildran is an esteemed member and a foremost leader of our people," came the controlled voice of Dyrsylln. Dellynthelaara could feel the wave of malice intent rolling through her words. Dryness infused with the sting of poison accentuated the scowl of Matron Dyrsylln. She abhorred Dellynthelaara already. Now, she loathed her involvement much more, causing her contempt to give birth to pure wickedness.

"General Sathry Sosildran knows his place among the drows and what it takes to realise it," spoke Matron Viryeth with all the pomp and fawning flattery required in such proceedings.

Dellynthelaara channelled anger in straightening her spine and raked the most desired traits of malignance upon her slender regal form. Eyes burning in a pitch of red lust for vengeance as they stung venom to test her dauntlessness, crystallising a series of lethal plans in motion. Ignoring the roiling caution of a boiling cauldron, Dellynthelaara choose to gamble. She carefully masked her emotions and in one smooth flowing motion, like the gentle breeze whispering through an orchid, she collected the folds of her long-sleeved robe.

"He does not even know that it is not his place to arm the Sequestered Conciliators in this Hall. Where are the Sanctum Templars? His Sequestered Conciliators have just usurped their position. Without the involvement of the Sanctum Templars, I call a mistrial." She finished calmly as her eyes glittered through her closing eyelids.

Sheer silence reigned in the Council with Dellynthelaara's words. Every Matron and their retinue, sitting in their high chambers stared at her with murder painted and poisoned dagger unsheathed. Unheeding the myriad of threats tumbling in her direction, Dellynthelaara sniffled and directed her challenge at General Sathry Sosildran. Only the croaking laughter, an unpleasant grating noise, from Arianella, the oldest of the gathered, cut the tension in the air.

"You gullible child. Do you even realise what you are asking for?" Her mocking laughter permeated the halls, and slowly reverberated from the cavernous walls, multiplying her irritating laughter a thousand-fold. Dellynthelaara winced at the affront of being addressed -- Child.

"Never thought these old bones will live the day to see a Matriarch of House Aealaninth enquiring the whereabouts of Sanctum Templars," she continued. Laughter echoed as she laughed again, drawing the attention of every drow staring at her. But her jeers failed to give vent to her stored fury.

"You have insulted the Sequestered Conciliators thrice. I cannot allow this mockery to continue. We will settle it the old-fashioned way -- steel against steel. I request the esteemed council to permit a duel till death," shrieked General Sathry Sosildran.

Upon hearing his proposal, Dellynthelaara hesitated and then smirked. Although her spine stiffened with formal pride, warily parting her lips and shaking her long flowing hair, she twiddled her manicured fingers beneath the sleeves of her robes. Savvas is the greatest duellist of all the drows. Surely, General Sathry Sosildran might be a consummate warrior but in a one-on-one duel, he cannot hope to best her brother. His days are already numbered.

"Now," he roared denying her, her victory.

"Granted," the painful verdict slowly tickled down from one High House chamber after another. Behind her, Dellynthelaara could almost feel Celerim tightening his grip upon the hilt of The Sentinel. Will Celerim be able to hold his own against the famed General of the drows? She feared The Sentinel even more. His blade might win him the day or seal his fate. Uncertainty tugged at her sleeves.

"I am aware that House Aealaninth does not follow old norms, but I cannot allow the fate of our race to be decided by the blade skill of an outsider," spat Matriarch Redelinde shrilly in clear irritation.

"A Matriarch should have protected her people from the incursion of outsiders, not collude with them," added General Sathry Sosildran surprising Dellynthelaara. For all she could remember, the General valued valour more than birth.

"Celerim is a member of House Aealaninth and will be treated as such." The Young Matron was surprised by her own admission and in her decision to defend Celerim. After all, he is her mother's spy. She should have happily thrown him to the wolves.

"So what? I love my hunting hounds. Even share morsels from my own bowl when I camp in the wilderness with them. But I do not invite them and offer a place at my dinning table," countered a spiteful Sathry. While high up in her chambers, Matriarch Viryeth smirked exposing her stained teeth.

Unimpressed with the taunts and despondent, Dellynthelaara attempted to ignore the jowls of all. A task that she found impossible under conditions. Irritation filled her as the council strayed onto forbidden grounds. For Dellynthelaara, one thing became certain. Regardless of the discord, she felt toward the high-elf and even though it was only through a planned marriage, he is now her brother. Her family. And only she gets to hurt her siblings; no one else.

Celerim stepped up beside Dellynthelaara, sending a sword tip pointed straight at General Sathry Sosildran. His non-callous hand slowly held her hands and gave a gentle squeeze in assurance. Dellynthelaara felt deeply conflicted about his actions. Celerim's reaction to the duel shocked her.

Why would anyone volunteer to gamble their life away for a simple assignment?

What kind of hold did her mother have on him?

Perhaps, she threatened the life of someone he cared about? Such methods were well within the realm of possibility when it concerns her mother.

Nevertheless, she cannot allow her life and the fate of everything to the blade of a traitor. Acknowledging him as her champion would be akin to letting her mother claw her way deep inside her still-healing heart. She will not exchange one shackle for another. In a firm resolve, Dellynthelaara yanked her hand free from Celerim's hold. Only pain and disappointment clouded the high elf's face at her unexpected action.

Celerim suppressed the rising inner turmoil from reaching the surface and lurched away from her. Giving her the space she needed. Torn between worry over her sudden change -- especially after mysteriously reappearing unharmed after her disappearance -- he half-concerned and half-exhausted reached the attendants of House Aealaninth. He wondered how his arms and legs felt so heavy. Was it the mockery of all the gathered Dark-elf Nobles or was it her recently erected barriers around him? Pushing him away every time he approached her.

A part of him wished that he could abandon all. Forget the fateful moment when he met her. That hellish landscape where he took her offer. Only the thoughts of Savvas were all the kept him sane and he took any deal to be with his lover. He longed for the ebony hands of his lover to caress his back. There was something magical, almost alluring, vulnerable and yet fulfilling in the way Savvas grabbed his hips while filling him.

Yet the wretched promise he made to Aunt Dreaya drained him of everything. Even Savvas, the only constant guiding light in his life, is now almost a stranger. It transformed him into something else. Numbed him, almost as if ice clung to his chilled skin. Wishing only for her comfort to occupy all his thoughts and actions, her withdrawal only made the aching emptiness squeeze inside him tighter. Even after having his heart pecked and bared open, he still cannot break an oath to her.

As close as the tightest sibling bond, it only fueled his burning need to protect her. Yet each moment she cast him aside consumed him heavily. The torment mounted in waves crashing with speed towards something devastating. It didn't matter how he visualised it or in which form he saw himself. All he knew is the oncoming of an unimaginable calamity, far beyond anything he could do to prevent it.

Oblivious or stoic to the effect of her actions on Celerim, Dellynthelaara shred the first layer of her official robe and stepped before General Sathry Sosildran. Before she stood, the famed hero of the Drows, bereft of his cloak and with his enchanted full plate armour glistened from its dark grey surface. Dellynthelaara could even vaguely make out the effect of the enchantment as a barely discernible afterglow enveloped her opponent; very subtle and mirage-like.

Her sheer elegance drew the eye of every observer present. Though a lone aristocrat, she managed to flawlessly move in long fluid strides with the stalking grace of a panther. Her challenger drew his offered blade off its sheath, twirling the edge with the finesse expected from one who had honed the deadly art for a lifetime.

Dellynthelaara, instead stood with her hands unarmed. Her mind raced frantically. Neither The Sentinel nor Reminiscence, especially Reminiscence, will fare no better than twigs in her hands. In a duel, she cannot summon any. Channelling her abilities will definitely bring the duel to an early finish and also the wrath of every House. With a grim smile flashed across her mouth, Dellynthelaara uttered a single short word.

Shocked faces turned quickly towards the far end of the circular hall where a familiar voice came from.

"Child, if you are in need of a champion, I might as well volunteer since I made the journey till here anyway," said the figure from inside the tattered cloak.

Dellynthelaara almost hopped in happiness, forgetting the death lingering dangerously close to her as she heard the voice of Raknar.

"I travelled here because I was worried about you and my sense of fears has never proven me wrong," he said. His face still held the kind grandfatherly amicable, and yet somewhat stupid smile.

Dellynthelaara was unable to shake off the immense feeling of relief engulfing her for some unexplainable reason. Something assured her that they would come to her in her time of need. Despite being desperate to hold on to her own, she still threw Raknar an astonished look. A grin overshadowed her countenance, reminding her of the happier times when he desperately attempted to amuse her with tales over their shared meal.

"Just what place does a beggar have in this council?" screamed Matriarch Redelinde.

"Roast him on a pike for his insolence," decreed Matriarch Viryeth.

Only Arianella lurched forward, whispering low to the Ruling Matriarch of House Vumdryss. When she finished, she raised her ageing body, leaned over the railings and with the disgust of someone who accidentally stepped on an animal dropping, she spoke for all to hear, "Ignore him. He comes and goes as he pleases. None of you can stop the Wraith of the Tempest brigade, especially not in this hall."

"Why?" asked an annoyed General Sathry Sosildran. His annoyance had more to do with the delay in enacting his flavour of justice upon Dellynthelaara.

"Unfortunately, he is also the derelict commander of the Sanctum Templars," scoffed Arianella.

"If he is derelict, why is he not replaced?" questioned Matriarch Dyrsylln.

"Simple little one," spoke the old drow, "I keep myself away from petty politics."

"And also the fact that many tried and none succeded," muttered Arianella under her breath.

Covering the wide distance of the circular Hall swiftly, he reached Dellynthelaara and uttered, "Appoint me your champion and I will prove that those elaborate dinner tales were not fabricated."

He winked one eye to the best possible effect. The twinkle in his golden eyes offered hope to Dellynthelaara and much to her chagrin, she found a strange comfort in trusting him. It seemed as if he was sent by fate to deliver the poor child from misery. But Dellynthelaara knew better than to trust such bedtime stories. Such illusions lie outside her. But his next words forced her to appoint him, her champion.

Whispering in a tone that was audible only to be heard by her, he said, "Your powers are still raw and untempered. Do not use it recklessly in front of them. There are bigger threats in other realms."

"The commander of the Sanctum Templars cannot be the champion of one house," declared Matriarch Dyrsylln.

"Your station as a commander of Sanctum Templars demands neutrality," she added.

Not one to sit idly around, the question begged for answers. Dark mischief appeared in his crinkled eyes. His sharp, suspicious gaze peered over the top of his tattered robes. In a clear orotund voice, that carried over the huge hall, he addressed them.

"I would like to resign from my position as commander of the Sanctum Templars."

While confusion rolled off in waves and in the form of murmured whispers from the gathered Nobles and Matriarchs, only Arianella held a bemused expression. Grinding her teeth together, she chose carefully. The game was beyond her now. To be able to overturn justice that has already been imposed. Any further attempt involved taking a risk and definitely incurring the wrath of the future queen. In the end, she sighed in resignation.

"I am surprised by your decision, Altonarrak. But considering who it is, the outcome is expected."

Without waiting for an acknowledgement, she turned her attention towards General Sathry Sosildran and cautioned, "You will be wise to abandon the duel, for before you stands the strongest duellist and best hex blade. There are only two people who could probably, even marginally, meet his challenge. He willingly withdrew from duelling Lyriendriath of the unerring forge."

"And the second," she paused and slowly liberated from trepidation her toneless voice uttered, "Rylonvirah with her Urumi could keep him at bay."

With obvious disgust written on their faces, every face assembled, stared at Arianella. The name of the infamous fallen Matriarch has long been taboo. Some even shuddered on hearing her name referred to in a heroic light. General Sathry Sosildran was one of them. Turning his eyes around with a vacant stare, his chest heaved and in measured movement, he tapped the floor with the tip of his blade. The resulting sound echoed across the Hall demanding silence. As all eyes fell on him, his expression instantly regained its composure and became filled with steel. Gone were the mocking smile and eerie chuckles.

"I do intend to sit by idly, cowering at stories and tales of Legends from bygone eras. Justice is all that I want and I would see to it now."

With those words, General Sathry Sosildran assumed a battle stance.