*Tap Tap Tap Tap*

Baal impatiently tapped his fingers on the hard, pine desk seated just ever so slightly off-center in the large antechamber used for public meetings or large council sessions. In particular, today it was being used for an emergency session, and somehow, he was still the first to arrive. The impatient finger tap itself wasn’t so much a natural tick, as it was an intentional design to make him seem more human and blend in better, and had become unconscious habit through sheer repetition.

To his right was an empty seat, reserved for Eric, the assistant branch manager, and to his left sat a rather non-descript young man serving as his stenographer during these meetings. The young man sat with a stiff, upright posture while he held an odd device loaded with a single mana crystal over a stack of empty papers. The device itself was mostly a shell, with numerous circuits engraved into it and running from the edges to coalesce into a runic circle in the center.

“Just to make sure, you placed in a fully charged crystal? We won’t want to miss a single detail from this meeting.” Baal glanced sideways towards his assistant as he spoke, watching as a small dance of mana rays shot out from the device and rapidly began carving words into the paper. The stenographers hand moved slowly across the top of the paper until the full statement was painted on. Without a word, the man nodded his head.

Ah, and this is why you are my favorite recorder! Even if you cannot speak, you can so quickly grasp our language and do your job perfectly! Such gems like these are why I will never let someone else get their hands on an other-worlder if I can help it!

At the thought, Baal began to tap a little faster and a little harder.

Still, who would have the audacity to waltz in to my office? My ward kicked off as soon as they entered, and while I wouldn’t be foolish enough to scry right in the courtyard of the city hall, I can at least tell that they haven’t moved around the office after entering. Elsie would have certainly not allowed any surprise guests through… however, if one did manage to come by, Eric should be able to handle them well enough.

Soon enough, though, his thoughts were interrupt by the sounds of a flurry of movement. The front half of the antechamber comprised of a set of large desks running in a semi-circle across the room, split in half by a stairwell leading up to a central dais, and each quadrant was split in to two identical levels. Behind the uppermost level of each quadrant was a set of large doors, through which a large number of attendants and representatives began to filter in.

One well-dressed attendant, wearing a bright red overcoat and black pants and serving as the master of ceremonies, hustled over to the dais and began announcing the arrival of each member.

“NOW WELCOMING MINISTERS AGÉ, ROLF, AND YRSA INTO THE CHAMBER! NOW WELCOMING MAGISTRATE BARAM SILVERTONGUE INTO THE CHAMBER!”

As the master of ceremonies continued his announcements, Agé, an older man bent over with the weight of many years, hobbled in to the room with his cane. He was followed by Rolf, a proud and simply dressed wolfkin, who had a streak of silver fur running up his snout and around his eyes accentuating a scar running across one of his fierce eyes. Minister Yrsa was no less imposing, as she was a strongly built Njordic woman with stout shoulders and a piercing gaze from her brown eyes. She had also forgone the traditional feminine attire for a purely professional outfit with black trousers and a blue tailcoat.

After the initial group of ministers entered and seated themselves in the upper left quadrant, Magistrate Baram entered, his eyes furtively darting around the room before joining the ministers with his entourage. The attendees continued filling in the room in this fashion, with the trade guilds occupying the lower level in the left quadrant and temple representatives in the lower level of the right quadrant, with the nobles occupying the upper level of the right quadrant.

Amongst the trade guilds, the major representatives were Patricians Antonius, a jovial and portly man from the Merchant’s Guild, Gortrub and Brineholdt, a stocky orc and njord representing the Craftsmen, and Harbormaster Ragnar Lodbrok, an imposing giant of a man who looked entirely out of place in his dress attire. Rather, one might think he looked like a raging berserker whose veiny muscles would shred his clothes at the slightest provocation as he bashed your skull into a pulpy mess. The fact that his brow was permanently furrowed, enhancing a permanent look of absolute rage, did nothing to help his image.

Then there were the nobles, with Baronettes Sverkir Nostradd and Harald Ormstone seated alongside Jarl’s Astrid, Adam and Ulfdan, representing the smaller townships and holdings surrounding Njord. Seated in the level below them were the temple leaders, most notably Abbot Costello representing the temple of Ishtar, adorned in flashy red and white robes, Gothi Tyr representing the temple to Thor, and wearing a traditional light brown robe, and lastly Acting Chief Priest Kobari, representing the temple of Inari, dressed in a formal blue shōzoku.

“Even in an emergency session… these damn bureaucrats and their ceremonies are such an absolute pain to go through…” Baal muttered to himself, before glancing at his stenographer to make doubly sure that his grievance wasn’t accidentally recorded.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Good man! This one certainly has a much better aptitude than my last assistant!

He shuddered a moment, as he recalled the overly-thorough notes from his last summons before the council.

If anyone had seen all my gripes from that session… this damn council would have hosted another session just to grill me on my commentary!

Without the fanfare of the master of ceremonies, Guard Captains’ Brunhilde and Ross quietly entered from the main doors at the back of the room and sat in the front-most row behind Baal’s table, along with the Royal Knight Garrison Commander Krom and a young esquire following behind him.

The Master of Ceremonies face trembled a little as he watched Krom enter, and while the Royal Knight Commander was entitled to an announcement, the attendant carefully made sure to pass over his name on the list. Unlike the larger egos that governed the city, the garrison commander was a no-nonsense man absolutely disinterested in the politics of the city. The countless scars adorning his chiseled face alone were testament enough to how this man had earned his position, and he abhorred the spotlight. His crushing gaze, like that of a panther stalking its prey in the night, was reminder enough for the lowly attendant.

Thankfully, the attendant had the last two names to announce and could give his throat a rest.

“ALL RISE, NOW ARRIVING ARE CHIEF MINISTER IVAR ‘THE BONELESS’ AND BARON HALFGAAR HALFHAND!”

Simultaneously entering the room from the left and right quadrant doors were the two most powerful men in the city, and who could look no less different than night and day. Despite being pushed into the room on a wheelchair and having a body as frail as the starlight on a cloudy night, his grey eyes were as sharp as an Eagle’s and did not hesitate to assess every member present. With a curt nod to suit his scowling face, all the councilmen and guild leaders took their seats.

Baron Halfgaar, alternatively, strode in with a domineering presence. His light blue eyes wandered lazily to his seat, and when paired with his flowing blond hair, prime physique and exquisite dress gave the impression of a man without the slightest shred of worry and absolute self-confidence. He lightly waved his hand in the air as he strode to his seat, which was far more ornate than the others in the room, signaling for the nobles and priests to take their seats.

“So, Acting Chief Priest of the Inari Temple, what issue is so urgent that you sought to call for an emergency session of the council and interrupted our business in handling the urgent affairs addressing our city?” Baron Halfgaar ensured he placed special emphasis into the ‘Acting’ part of the priest’s title which elicited smirks from many of the nobles present, while he otherwise carried a disinterested tone.

In response, the elderly Kobari stood up firmly, a small fire alight in his eyes.

“My lord, I called this session because we are facing an unprecedented disaster! Just yester-“

“What?! An UN-precedented disaster? And you know about this before US?” Jarl Astrid cut off the priest with a sneer and a feigned visage of shock.

“My La-“ he attempted again.

“Is this worse than the storm which ravaged our fair city?” she interrupted again, ignoring the priests growing frustration.

“If you-“

“OR how about the flood of refugees starting to pour into our towns’ every single day?”

“Just let me-“ The priests face was reddening severely at the continued disrespect towards him.

“Ah, I know, this is about the supply issues plaguing your temples then?” She continued, showing nothing short of contempt.

“ENOUGH, Jarl Astrid! Allow the man to speak before you vent your petty grievances upon him!” Ivar’s sharp voice boomed authoritatively across the chamber, as Astrid’s eyes bulged.

“You would DARE-“ This time, Astrid was cut off with a sharp glare from the Baron, and a subtle nod towards the Harbormaster. The thick oaken table was rapidly getting riddled with cracks, centered on Ragnar’s fists. She could feel the weight of his unrelenting gaze, just daring her to finish the sentence.

“Hmph. Fine! Speak, old man!”

“Thank-you, my lady. As I was trying to say earlier, we are facing an unprecedented disaster! Yesterday, we received one of the Imperial Knights from Rivellion into our care in critical condition and plagued by an unknown ailment.” Jarl Astrid notably scoffed and muttered “Another waste of time” audibly enough for Kobari to hear it, however the old priest continued undaunted. “Upon examination, we discovered it was far worse than any ailment known to us. It’s an infection that is impervious to curative magic and all ordinary potions and elixirs! Its growth is rapid, beyond anything I have ever seen before. I fear… we may be witnessing the spread of a magical malady!”

Even with the old priest’s shaky voice, he poured all the conviction he could in to it. All side conversations immediately hushed and total silence fell upon the hall.

Baal, meanwhile, perked up completely from his seat. His eyes focused with extreme intensity upon the old man, carefully examining every movement and expression to the smallest detail.

This priest… he is definitely telling the truth! How?! How could he have found this out before I could? I have eyes and ears throughout the entire city, better than any that the council has by leagues! And that there are Imperial Knights here? How recently did they get here, that I wouldn’t have heard of it yet?! And why are they here?!

Baal stopped tapping on the desk, his hand tightening up momentarily, before he noticed Ivar observing his reactions. He took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the chaos about to break out across the chambers.

A magical malady… according to Kalbasas’ journal, one of the only good historical sources from that time period and dating back long before the Kingdom of Luthas, the last time one spread it brought the greatest cities across the continent to ruin and set back progress by an unfathomable amount. Society is only just recovering from where it used to stand.

Baal’s ruminations were very unexpectedly interrupted, as the old priest turned and pointed a gnarled old finger his way.

“However, there is still some hope! There is but one potion that can slow the growth of this malady and buy us time, and it was sold by the Adventurers guild!”

Baal blinked, his mouth hanging open in utter surprise.

“I’m sorry, we sold WHAT now?!?” Nothing short of absolute shock emanated from Baal’s lips as, in front of the entire chamber and for the first time in his 15 years in the city, Baal’s composure finally broke.