Duke Redmond sat down at the head of the table, quieting the room. The council had begun. Around the large table, sat three dozen of the most influential of Lissura. Those in this room were the ones who led the course of the Kingdom. These three-dozen people, with a few trusted aids and servants.
Much to Daniel’s annoyance, the Saint was also in the room, though he stood off to the side. A calm confident smile on his face as he leaned against the marble wall of the conference room. Content to simple watch.
It was that contentment that irritated Daniel so much. Everyone of influence wished to be in this room. This room where the direction of the country was decided. Everyone would sacrifice so much to be privy to what was said here. Yet there he stood, uncaring what was decided. As if nothing they did would, or could, change his plans.
Even without proof, Daniel was certain that the Saint was responsible for the rising prejudice against the ‘Dark Magics’. A prejudice that had infected even the upper echelon. Even now, Duke Redmond noticed how the once unified individuals now glared hatefully at each other, for no other reason than the Magic the System had granted them.
When the distant bell tower struck midday, the Duke stood up, silencing the conversations as everyone took their seat.
“Thank you all for coming. We have a lot to discuss today, so let’s get started.”
It was same thing he had said the time before, and the time before that. But each time he said it; it was even more true. There never seemed to be a lull in their duties. The Duke sat down, turning to take the first of many scrolls from his assistant.
But before he grabbed it, someone stood up, the scrapping of their chair ringing in the silent room.
“Pardon me, your grace, but you seem to have forgotten to welcome a distinguished guest.”
Daniel looked over, struggling to disguise his irritation despite his years of training and experience. The speaker was Count Oakvain, a proud man of strong principles. His was a family deeply engrained in the military. Each child was expected to join a branch of the military when they turned sixteen and serve at least four years.
The current head of the family had personally served nearly seventy years, yet as an Expert, he still only appeared to be in his early fifties. He was a stalwart man. A stubborn man.
Just last year, had the Duke ordered him to defend a location, even against truly impossible odds, he would have trusted the man to defend it longer than any other.
But that was last year, and much had changed. Now, the Count was a stout supporter of the Saint. It would not have been too much to say he was a follower of the man.
“The Saint is here as a viewer. He is not here in any official capacity and has no voice here.”
Count Oakvain seemed to bristle, “Sir Castiel is a messenger of the Gods!”
Duke Daniel Redmond’s stare turned hard and cold, “The Gods do not govern this Kingdom. The Gods have no authority over this Kingdom. The Gods have not spoken to anyone in this world for the last seven centuries. I don’t care if he is one of the Gods themselves. He holds no authority here and is only allowed to be in this meeting as a courtesy.
Now sit down Count, or you will be removed.”
Daniel was a religious man himself. A follower of Anera, Goddess of Life and Order, just as the rest of his and his cousin’s family. But he refused to bow to the make-believe messenger of Gods that have all but forsaken this world. Especially not when the lives of every person in Lissura relied on him.
The Count seemed to choke, his face red from pride, but his oath to the Kingdom forced him to obey. Sat down heavily, sneaking a glance at the Saint, who seemed not to notice.
Staring at the Count for another moment, the Duke reached for the scroll, which the young man put in his open palm.
Duke Redmond broke the purple wax seal and opened the scroll.
“Our first item of the day is the issue of the Atherian scouts spotted at the border.”
Count Lexar raised his hand, already speaking, “Did they cross the border?”
“Not according to the reports, they stayed in their forests.” General Malifax said sternly, one of the three Generals in the room.
“The very fact that they were there is something to be wary of. They prefer to remain isolated. If they are looking at us, then they are likely planning something.”
“But what? They might be looking out their borders to see if its worth opening them.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“If they wanted that, they could have easily sent over some diplomats.”
Back and forth the Nobles went, each with an argument and with a counterargument. After roughly thirty minutes of discussion, it was decided that they would send the 2nd Legion to the Atherian Border for ‘Training Purposes’.
The next scroll detailed a blight that had devastated a small village’s crops. That was not something worthy of this council. What made it so, was the suspicion that it was not a natural blight. This matter was quickly resolved when a Viscount whose City was near to the village volunteered his personal Knights to investigate.
On and on the council moved from scroll to scroll. They did so efficiently as they had years of practice. Even the newest member of the council had nearly a decade of experience, and that was while disregarding the practice he had dealing with his own fief.
Yet despite the smooth, but lengthy, progress they were making, the atmosphere seemed heavy. It was faint, so faint that most did not notice it, even if it was affecting them. Daniel immediately isolated the source and though he did not look, he paid close attention to the Saint.
Hours passed without any movement. The Saint simply stood there, leaning against the wall, as he listened. Finally, as the final issue was resolved, at least for this session, Count Oakvain subtly glanced over at the Saint, who nodded with the slightest of movement.
Internally sighing to himself, the Duke waited to call the meeting to an end, knowing that the Count was about to speak.
‘Sometimes I really wish I was wrong more often.’
As the rest of the council was packing away their notes, either putting them in their Rings of Holding, handing them to their assistants, or even stuffing them into a satchel for one older member, Count Oakvain stood up with grand movements.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” There was only a single lady, “I fear we have neglected to address one issue. An issue that has plagued our very own Capital for several months now.” He dramatically paused, “The growing tensions between the Magics.”
The Duke stood up, interrupting the Count before he could start another sentence, “My apologizes Count. I had meant to discuss this matter. I simply thought it would have been better to speak of it on an individual basis. However, since you have brought it up, it is only right that we discuss it now.
It is, after all, a serious matter.
This growing hate of the Mages that make use of Magic that could be seen as evil. A sentiment that is ancient. If memory serves me correctly, our great Kingdom of Lissura did not even exist during the time of this hate.
I was quite glad that we as a race have moved past this foolish sentiment, and it saddens me greatly to see us fall back.
I admit, that these so called, ‘Dark Magics’ can sometimes be quite ugly or uncomfortable to interact with, but that does not speak for the people that use them. Many of my friends use these ‘Dark Magics’ and many of our country’s enemies use ‘Light Magic’.”
The Duke was glad to see many of those in the room seem to be acceptive of his words. A few were even sheepish at their actions just before the meeting.
“But perhaps that is the issue.” The Saint spoke, pushing off the wall and standing straight, walking closer to the table in the middle of the room.
“Sir Castiel, may I remind you that you are here only as a courtesy, you have no right to speak.”
The Saint raised a hand to his chest, mocking injury, “Do I not? Do I not have the right to speak out when I see injustice?”
With a slight smirk, the Duke jumped on the chance, “So you agree that this conflict between the Magic Users is foolish and wrong?”
With that same confident smirk, the Saint responded, “Of course!” That was not the answer Daniel had been expecting, “It never should have been allowed to become so bad.”
The Saint began slowly walking towards the Duke, “When the Gods last graced us with their voices, the world was perfect! Monsters were fleeing, Cities flourishing, and people could walk the streets at night in safety. Yet when they no longer kept a close eye on their beloved servants, you welcomed in the Evil Magics with glee. Magics that the Gods had spent centuries chasing away and eradicating.
It was clean, and it was pure.” The Saint looked up, reminiscing, “Now, all I see is filth and decay.”
“Then maybe you should close your mouth once in a while. The stench of shit can be quite overwhelming.” The Duke glared, leaving many of those present in shock.
“We were doing just fine without you here. Since you arrived, mysterious murders have been taking place. Innocent people have been killed simply for the Magic they use.”
Despite the insult, the Saint laughed, “If they used Dark Magic, then they are not innocent.”
“Why? Because you don’t like it? Did you know that one of the first victims of your little crusade, was a Doctor? A young woman, who used Blood Magic to cleanse her patients’’ blood of infection. A woman who, despite living in the worst parts of the city, devoted herself to healing and fixing what she could. A woman who chose to see the best of people and tried her best to show it to themselves.
Despite that, your followers stalked her on her way home one night. They dragged her to an alley and abused her in every way before finally killing her. You say that the Gods would want that? That they would reward that? That they would enjoy it?” Daniel was yelling at the end.
Unfazed and unchanged, the Saint stepped close to the Duke, “If she used Dark Magic, then yes. She deserved it.”
Silence descended on the room. None dared to make a sound, let alone move.
When the Duke spoke, it was quiet, “Get out. You are hereby banished from the Castle. If these attacks continue, then you will be arrested for treason.”
The Saint smirked, “You wish to banish the Gods’ Messenger from the Royal Castle? Very well then. But you see, I have no control over those that listen to my words. I have not commanded any.”
Without another word, the Saint turned around and left the room. Count Oakvain stood from his seat, glaring at Daniel, before following.
The guards closed the doors behind them, leaving the stunned council behind.
Count Lexar turned to his old friend, “This is not going to go well.”
Daniel sat down with a heavy sigh, “No, its not. Alert the Guardsmen across the entire city. I want to squash these attacks. Generals, can I rely on your Soldiers if needed.”
General Malifax stood and saluted, “You needn’t ask your grace. However, I fear that sending in the Military must remain a last resort. It is liable to make things worse.”
Daniel silently nodded, already knowing this.
No matter what he did, the Saint simply held too much influence. It would be a dirty and lengthy war between them. A war that would not be fought far away, but one fought on the streets themselves.
A bloody future waited.