Sitting back at the table, I felt every eye in the room fixed on me. Lilith, who had just been on all fours, now sat in her seat, her eyes burning with an unimaginable fury. Her blood-hued eyes pierced through me, filled with a desire for revenge.

“Before we start, I wish Silas to join us,” I declared.

“You have a lot of demands for someone who would be imprisoned in Heaven’s Hold if not for the Fatebound Vow. Why should we invite someone who won’t bring anything to the table?” Blythe, the lightning mage, challenged.

“Oh, I beg to differ! Silas has a way with words unlike any I have seen. In these ‘diplomatic’ discussions, his input could be extremely valuable,” I rambled, mashing words together to sound smarter, aiming to strike a nerve. Besides, I wanted Silas by my side, now and always.

“Very well, join us, Silas the Bard,” said Theros, to which Silas happily responded.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked! I had many ideas and themes I wanted to discuss, but this little rascal told me if I spoke, she would cut out my tongue and throw it to pigs to devour!” Silas pointed to Forleen, who lowered her head in embarrassment. “First things first! I want to apologize if anyone took offense to things my friend here has done in the past few minutes.”

“He assaulted one of our mages and publicly humiliated the daughter of one of the most influential families in the entire realm. Who wouldn’t take offense?” Blythe retorted.

“I see your point there, my lady. He may be a bit maniacal sometimes, but he means well! At least I think so; I met him a little more than a day ago...” Silas mused before continuing. “But his actions weren’t completely uncalled for! That slimy-haired fiend insulted us with his words, and that god-awful hairstyle insulted barbers all over the continent! Not to mention how he treats slaves! Oh, and Lilith; where do I start with her? She wanted to burn my tongue, my tongue! Do you know what a tongue means to a bard?”

“Alright, alright; I see your point. Fabian has a bad hairstyle, and Lilith is a bitch. Can we start the meeting now?” Blythe sighed, clearly irritated by the bard’s ramblings.

Just like that, the tension I had created evaporated with a few words from Silas, allowing us to begin the negotiations.

“The Fatebound Vow hasn’t been invoked in a very long time. Tell me, Orion the White, how do you know about such an ancient rule?” Theros inquired.

“I know many things and yet very little. I am not the smartest among us, but I am certainly not the dumbest,” Orion replied, evading the question.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“And your point?” Theros pressed for clarification.

“An uneducated brat from the streets might know things you don’t, just as you know things he won’t. The moral of the story is; people know things, Archmage Theros.”

“Very well spoken, Orion the White,” Theros said, impressed by Orion’s evasion. “But since you know so much, you also know that one can deny a Fatebound Vow. Why should yours be approved?”

“And since you know so much, you are aware of our recent clash with the Talons. You want us as allies, not enemies,” Orion countered.

“I’ve heard of it. I’ve also heard your friend Kaela nearly died in that battle. You were careless, and because of that, you rushed here and now must pay the price. Why would I ever need help from such a careless person?” Theros retorted, leaving Orion momentarily speechless.

“Careless or not, you need us. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting,” I interjected.

“Men are curious creatures,” Theros mused.

“And that curiosity led you to meet an avian—a historical discovery!” I pressed.

“Indeed,” Theros admitted before addressing the rest of the table. “Questions for our guests?”

“I have one,” spoke a voice we hadn’t heard before—Luna Seamist, the water mage.

“The table is all yours,” Theros gestured.

“Thank you, Archmage Theros,” Luna spoke gracefully. “I know a bit about avians from books and people who claimed they met them or were them once upon a time. Their stories made sense on many levels; they lived far longer than any other humans. A few months ago, a woman died who claimed she lived for over 800 years, and her story held true. Many said they knew her since they were born and that she hadn’t aged a day. She also claimed she was an avian, but none believed her; they said it was just the ramblings of an old hag. She spoke of a world called Elyria, where avians live eternally, and those who break the rules are banished to our world to live as mortals. Was she telling the truth?”

“She was,” I confirmed.

“So, you broke the rules?” Luna asked.

“I did.”

“Why do you still have your wings?” she continued.

“I’m special.”

“Are you now?” she chuckled. “And won’t our collaboration with you anger those who banished you? What if they seek revenge?”

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

“No further questions,” Luna said, satisfied with the little she had learned.

The rest of the table fell silent, leaving only Silas to hum thoughtfully before he finally spoke up.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but where are all the food and drinks? I mean, you haven’t even offered tea and biscuits—the bare basics of hospitality!” he exclaimed. Orion nodded in agreement. “Even the breakfast you gave us was rather meager.”

“We apologize, but you must understand one thing: those with empty stomachs are more likely to make mistakes, and in negotiations, that can be invaluable,” Theros explained.

“You mention negotiations, but we haven’t discussed a single thing since we got here! Why are we even here?” Silas questioned, his expression puzzled.

“We have talked a lot without saying much, haven’t we?” Theros laughed. “It’s the nature of these events—to talk a lot and say nothing, only for a fight to ensue later on. I assure you, today’s conflict was minor compared to others. Ah, I’m doing it again! I apologize.” The old man merrily exclaimed before his tone turned serious, leaving everyone speechless with his next words. “What do you say to slaying a dragon?”