"We have arrived, my lordling," Eskir announced through the screen of the carriage.

Janir did not respond and waited for one of the coachmen to open the door.

His fingers tapped away at his side. A nervous tic of his, he had only entered the Tower of Magis once before, and that was during his fourteenth name day to inaugurate him as the heir of House Telram. But he never imagined being invited again, let alone to a meeting; he had thought he would have to wait until his sixteenth name day. Yet another year away. He suspects that those rumours might be at play. His curiosity was filled to the brim. He could hardly keep himself still.

It took less than a minute before doors were opened, and Janir could step out. As he did, Eskir was in front of the Tower's guardsmen to announce him.

"Janir Frahel, Firstborn and Heir of House Telram of the Twelve," Eskir announced simply, and from his side, he could see that Janir's mouth had set in a thin line.

Eskir did not need to ask why, for he knew that this had been caused by Janir's titles or, rather, a lack of title.

But titles aren't just given freely in Ardovi or Elthralme, for that matter. One must gain them through trials and tribulations; even then, this is not guaranteed.

The guards opened the gates, and marbled double doors, latches, and chains started to unwind, undone in unison by the magic of the guards.

The Tower's entrance was vast and grand, with hallways leading to many doors and paths unknown to most men. Janir was about to step forward towards the giant doors of the Tower when thundering gallops came closer, the sound mighty and loud.

Another trumpet was sounded. It could only mean one thing, another arrival of a member of the Twelve.

Janir halted at the mouth of the entrance, turning his heel to face the road. There weren't many opportunities where the twelve Houses met outside of official meetings. Janir was curious enough to see who would arrive this close to the time of the meeting. He came this late only because he had waited for his father at their estate. He had his guesses but wanted to confirm it.

The carriage, which was a few miles away, was black accented by what looked like bronze claddings, and all the horses strapped to giant contraptions were immense in size and just as dark as the shade of the carriage.

His arms crossed in front of his chest, his brows furrowing as he waited to catch a closer glimpse. Janir could see from his peripheral vision that Eskir, who stood to his left, was eyeing him curiously. He gave the man a dismissive wave to indicate that he wanted him to go forward.

Eskir hesitated; he opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by Janir. "My lord, it is best to"

"Go on, let uncle know of my arrival," Janir commanded arrogantly, an unnecessary task as they both knew that the announcement of his arrival had already been broadcasted through the meeting hall with sound signals by the guards.

The lines on Eskir's forehead deepened, but he nodded nonetheless and walked towards the middle hallway leading to the hall where the meetings commenced.

The carriage came closer, and from that, Janir could see more clearly that it was, in fact, not black but rather the deepest shades of navy, the same shadow as the depths of the ocean, and on the front was a Sigil of a Kraken with a Triton piercing its centre. This was House Velantis, Rulers of Seas.

Janir's mouth formed a slight o. This was one of the houses he knew very little about. A house he would like to learn more about.

The Velantis, although part of the twelve, did not participate in most meetings, often choosing to send a representative of their House instead.

Their lands were farthest out of all the other houses. Of the Twelve, only three Houses lived outside the capital and in their ancestral homes. One of them was the Velantis.

Even though each House had land they governed and represented, many chose to stay close to the capital to keep up to date with the happenings of the court, and it was easier to know the movements of their rivals when one was close to them.

There was a common saying that it's easier to strike when one knows where the enemies lie.

As for the Velantis, they were busy fighting the storms and tides of the sea to quarrel with the other houses, and they stood to gain nothing in the lands. It was said that the Velantis believed every great treasure was hidden and only found in the depths of the sea. But what did Janir know? These were only rumours he had heard.

Although Janir was curious enough about the reclused House, he had no interest in their representatives. So he turned to walk forward as the carriage came to a halt at the gate entrance, which had been left open by the guards waiting for him to enter the Tower.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Farroe Gael Nes, Lord of the Five Seas, Master of the Black Tides, Keeper of the Triton, House Velantis of the Twelve, Kaiser of the Seas. And his firstborn and heir, Kael Nereid, Commander of the Storm," Their arrival was proudly announced.

Janir halted once more, turning his head towards the figure standing by the foot of the gate. They had come in person themselves, and his eyes widened with surprise. Not only at their appearance but by the title of the heir, she had already been given such a title at the tender age of Fifteen. Janir's curiosity grew to newfound heights.

Janir stood there gawking at the new arrivals. They were both wearing their house's colours of the sea's deep hues of blues and the darkest shades of navy.

Farroe was a large man like the rumours and thick as oaks, his full beard braided down, reaching the tops of his chest. It was greying on the edges where the hairs were shorter, but the rest was a flaming auburn like the mane of his crown. Golden streaks with highlights of orange and red, this too was greying in some parts like the sides of his temple.

His skin, which one would assume would be pale for someone with such light features, was the same shade of brown as the worn leather boots the older man wore. In fact, it resembled its textures, too. It was wrinkled and worn like the sun had weathered him often. Farroe's eyes were grey like the storms of winter. They held bitterness and cold resolute. He had an aura like no other. This was a man who was shaped and hardened by the wild tempests he tamed at sea.

Beside him was his daughter Kael, whose features did not resemble her old man. For she had the darkest of hair Janir had seen. It was the colour of the coals of the mines, pitch black.

Would soot cover his hand? Should he run his fingers down their length? He found himself wondering aimlessly, dazzled by her appearance.

Her build was more delicate; she looked lean rather than sturdy like her father. There was a nimbleness in her movements. Her eyes were, he could not see, for she had her face turned opposite him…Were they grey like her fathers, or were they soft and brown like- they were electric blue, and they were frosty daggers glared towards him.

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Interesting, he thought; Kael wasn't delicate like he initially thought. She seemed to have had the same coldness that made her father King of the Seas. A curious thing, he thought.

A voice from one of the corridors spoke, "Nephew, come now," and from a distance, a figure appeared.

His uncle's form started to walk towards him, his long-sleeved silky jacket, knotted intricately in the back with a corded thread, extended well over his knees. His jacket's wide sleeves extended to just below his hands, and the ends of each sleeve are embellished with various red thread linings, the colours of their great House. The jacket features a deep v-neck that partially exposes the traditional shirt worn below it; this was grey instead of black, the usual complimentary colour that embellished their colours of blood red.

His uncle Reimar wore a thick rope belt fastened with complex knots and medallions, noting his high position within the Tower of Magis. He would be described as a magistrate of some sort. Janir knew very little about the Tower and its rankings. Or at least how they worked. Not even with his very own uncle working there.

"Uncle, I presumed you were already seated in the council room," Janir said to the man in a low voice while looking suspiciously around his surroundings.

"No, I was called earlier to", Reimar smiled, stopping himself and shaking his head as if to change his thoughts to something else, "I came to get you. I thought it was more fitting for us to arrive together, seeing as your father is, erm… well away," Reimar said awkwardly, scratching at his temples as he spoke. It was as if he was probing to find words instead of speaking his mind.

Janir studied Reimar, his uncle, who was a good few years younger than his father and only a decade older than himself. He was a man of no eminent qualities that Janir searched for in others. Like many of the other nobles, he, too, was cut from the same cloth. All living the same life, albeit more privileged than most, but still nothing special that one could discern them from the crowd. He grew up with no wanton for leadership nor drive for power; it made sense, though, for he was merely a spare to the heir.

His uncle was so unlike his father. Reimar bored Janir, or rather, he could not admire his uncle as he did his father; his father was, well, his father. A great warrior, leader and mage truly fitting to be called the Sword of Ardrovi and leader of the Twelve.

"Ah yes, a strong united front" Janir couldn't help the sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Try as he might to deny it, and even to himself, he was disappointed that his father was not there instead for his first official meeting with the council member. He will be officially introduced as a junior member, a milestone similar to when he first manifested a sword of fire with his divinity.

In this meeting, he will be recognised as a man rather than Jahas's son and designated heir. And he will finally be welcomed into the great council room, which was an exciting notion.

He took three calming breaths, feeling the energy within him surge to life. His uncle must have felt the shift within him because his forehead had furrowed, and two lines between his usually smooth skin creased in the centre. The expression made him look a tad older than he was, and if he was disturbed by Janir's display of power and lack of awareness of their surrounding, he did not say and simply gestured with a wave of his arm to follow him and turned to start walking into one of the halls.

….

The hallway leading to the meeting room was long. The walls were lined with sconces burning bright with warm flickers of fire; they did not smell of gas or wax. They must be lit using the energy from the atmosphere; how fascinating, Janir thought. This meant that much energy had been exerted to hold such steady light unwavering as they burn through the day and night. With the scientific advancements of recent years of what they called electric power, no energy, that allowed light to manifest through coppers and whatnots, one would think the Tower of Magis would be one of the first to utilise this, but no, their members as exclusive and as restrictive as they were as traditionalists.

They kept their rules and customs for centuries, so it should not surprise anyone that they would be stubborn about how certain things are run.

Janir will install such electrical lights once he gains more power and recognition from the council. It was clear that he thought himself clever and bright with his ideas. Janir prophesied he would be the one to bring about significant changes to this council and, in turn, to this bleak world.

Advancements in inventions and the sciences shouldn't be seen as the adversary but rather in a positive light. Although the Drifters would benefit them, there were far more uses for them for an Arucanian, especially the nobles who governed masses of people.

The council room was not what he expected, although he did not know precisely what he expected. It was a small and plain room lit only by the flickering fire by the walls and three great candles hanging above. The only thing worth mentioning was each House's sigils carved intricately into each curve, forming the oval room. Only one end was left bare at the opposite end of the entrance where the head of the table would be. Where his father should have sat had he been there.

Each symbol was painted in their respective colours. They were vibrant and perfectly resembled each house's pride and powers for House Telram, a long sword of black steel engulfed in glaring red flames. For Velantis, the sea lords and ladies, it was a Kraken, a terrifying-looking octopus beast with sixteen clawed tentacles, their sworn enemy, a monster they help guard the rest of the realm against. The Kraken in their sigil held the Triton in between its tentacles, seeming to absorb the Amulet into itself. The waves encircling the two were painted in a stormy grey and dark blues. The other sigils were just as fascinating. House Elies, for instance-

"Everyone, please find your seats." Janir was disrupted by his uncle's voice. He looked to his left and found that his uncle was already sitting by their designated seats, two seats for each House but plenty of space for one or two more.

It was about to begin, and it was his first meeting, so it was hard not to bounce with excitement at each step. This was the place where many great decisions were made. Janir was honoured to be part of it now.