Chapter 84
The Heraldic Council Chamber reflected what The Council itself had become. Once a thriving, bright, ornate room of ceremony and debate, it now sat dark and dusty, rarely used. Today, though, The Show, The Justice, The Innovator, The Tycoon, and The War sat around the 12-seated, star-shaped, grand conference table in various poses of boardroom boredom. The War, missing his daily cat nap, leaned back in his seat, passed out and snoring. Solomon stood authoritatively behind his chair, both hands gripping its back, and assessed the eclectic cast of characters around him. Dorian Dusk, The Innovator and founder of the largest technology company on the planet, sat cross-legged in his spot, tapping on his Onyx Phone, wearing designer jeans and a million-dollar hoodie. His distracted, nerdy façade masked a handsome, modelesque face and physique. Ricky Diamond made his way in from the hall, popped open a Diet Coke, and sauntered over to his seat at the table in the center of the great room.
It was the room’s final occupant, Flint Reckoner, who, standing nonchalantly against one of the chamber’s pillars, decided to open this meeting of The Council of Heralds, by asking a question of the councilman who had initiated it in the first place. He faced the large, ebony, well-dressed, statue of a man who stood across the room from him, “So, Grand Justice, I believe that everyone who intends to show up today is already here.” As always, in this room during an official conclave, he used Solomon’s official title. “The Grand Warrior over there is already asleep, so I suppose we are ready to begin?”
“Thank you, Grand Show, for opening the proceedings,” The Justice spoke as authoritatively as he stood. He had indeed called this meeting, so it was his to control. And, Solomon Bradley wasn’t someone who would let anyone dominate him—especially a brown-nosing haircut like Flint. “Before we get started, I just want to state that I made it clear to all members of The Council that I was calling The Council to order, and everyone except you all declined to take part, including our Sentry. Even though we have no official quorum, and our oversight was unavailable, this still counts as an official Council Conclave, and will be conducted as such, with all of the traditions and norms that that entails. Are we clear and in agreement?”
Dorian and Ricky nodded, but Flint just laughed. “Fine, fine. But cut the crap; unlike in my number one hit show, there are no cameras here. You don’t need to perform for us, Grand Justice. So, get on with it. Why are we taking this time out of our very important and very busy lives to sit around this dusty-ass table and talk about who the fuck knows what?”
“Well, Grand Show, I’ve frankly lost faith in your little ‘plan’ to fill Eclipse’s seat. Honestly, I don’t understand why we are going through all of the trouble right now. For the past decade, we have been operating at barely half power. And, it’s not like people have been clamoring for The Council to be fully operational. When you sold us on this public display, you promised that it would help to quell the public backlash against The Council itself and result in installing someone loyal to us in The Seed’s seat. Instead, we find out that a complete unknown and unvetted has made his way into the competition, and is, if not excelling, at least getting by. And then, on day one, someone who was supposedly swayable, literally protests The Council and its transparency policies. So, now we have a bunch of journalists and policymakers digging deeper into our goings-on, at least two competitors whom we can’t trust to hold Eclipse's vacant seat still in your little Top Seed show. And you seem to be more interested in planning the next challenge than making sure we don’t get completely hijacked in some hostile takeover.” Solomon looked around the room to see if his words had penetrated any of his peers’ bubbles. Unfortunately, they hadn’t. Dorian was more interested in his device, The War remained asleep, and Ricky Diamond just stared at Solomon, paralyzed by fear and confusion at which powerful Herald to back.
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Flint just smiled. “I didn’t realize your faith in me had dwindled and diminished so thoroughly, Grand Justice. I assure you, however, that everything is under control. With the help of Dorian’s automated background algorithm, my assistant vetted all of the newcomers during the course of The Culling. Noone was given enough points to advance that wasn’t, at minimum, swayable to our side. If The Grand Innovator’s automated system allowed them enough points to make it through, they shouldn’t be an issue if they won the seat. However, we do have our favorites.”
“Yes,” Solomon interrupted. “And where do my grandkids factor into ‘our favorites’? Top 10? Top 5?”
“Well, Grand Justice, as I’m sure you are aware, your grandson already has one golden idol. Which means he has already qualified to make it into the final trial. As long as it doesn’t get taken from him before then, that is.”
“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. Got it?” The Justice wanted to make it clear where he stood with this whole Top Seed bull. If The Show’s shenanigans put Solomon’s interests, or family, at risk, there would be hell to pay. So he added, “In fact, maybe we should reach out to more of The Challengers to see where they actually fall, to determine their loyalty to The Council’s traditions... I was already planning to have a little meeting with Borealis and Skyrocket. Who else do we need to vet further?”
The Show pulled out a thumb drive and loaded it into a console tucked under his golden nameplate that was carved into the gigantic star-shaped council table. After tapping a small screen that popped out, the leaderboard loaded onto a large screen on one of the room’s walls. “Well, let's see,” Flint thought out loud. “On The Challengers side of things, we know that, if they somehow won… that Bailey Baker, Jax and June Bradley, Spencer Hall, Ken Kamei, Robert Keithson, Ashley Mills, Connor Pike, are all genetically related to someone who either is one of us or someone in our inner circles. We have blackmail on Cecilia Birch, Ralph Buckley, Megan Mills, and their families. And then there is the Joel Allen kid.”
“Yes, Grand Show. We have the Joel Allen kid. What is your grand plan for making sure that he doesn’t compromise this whole damn thing!” Solomon was starting to let anger creep into his words.
“Settle down Solomo– Grand Justice.” Flint almost slipped up but gathered himself. This line of questioning was becoming insulting. “I’m not sure if your insulting insinuations are on purpose, but the better question is, who the hell cares? Does anyone really think some unknown kid, who showed up out of nowhere, is going to be able to beat Horizon? Or Olympian? Or your grandson and daughter? The kid doesn’t stand a chance! And, if it started to look like he might have a chance, we would rig it! Joel Allen is not going to be the next seed. I promise you.”
The Show’s passionate response actually eased Solomon’s tension. It seemed The Show had his thumb less on the scales than he had thought. Which was good. If anyone was going to put a thumb on the scales in this competition, or anywhere, it would be The Justice.
“So, not that I don’t implicitly trust you, Grand Show, but I’d like us all to check in on our interests where The Challengers are concerned. While you do some diligence on that young (sleep) man, I will touch base with my grandkids. Maybe someone can reach out to the blond protestor?” Solomon spoke that last request into the ether but accepted that its recipient had heard it loud and clear. “I’ll reach out to Grand Coin and make sure that her daughter and nephew are aligned with our thinking on the important issues.” While he was talking, Solomon walked over behind Dorian Dusk and gripped his shoulder. “Please check in with the twins. We must make sure all of our ducks are in a row, and you have never been good at keeping track of ducklings– especially the ugly ones.”
“Who are you calling ugly?” Flint feigned shock and hurt. “I assure you, all of our eligible ducklings are quite attractive, in their own ways. You cad!”
“I meant metaphorically, you moron.” Solomon scoffed. “Look, I just wanted to make sure we are all still on the same page. Let’s reach out to some of our bigger question marks and just make sure everything is still on track. We good?”
The question echoed through the room and heads began to nod one by one. Finally, when no one else had anything more to say, the meeting of The Council of Heralds came to an end; but not before setting in motion a chain of events that would, before the week was over, dramatically change the course of more than one Challengers’ lives.