3. The Kingship Meeting
Vast, intertwining beams of sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows. A kaleidoscope of colors displayed upon the restless crowd at the Thromby Kingship Hall. Men and women of all races fanned themselves while engaging in deep conversations. Plumes of hazy, acrid smoke from cigars and pipes swirled to the soaring ceilings that were adorned with delicate elven chandeliers.
The atmosphere was alive with excitement and anticipation. Elves, dwarves, even orcs, shared hearty laughs or whispered secrets among each other in the hallowed halls. The building was deep in Marchenne’s government district and one of the oldest buildings in the city. It has served its purpose as a place where all kingdoms could meet and represent their people under one roof.
Built long ago, when the city was the seat of power for the silver-elves, it has maintained its grandeur. Even surviving the Artimis plague that cursed the seat and drove the Sills a thousand years ago. The capital city fell into ruins for seventy years until the humans brokered a deal to buy the city for a stunning amount of gold. Many Sills became wealthy from the sale and settled in the north, but to this day, many remained hesitant to visit Marchenne. The fear of the dormant plague coming back was enough to frighten every Sill that visited.
Humans took this capital, like they have been taking land from the elves for centuries.
Patiently, Governor Belarian Cross sat with her small group of Sill diplomats, as was common during these assemblies. Representatives from every country, monarchy, and region were present. However, as most of the meetings went, humans discussed human problems. Seldom were the difficulties of dwarves, elves, or orcs ever mentioned. If they were, Chief Speaker Jacob Gantry would quickly shut it down. The Kingship sessions began after the Tinkers Uprising to bring to light any issues that communication, problem-solving, and co-operation would resolve. They used to work when everyone worked together. In the previous ten years since the insurrection ended, she noticed that the humans attendance had grown where the other races had shrunk.
Unacceptable. Belarian kept attending these meetings, but only because it was required for her to keep her appointment as Governor to the Deepwater Elven Territory. She glanced around the spacious, smoky hall at the bloated, self-absorbed faces of oligarchs. Most of them built their power and wealth on the backs of those they considered less-than. Her head raised towards the lofty domed ceiling and through the gray haze, she smiled when she found what she looked for.
High up, hidden in a dusty shadow, she could make out the faded and peeling frescoes her people painted long ago. The Sills built this hall, back when this was the center of the elven realm. Her eyes traced the illustrated scenes of epic elven battles with villainous sorcerers clad in ebon robes slinging thick ropes of flaming magic. Another was Shaysha Ti’nor[YK2] , the elven goddess of All standing tall on a gray stone speaking of greatness to her silver elven people. Promising that their command over the world of Sialdrad would be theirs for a million years. The glory of the elven nation would be theirs by birthright and none could take it away. It was obvious she didn’t know the negative and self destructive evil potential of human beings. Cross scoffed at the naivety of the All Mother’s hubris which brought her personal guard, Myrick’s attention.
“Everything alright, ma’am?” He leaned in close to her, his shoulder touching hers. He had been with her for years, and sometimes his responsibilities were more delicate than simply protecting her. She trusted him and had become so fond of him that his touch didn’t offend her.
Belarian nodded, looking at his strong features and pale blue stare. “Yeah, swell.” Her attention moved back to a fresh, stinking cloud of pollution obscured again by the paintings in the shadows. Disappeared. Just like our heritage. “I want to get this over with and leave this awful place.”
Speaker Gantry’s deep, monotonous words oozed out, filling the grand hall with stale air. After an hour of droning on and on about industrial taxes, medical needs of outlying towns deep in the frontier, and problems with local politics, Speaker Gantry banged his gavel on the cherry wood desk. “If there is nothing else to discuss, I call for this 18th session of Kingship Meetings to come to a close.” His portly frame slinked back into his chair, a living embodiment of the bureaucratic excess and stagnation he so vehemently decried.
Belarian took a deep breath and looked at Myrick. His jaw clenched and with a smile, he nodded. Standing, she brushed her hands over the powdered blue elfweave suit she wore to every one of these assemblies. “Speaker Gantry? May I address the panel?” It made her cringe to show even this low example of subservience to the man.
Speaker Gantry rolled his bloodshot eyes behind the ivory and gold spectacles. She knew him when he was a simple alderman who shot to power before the Tinkers Uprising had ended. If you hear him tell the story, a powerful attack by gnome insurgents had destroyed a council meeting he had been attending, killing everyone in the room except for him. He rose from the rubble and fought off five armed gnomes with a platinum letter opener.
That was his version.
The more popular version is that after the battle, he killed his injured colleagues with the same knife to show himself as the hero and sole survivor. She believed that scenario more than his tale. “Belarian, if this is about securing more territory for the silver elves, we addressed that at the last session.”
Her crystal-eyes narrowed as they focused into a steely glint. “I remember, Jacob.” She called him by his first name on purpose. It was her way of delivering a finite display of disrespect. “It isn’t about the land. May I approach?”
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The man delivered a heavy sigh. “Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, which groaned in protest of his hefty frame. “The Kingship recognizes Belarian Cross, Governor of the Deepwater Elven Territory.”
She glided down the worn wooden steps. The same stairs that her ancestors had labored over centuries before, carving leaves and vines into each plank of oak. Today, the carvings were barely recognizable after generations of humans forgetting the craftsmanship of her people. From the landing, she approached the counselor’s podium and stared at each of the members. All of them are weary, fat, tired, and lazy. Belarian hated them with every fiber of her being. But right now, she needed to apply the diplomacy necessary to achieve her goal.
“Members of the council, thank you. Ten years ago, magic was free for those who could learn. Whether you were a mage of nobility or a stable boy reaching into the riverium, it was available. Sills used to be the masters of wizardry and not once in our history have we ever employed it against the rule of the Five Kingdoms. Even when humans built their cities and pushed our citizens from their homes, we never turned against your kind.” Risky, sure. Belarian wouldn’t back down, however.
“Governor Cross, please. If you are going to grandstand, this isn’t the proper forum for it.” Gantry removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.
“I’m not grandstanding, Speaker, only pointing out facts.” Belarian remained calm despite the overwhelming urge to command Myrick to pound his fat, paunchy face.
“Then please, get to the point.”
“Of course. The Cabinet of Magicks at Aire Nexbridge has been monopolizing the use of magic through policies and edicts. These keep free thinkers from being able to express themselves through spells. I would like to say there isn’t a single Sill on the Cabinet. Why is that?”
“Ahem, Speaker, If I may?” Another human, a thin man dressed in fine purple robes, pointed towards Governor Cross. “May I address that, please?”
Gantry waved his hand in a lazy motion. “Of course. The Kingship recognizes Cabinet Chairperson Albrecht Harcourt of Aire Nexbridge. You have the floor, sir.”
Albrecht leaned forward in his chair. “The reason, Governor, that there aren’t any silver elves on the Cabinet is because of the very reason you are speaking to us today. They have shown no interest in having representation because of their disdain for the way our Cabinet operates.”
“Can you blame them? Every year, your people swindle Sills from their land and push them into territories under the watchful eye of whatever human King sits on his gilded throne.”
“So, are you suggesting that we just allow all magic to go unchecked? There has to be accountability and record. That is the reason the Cabinet exists, to ensure that all wizardry is certified and approved for use. We only seek spells that are beneficial for all races and pursue to advance our society. Gone are the days of firestreams, lightning, and acidspray.”
“Those are all spells that my people only practiced out of necessity and when war called for it. Your wars! Of course, I don’t want to see dangerous magicks unleashed on the world, but as you already know, Sills operate with defensive magic. As I stated before, no elf has ever turned their power towards harming humans, except for combat, and even then, we regretted it. We believe all creatures share Sialdrad, but my perception is your kind doesn’t feel the same way.”
The man continued. “What about drow, or do you consider them a part of Sialdrad?”
She swallowed the visible knot in her throat at the very mention of… them. “As of late, they are, I suppose.”
“Are you a mage, Governor?” He added.
She shook her head while staring at him. “I am not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t respect my people’s legacies and strive for better.”
“Ah, I’m glad you brought up legacies. Let’s talk about your people’s legacy, the curse that killed thousands a millennium ago?”
The Governor threw her finger up at the man, but Gantry, tired of this conversation, slammed his gavel down with three swift and explosive strikes. “Enough! I will not tolerate separation in this meeting!” Albrecht waved his hands and went silent. The Chief Speaker calmed himself and glanced at Belarian, whose piercing gaze had the aim of an assassin’s arrow. “What is it you propose, Governor?”
She gathered her thoughts after the heated exchange. “I would like the King’s permission to build a school of magic for my people to work as a partnership with Aire Nexbridge.”
Unhappy rumblings from the crowd drew her attention, and she turned her head. She raised her hand and spoke over the raucous noise. “I’m saying that the school would use approved magicks from the catalog and be in the elven city of Vilsomme.” Here is where her diplomacy failed and emotion delivered for her. “Need I remind you that if it weren’t for the magical prowess of Sills, your kind would still be digging in the mud and eating corn from the dung of animals!”
This infuriated Speaker Gantry, who pounded his fist on the table in front of him. “Are you saying that we humans owe everything to the generosity of silver elves?” He took a deep breath. “Without getting into the extensive history of the races of this planet, I will admit that your people gave mine a lot. Regardless, we have achieved much in the two thousand years since we ‘crawled out of the mud’. It was human wizards who discovered riverium fluotha’s existence and mapped the magical lines that stretch the world.”
She nodded. “True, but if I remember my history well, you did that with the use of gnome technology, correct? The same gnomes that almost destroyed every city on the map?”
Speaker Gantry’s face reddened, and a thick purple vein popped out on his forehead. “That is quite enough, Governor Cross! As I stated before, we aren’t here to bring separation to these meetings! No, the Kingship will not recognize a new school of magic!” He banged his gavel with sufficient force that the head separated from the handle and clattered to the gray tile floor. “I adjourn this meeting!” He rose and rushed from the bench to his chambers.
Belarian, furious also, returned to her trusted man, who clutched her coat as she shoved her arms through the sleeves. “That didn’t go very well.” He said.
She grinned. “Actually, Myrick. It led exactly as I expected it to. The humans, in their natural hubris, have displayed that they no longer need the magical awareness of our people. Magic is our currency. Our race appreciates the volatility and fickleness of riverium. Humans usually assume that they have a complete understanding, but in reality, they know very little.” She bent to pick her bag up and located the exit, which was already clogged with a crowd.
“Ma’am, why do you suppose they are unwilling to give us the school?”
“Because we don’t look or think like them. Is that simple enough? It’s alright though, I’ve got something else in mind that will help them change their minds. I thought it would be best to allow them a chance at doing the right thing.”
“So, what are you going to do?” They moved through the thick crowd of murmuring attendees towards the atrium.
“I’m going to make it to where they are begging us for aid.”