Book 2: Chapter 35: Council

  Rain peppered the domed ceiling of the royal palace like tear drops that no one claimed. Wraiths of curling mist swam between trimmed hedgerows and stone fountains in the gardens, blurring the lines between stone and sky.

  Head were bowed and voice low as the servants moved like ghosts through the halls. Some whispered small prayers as they went about their duty to light the lanterns. And some others whispered rumors, about the vote, the future, about what would happen if the wrong side won, and which side was the wrong one.

  In the east wing, noble scions clustered in tight circles. Their silks gleamed under warded lamplight, but no laughter spilled from them this morning. Their lips and hands did not move, only eyes that flitted constantly toward windows and mirrored walls.

  In the merchant quarter of the palace, contract meetings were being canceled or postponed outright. “Until further notice,” they all said. “Pending today’s result.” Representatives of the guilds kept to private lounges, their enchanted seals gripped tighter than usual, some even trembling in their casings from ambient aether tension.

  Out near the martial grounds, sect initiates drilled harder than ever. Their instructors barked orders with no patience for error. Feet stomped in rhythmic unison on soaked stone. Swords clashed against training poles. The air itself was taut with nervous tension. They trained not just for show today.

  Enchanted parchments drifted down the hallways more heavily than before, dense with secret messages and encoded purpose. They floated behind council members, flickering with unreadable patterns, the aether around them twisted by unseen logic. A few even hovered near the Striders’ suite of the palace, pulsing with a soft internal light, just waiting.

  Above it all, Terraxum’s great banners hung unmoving in the damp morning wind. Showing the many colors of the leading politcal powers of the kingdom’s courts; Crimson. Gold. Ivory. Purple, and more.

  Throughout the entire estate, no horns blew and no announcements were made. The silence didn’t break. But it stretched. It hung over the city like a the executioner’s ax, coming judgment.

  And everyone knew that today, the vote would decide everything.

  The doors to the High Throne Room opened for them with no fanfare.

  Alex walked at the head of the group, flanked by Kate and Eric, the others behind him in silent formation. Palace guards marched beside them. Each wore emerald green armor that gleamed beneath the hall’s golden chandeliers. It was impossible to ignore the sound of their halberds strucking the stone in even, echoing precision as the went.

  Unlike the last time they were in the throne hall, a circular table dominated the center. Around it were twelve seats, each placed within a glowing ring of etched runes. From any point in the hall one could see the enchantments pulsing slowly, like a patient ticking of a great cosmic clock.

  At the center of the table rose a stone dias. Its entire surface covered in delicate glyphwork. Thin, radiant threads of energy floated above it, orbiting in slow loops. This dias was not just ornamentation, but the voting mechanism itself. Each strand of light represented a Councilor's potential vote: red for deny, gold for abstain, green for approve. For now, they were all gray.

  And watching it all…was the King.

  He sat on his high throne at the far end of the hall. His body heavily cloaked in Terraxum green and gold. Aether sigils shimmered across his regalia, the subtle marks of authority that set him a part of ruler of Terraxum.

  The Queen, veiled in gossamer white and green, sat beside him. And to the King’s left was Prince Kailan, at the moment armored but unarmed. Even now as Alex looked upon the man, his expression was neutral. His gaze met Alex’s for the briefest moment, and something unspoken passed between them.

  Around the outer edge of the room stood the great powers of the kingdom. Various noble lords in shimmering velvet and arcane badges of rank. Merchants with rings heavy from contract sigils. Martial Sect masters and fighters in robes lined with quiet power. And the white-cloaked delegates of the Church, their attire glowing with faint divine aether. They stood as one body, silent as statues.

  The Twelve Councilors were already seated, one from each major faction. Each wore distinct robes and symbols, their chairs glowing in soft hues that matched their affiliations. Sapphire for the Martial Sects. Silver for the Merchants. Emerald for the Nobility. Ivory for the Church. Each Councilor’s presence was its own early warning system, heavy, watching, waiting. Only their eyes moved, some curious, some skeptical, a few outright hostile.

  As the Worldstriders entered the room, their footsteps slowed. Kate adjusted the rapier at her hip. Garret muttered a quiet joke, then didn’t finish it. Devon’s eyes locked onto the floating glyph strands, mind already calculating.

  And Alex… Alex just took a slow breath. This was it. The Throne Room, The Circle of Twelve. The vote was about to begin.

  A low chime rang through the throne room, a tone shaped by magic, not metal, and silence followed in its wake. The King rose from his throne. His voice, though calm, carried across the entire chamber without effort. It rang with the unmistakable resonance of an amplified power as if The System itself was listening.

  “Let the words spoken here be bound in judgment. Let the vote be weighed by fate…and sealed in law.”

  Alex saw the floating glyphs above the central dias flared once in response to the King’s words, acknowledging some kind of ritual, or ancient rite. Across the outer chamber, nobles, priests, and merchants lowered their heads in symbolic submission.

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  The King’s gaze turned downward to the council table. “Before this Council casts its votes,” he said, “we allow testimony. Let the accused speak their defense, or offer their plea.”

  One of the councilors around the table shifted slightly. Another narrowed her eyes. The King’s tone cooled, but his eyes glinted. “Which of the twelve will speak?”

  Alex stepped forward. His boots echoed on polished stone as he moved from the side platform to the center of the council ring. The moment he passed through the outer circle of glyphs, a low hum passed through his body, registering his identity perhaps, or simply scanning him. He didn’t know which.

  He looked to each of the twelve Councilors in turn. One by one. He offered no bow or apology. Simple looking them over, all together in one place for the first time. It was easy to regognize some. Lady Caerwyn, Mother Theralyn, and Master Haelren. Some he had never seen before but could figure out their identity, Lira Sanvek, Duke Arista Vaelros, Lady Vireya Duskmoor, and others. They would all decide his fate and the fate of his friends in just a few minutes.

  “We are not invaders,” he started. “We are not spies, nor hostile soldiers sent from some rival world to tear yours apart. We were taken away, beyond our knowledge or objection, to here, your home”

  The words struck quiet at first,but his voice slowly began to build in tempo as he spoke...“And yet… we didn’t rage. We didn’t burn your cities, didn’t flee into the hills, didn’t declare a war. We learned your laws and your people. We followed your rules when we were able. We trained in your styles. We fought forest beasts for your citizens. We bled for their safety.” Not exactly a lie, so Alex went with it.

  His eyes turned briefly toward Kailan. The Prince’s expression didn’t change since he speech started, but his fingers curled slightly on the armrest of his chair.

  “Some of us truly care for Terraxum. And some of us made friends here, among you.” Alex stepped up to the edge of the royal platform. “We could have run. We could have broken every chain put upon us and vanished into the wilds. Instead… we’re here. Why?”

  He looked around, meeting the eyes of Councilors, nobles, and observers alike. “Because we believe there’s still a path forward. One where we are more than prisoners, more than tools. Where we are allies. Not enemies and not pawns. People.”

  He left a long pause. Then one final line, simple, resolute. “We were strangers in your world. But we chose to become something more here, we wish we could share that with you all. The rest… is your choice now.” He stepped back.

  Then the King slowly lowered himself back onto his throne.

  “The accused have had chance to speak on their own behalf. Let the Council deliberate,” he said. “And may fate honor truth.”

  Lady Thessalia Caerwyn rose first, her gown the shade of moonlit steel, voice as crisp as the air before winter snowfall. “House Caerwyn casts its support in favor of clemency. Not from sentiment. But from prudence.” Her hands folded neatly in front of her. “The Worldstriders are anomalies, yes. But tempered anomalies. Their power is real, their value proven. What they lack in heritage, they make up for in adaptability. I do not say we trust them.”

  She inclined her head ever so slightly toward Alex. “Given structure, guidance, and purpose, I believe they will continue to benefit Terraxum far more than they endanger it.” She sat again. Her expression never changed.

  “Not exactly a sterling endorsement, was it?”

  That’s the nature of politics and politicians. Normally its not about what is said, it about what is not said. Like the idea of using us as tools for something. He looked at his friends behind him, each still stood proudly. Though, all the way in the back Tom-Tom was rubbing together two wooden ladels and muttering. Some of us would be better tools than others, I’d admit that.

  Next came Master Halraen of the Azure Vault. He wore ceremonial martial robes of dark blue, his normally jovial face was unreadable as he stood. “The Sect offer no claim over their fate. They walked our training grounds, fought within our duels, and stood, unbroken.”

  He looked toward Kate briefly. A small nod passed between them. “Strength respects strength. But honor…” he said, turning to the chamber, “requires achievement. I believe they did that.” Then without further word, he bowed shallowly, and returned to his seat.

  The Merchant Guild’s side of the table stirred next. Sanvek, an older merchant lord with polished rings and a smile like a closed debt ledger, stood slowly.

  “Profit demands stability,” she said with soft disdain. “Uncontrolled volatility… unsettles markets.”

  She offered no further elaboration on her position. But various members of the church and the noble houses off to the side gave slight nods in reaction to her words.Vess Auralde, seated beside Sanvek, did not rise. Her lips curled faintly at the corners, neither a smile nor sneer, and she said nothing. Still, just as Alex had explained to Obby earlier, that silence spoke volumes.

  Then came the Church.

  Cardinal Bramun Deros stood, cream-white robes rustling, voice like a bell cracked long ago.

  “These Worldstriders, they arrived as omens. Foreign souls, unbound by this world’s cultural teachings and understanding, yet wielding its power. That is no accident. It is a warning.”

  Gasps whispered through the outer chamber. “The System does not make mistakes. These Worldstriders are harbingers. Instruments sent by the divine to test our will. And when judgment arrives, it is the faithful who must rise to meet it, not cling to shadows cast by strangers.”

  He sat, trembling with self satisfied holy fervor. But before the murmurs could spread too far, Mother Theralyn rose, light pouring subtly from her skin.

  “I reject your doctrine, Cardinal. Not in pride. But in prayer.” Her voice was quiet, but firm, like sunlight moving through stained glass.

  “The scriptures of the Lady of Light speak of sparks of hope. carried across realms. Of those lost… and found. Free will defines us. Not birthright, nor of prophecy. If the Light cannot recognize the worth of those who choose to walk in it, then we are not worshiping Our Illuminated Lady. We are instead, worshiping fear.”

  She looked directly at the throne. “And I do not fear them. No, I fear we may become the darkness.”

  A ripple passed through the crowd. Some stood straighter while some shifted uncomfortably.

  And then Lady Vireya Duskmoor rose. Her long black veil barely fluttered as she stood, layers of purple and black over her form and obscuring any idea of her true appearance.

  Her voice was cold silk. “You speak of light, but you ignore the shadow it casts.” she said. “Our texts are older than time itself. Older than this very palace. They speak of the Twelve Stars who fell, of the Rift Children who would rise again, bearing false gifts and fire.”

  “The Striders are not salvation. They are a return to destruction. They are the beginning of what comes next… and I, for one, will not vote to doom us twice.” She sat, shrouded once more in silence.

  The King looked across the circle. Alex could not see any sign of his thoughts by looking at his face. He saw only detachment, and wrinkles. He looks to Kailan instead, finding the prince now leaning farther back in his seat. There was a tightness to the corner of his mouth that made Alex worried.

  “The arguments are heard,” the King said.

  The glyphs above the dias pulsed once, brighter now, almost anticipating what came next. Everyone else in the hall saw it too, creating a sudden stillness over the entire place.

  The King waved his hand in front of him. Alex thought it unnervingly nonchalant given the gravity of what was to come, for the lives of himself and the others.

  “Let the vote begin.”