Overlooking the bustling market below, the heads of Families met to discuss the affairs of the city. There was a long conference table carved in obsidian, which was clearly a newer addition when contrasted with the ancient chipped tiles under their feet. Overhead, chandeliers glowed with magic contributed by each family. All could create a basic light spell. Each was a slightly different shade, casting the room in a kaleidescope of colours.

Not sitting at the table, but instead in a row of ornate chairs at one end of the room, were the Diplomats. Leliana among their small number, all had their veils and Orphan wear, signified as of a higher order by a steel tiara around each of their heads.

Bheorse, Sot, Sedralogue, Eazu, Kopkin, and Dar Yi. Together for their bi-weekly conference. Most were bored, and had grown lazy and complacent in their certainty of power. A new head of house only came about when one of them died, and many of these people seemed to metaphorically suck the life of those around them so as to never let that happen. Others were so young that death was nothing but a historical event which happened to the ancestors and people in their way.

They had some papers in front of them - aside from two parties; the Sedralogue, an older woman with thick spectacles who insisted that she had everything in her head; And the Bheorse, an absolute tank of a man with tattoos all over his body. He said he’d just get the gist through the Sedralogue’s thoughts. Leliana reminded them all that the meeting’s minutes would be made available through the private section of the library for the archive. Just in case.

The head of the Sot family crossed their legs and adjusted their open violet top, laughing lightly to themselves and twirling their pen between their fingers. They had paper but Leliana knew they wouldn’t write a single word on it, at least certainly nothing about the meeting. It was increasingly likely, the more she watched them, that they came here high.

This was not unusual, and Leliana suppressed a tired sigh. At least the other three Families were a little more respectful.

The Eazu present had a smile framed by a curt black bob, and eyes that seemed on the verge of crying. They were always smiling, as far as Leliana had ever seen them. Their face must get tired at some point.

The Kopkin was stoic and patient, the most present of them all. He was young, with golden wavy hair neatly pulled into a low ponytail, he held his pen in hand like a poet of ancient times. He clearly looked forward to some discourse.

The Dar Yi sat upright in a silver suit with white hair long and straight. Her hands were folded on her lap politely. Her pen was poised over its paper, with her not paying it the slightest attention.

“If we are all present and accounted for?” Leliana began as the arbitrator of such a meeting, “We may open the floor. Have you seen the Agenda?”

“Of course,” The old woman who led the Sedralogue exclaimed.

Others were silent, but Leliana carried on either way. “The first is the seasonal ball. The youth really seem to look forward to this event, and it allows intermingling of the Families. You all know how important this is for keeping blood fresh. As you all know, you have a few weeks to work out the specifics. This Season’s ball will be held within the Dar Yi Home.”

The Dar Yi’s pen had been recording every word, while she nodded grimly at the idea, taking the floor. “Unfortunately, it is our turn to take the responsibility. We acknowledge and have come to terms with this truth.”

“What, something wrong with our young?” The Bheorse brute accused, clearly reading meaning where there was none. None spoken, at least.

The Kopkin, for whom not only honesty but prudence reigned supreme, slow-blinked at the scene before him.

“Would the Bheorse family please keep focused on what is communicated verbally,” Leliana requested.

Clearly with some reluctance, the Bheorse did not raise anything further.

“I actually had a point of contention regarding the balls,” spoke the old woman for the Sedralogue house. They all looked over to her curiously. “I had been going over some statistics and have found that our numbers are growing too rapidly, while some resources are growing slimmer.”

There was some commotion over the idea, but the woman carried on, “I did wonder whether our balls should be held less frequently for this generation, perhaps twice a year rather than every season.”

Many voices raised complaint. The voice of Sot however was most indignant, “This is the only chance in months that young people can actually enjoy themselves! Mingle! Dance! I find it outrageous to think,” they continued slurring their words but very passionately, “that society here should become more bitter and tired because we fucked it up for them. What’s the problem with supply? Can’t we bring those numbers up, rather than joy down?”

“As if you contribute to supply,” laughed the Dar Yi. “The only thing your Family supplies is more unwanted children.”

“Sweet crown,” whispered the Kopkin, unable to contain himself.

“My good people,” Leliana said over them, “Let us focus on the issue at hand. What can we do about supply?”

The Dar Yi, who was now very under pressure with both a high stake in supply and a demand to host the ball, fumbled over the papers they did bring with them. “Our crops are strong, but if we are looking at the rates of increase… We are aware, Diplomat, of a need for twice what we are currently making within the next ten years - which is completely doable. There is no problem.”

“For your own Family perhaps,” Eazu, who had remained placid until now, said sweetly. “But what about the market produce being provided for all? You will surely need more than double.”

“Why must the Dar Yi feed everyone? You are all capable at starting farming initiatives. It is not our job alone.” The Dar Yi replied, her pen furious on the paper.

“The Dar Yi have always been primary producers throughout our history. The Sedralogue have been second with the great Forest. Just as the Bheorse deals with butcheries and Eazu deals in medicine… We each have a part to play of course, if you would listen you would see that no one has said otherwise,” The Sedralogue said, too old to be riled by all this.

The Families not mentioned in the speech, namely the Kopkin and the Sots, were ready to defend their places, but the Dar Yi spoke instead. She felt that it was directed at her after all. “We will attempt to increase our yield year on year, but it will not be easy for our workers. The only solution I can see, if you require more from us, is more land. We cannot triple or quadruple yield using the same field. We still need soil to do so, and our lands are not endless. Moreover, we would require more workers. If you would convince your young to marry into the Dar Yi at the ball, they could be trained in our ways, and we could give you the food we all need.”

This suggestion was met with uproar. It might as well be heresy to ask for more land in the underground. They would have to figure it out. And the idea of taking the young? To have the lion’s share? There was no way in which that was not going to end in bloodshed.

Leliana watched all this and listened. The problem that they faced was serious. She was the arbitrator of their future, and in these situations of course it was her place to step in. Soon, their faces started glancing her way between all the shouting. She would have to quickly come to the right decision. She put her years of experience into that moment before she would say a word.

“The Dar Yi will have to accept the land of their ancestors. The ball will go ahead for this season. I believe every Family should increase their farming activity, and if the Dar Yi could be generous enough to offer the guidance of their best farmers in dialogue with the Families as they move to do so, then we will all benefit. We will be monitoring the situation, and it will have to be subject to change if things get any more serious. Can we concede to this?”

They did. Soon the meeting ended, and all the nobles and their guards left the Church of Royals. Some stayed to try to butter up Leliana and her companions but none of them said anything of particular interest.

After they were gone, things felt very quiet. Once these meetings ended, Leliana had a ritual of her own that she liked to participate in. She went down the winding steps to the main Church, and stood before the King and Queen’s statues.

They gazed down towards her with love, and she was filled with hope and promise. The sound of the fountain gurgling beneath them echoed through the mostly empty pews. Few people came to pray at the Church now. It seemed that they had forgotten how they were given the great gift they had.

These Families had become so self absorbed, they forgot how it was because of the King and Queen that any of them survived to become Families at all. It was something none of her Orphans truly understood either. She worried that she could, if she didn’t pass the information on well enough, be the last truly devout Orphan left.

She reflected as she sat at the pew on the homeless child adopted by the King and Queen when the underground was freshly dug in from the surface. Their kindness gave that child a new life. When the King and Queen died, magic would have died with them, and the underground would have simply been a dug grave. But they left for that orphan prince a way. That path they followed, and it crafted everything they now had. It was never the orphan’s choice, but their destiny, that they would create ancestry. The first orphan, who Leliana followed in the footsteps of, refused to pact, and thus refused eternal life. They were free to die, truly die. The orphan prince’s black of mourning was for their parents, who they would never meet again. And Leliana’s kin dressed in black in that prince’s memory, and for the memory of all Orphans, for they were of his kind, and they could never connect.

Leliana stayed in that moment, reflecting on her purpose, before the Church bell tolled, and she realised she was running late for a meeting on behalf of her new child, Arturri. Perhaps this was an opportunity to make a difference to this young Orphan. Show him the value of his new place, rather than his yearning for the old... She sighed. It wasn't likely.