Michael fixed his seating position as the Cyclopes around him continued to talk about different things their sector needed. He was seated on an ornate throne seat that they had somehow made in the short time after the system notification popped up. How they got a seat this fantastic in that short amount of time left Michael baffled. Looking up, he watched as the Cyclopes sat near the bottom of the stairs up to the throne seat. All around a table that had their heads at Michaels level.

Each one trying their best to convince him of allocating resources to them specifically. The Head-Blacksmith wanted as many resources as he could realistically pull, while the priestess argued with him over his greed and how Michael should spend more training specialized warriors. That surprised him the most when the argument first broke out, the Cyclopess and the Hunters were actually magic based troops that were trained from birth. The Hunters were masters of Shadows while the Cyclopess were masters of Wind.

Rubbing his forehead, he looked towards Bialo, who was seated to his right, with a pleading face. Maybe he could stop this jumbled up mess of rumbling voices that continued to plead their cases. Yet, as usual, Bialo was adamant he fully experience everything without his help. Something about how he needs to learn firsthand, of course when Michael had pointed out that he still learned quite a bit when Bialo solved the issues, he got a good amount of amused laughter instead of the agreement he was expecting. That meeting ended with Bialo patting his shoulder and guiding him here.

“We make the very weapons you use, Kiala. On that bases alone, we should be getting the majority of the resources divided among the blacksmiths of the city… You already have over a hundred students in your secluded tent-” the Head Blacksmith, whose name was Trevagat, said to the Priestess.

“It's not a tent, we find comfort as something quite valuable. Not like some brutes who only learned to bash metal ore with their heads,” Kiala spat back, but Trevagat was not going to stop any time soon. Easily speaking over her voice and continuing his booming tirade.

“- of nothing but cloth and rugs! You can't possibly teach any more students with that many already on your platter,”

“Enough of your bickering!” The golden armored Cyclops boomed. “Have some shame! Did both of you already forget we are in front of his Majesty! Your ancestors would roll over in their graves,”

As Michael watched him interrupt the other two’s discussion, he smiled when he noticed Kiala’s raised eyebrow. He didn't even need to ask for her name, conveniently given to him by the boisterous Blacksmith. But, what he didn’t expect was the armored Cyclops’s next words. Did they all have to be so eccentric?

“Then again, what is more important than the army. We are the very protection that has bought all of your freedoms at the heavy cost of our blood. Do any of you deny that?”

All that had gotten was incredulous looks from the two and even a snort from the silent assassin of a Cyclops seating in his black garb covering his entire body, even face. Or so he thought he was supposed to be with those short swords and daggers covering his body. Slowly a massive frown formed on Kiala’s face as she tried to stare holes through the helm that covered the other Cyclops’s face.

“Julius-”

“The first of my name,” Julius quickly added, the smug smirk hidden by his armor clearly heard in his voice.

“You have no stake in this discussion,” Kiala said slowly. Julius tried to cut her off again but was quickly given a withering look that had him coughing instead. “Your protection, now his Majesty's army, has been sitting idle for the past few centuries. Where were your so-called soldiers when Senzard snuck into our previous city? Oh, yes, I remember… Your highly ranked generals, most intelligent of the bunch, had been duped into getting stuck in a swamp long enough for everything to happen without their presence!”

“Why were your soldiers there in the first place, Julius?” Trevagat asked in what sounded like real curiosity.

“N-no, reason in particular,” Julius said in a much quieter voice, only to receive everyone's stare including Michael's and Bialo’s.

“Gah, alright, alright! Those stupid idiots ran looking to capture a weapon capable of killing a god to add to our arsenal. Each general hurried to get their first to have all the glory to themselves. If it wasn't so hard to find a Cyclops capable of leading thousands of others, I would have had them all executed!”

Michael watched them explode into a flurry of outbursts, insults, and endless amounts of eyebrow knitting and frowning. Sighing again, he cleared his throat as loud as possible. The one thing Michael could say full-heartedly, ignoring their multitude of mistakes and brash behavior, was that they treated him with the utmost respect. They showed a great deal of discipline whenever he spoke up, never allowing their voices to rise or their words hold malicious intent; meaning to harm him in any possible way.

Having gotten their literally undivided attention, the once nerve-wracking, noisy room became so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. That is if you discount the constant presence of the ravens and crows that seem to always find their way to where Michael was located. It had him kind of concerned, but that was a thought for another day.

“How was it before I became your King?”

The Cyclopes all looked at each other, silent messages being passed through eye contact alone. Somehow, they had another entire argument full of wiggling eyebrow, pursed lips, head shaking, and even a few shakes of the fist at one or another. That all happened within the span of a few minutes until the silence became a bit oppressive. Michael had his mouth hanging open at the sheer incredulity of the scene before him. Without voices to give their facial movements meaning, they looked utterly silly.

Finally coming to a decision, which had Trevagat clearly upset, Julius got up from his seat and faced Michael. Putting his right-hand to his chest, he bowed down to a ninety-degree angle. With a flourish of his hand, he rose and looked not at Michael, but at the steps before him. That left Michael a bit uncomfortable, while being a King was terrific, the amount of reverence the Cyclops showed had him biting his lip.

“Your Highness, please forgive our shameless actions. In your presence, we must act with decorum and respect for your elevated status. As to the state of affairs before your most glorious rise, we had a quarter of all resources stockpiled for future endeavors if the council could ever come to a decision. Designated towards buildings, farming, and certain cost-friendly crafts including, but not limited to, leather-working, stone-cutting, and tailoring.

The rest of our resources are split evenly, through the value of said resources, among the four different groups standing in your honorable presence. The army, the priestesses of The Great Ones, The Hunters, and lastly, The Merchants Block lead by the Head-Blacksmith,”

Furrowing his brows, Michael stared at the bickering group which excluded the Cyclops in black leathers, who he guessed was the leader of the hunters. He had to take a while before he could get his thoughts in order.

“Uh… wait, if everything was already split evenly between all of you, why are we having this discussion?”

That got the lead hunter's first significant reaction of the day. Hearing Michael, he burst out into stomach-churning laughter. Wiping tears away from his eyes, he gave a great sigh signaling he was done. All the while everyone stared at him intently, the Cyclopes were attempting to drill holes into his skull while Michael was just confused; and he looked utterly unfazed.

“Go on, go on. Don't mind me, please,” the lead hunter said. His lack of extreme and exaggerated decorum when addressing Michael was refreshing to say the least.

Massaging his forehead, Michael couldn't but help but think the meeting will take forever to finish. This was still the first thing they had to discuss, a non-issue that was already solved before the important meeting. As he felt a major migraine coming up, a sudden thought popped into his head. Looking around, it was only Bialo, Julius, Trevagot, Liala, and the lead hunter whose name he had yet to learn. Someone was missing.

“Where is the short Cyclops?” Michael asked.

Of course, that got the largest bellowing laugh from the otherwise silent Cyclops. It had him bending over, barely able to breathe.