“With all due respect, Grand Lord Councilor-”

Respect that was too hard-fought to let you besmirch, you filthy noble swine.

“We, the Noble’s of your Nu’ Council, those you have handpicked from the corners of every great nation-”

Yes, handpicked for your spineless, submissive nature, and deep pockets. Largely...

“We, all of us, do feel as if there is some explanation owed for the events of this past month.”

You owe me everything you have. Ingrate. I owe you nothing!

White knew his aggression was misplaced on the man standing across the long table. Reginald Mur Enchan was the embodiment of loyalism. He’d sacrificed four- no, now five children- to White’s guard, not to mention, White himself had openly attacked one- oh, nope, two now I suppose, silly me. A native Blancanan and one of Lord White's most invaluable allies during the earlier days of his long reign and eventual ascension to Grand Lord, Reginald Enchan was the first member inaugurated into White’s Nu’ Council.

Lord White took a deep breath and nodded his head. This was Reginald’s duty, of course, as speaker of the Nu’ Council, and White felt that the messenger did not deserve his ire. The snakes behind the message, however…

“ Thank you, Reginald. I, of course, understand any and all concerns or confusion in relation to recent events. Any bereft pits of sorrow some of you and your families may have fallen into are undeniably justified.”

White let that hang for a moment and watched as more than a few members of the council seemed to ease, loosening their tight muscles and upright stances. All those who had whisper-hissed their delusional demands to poor Reginald. Councilor Enchan was still extremely tense.

You do know me so well, don’t you old friend?

“That being said- any and all doubt or blame, or anger- or hate that you and yours may have placed on me during these times is entirely unjust and dare I say, treasonous. If not just plain inconsiderate. Have you all forgotten that I too suffered losses? That I too had to bury a child?”

Children. I had to bury two of my children, my favorites.

The Nu’ Council members knew nothing of Marina and Senfe, or of Ragoth’s play at being Mezir. They all assumed he was in pain at the loss of his one and only son; White had to remind himself not to chuckle at their ignorance.

“While I do understand,” White continued before any of the other eleven members in the room could take the chance, “ that each of you has suffered as well, that all of Blancana’s citizens are suffering still, I simply cannot offer you a solid explanation. After investigations that I myself carried out with the help of all my guard, including my elite Serpints, it appears that each event may have well been a stand alone incident. A rise in chaos that may have been boiling beneath our noses for the past few years.”

A tall, slender woman with the sunkissed mahogany skin of a native Blancanan cleared her throat. Vivani Vin Dreso, mother to Lili-Bon Vin Dreso, wore a luxurious silken white dress covered with gold-threaded embroidery in the shape of a thousand diamonds about its length. She wore jewelry in her ears that hung down nearly to her neck, adorned with a myriad of precious gemstones that were imbued with essence to look like teardrops fell from their tips. Not the typical garb for a mother in mourning, of course. White always felt her dressings were gaudy, her jewelry even more so, but the woman’s beauty was undeniable, even to him.

“Something to say, my lovely Lady Vin Dreso?”

From any other man the statement would have been patronizing at best, she’d likely had scoffed at the compliment and rebuked that they wouldn’t say the same to another man, but he was Lord White. He would, and did, say it to any man or woman he so desired.

Lady Vin Dreso smiled meekly, tilting her head in a seated bow. White recalled a time when she would have blushed at any kind word from him.

Just like her daughter.

“Yes, Grand Lord. As you have so eloquently stated, we are all in a place of suffering, whether for our own loved ones-” Vivani shook and sucked in a sob that seemed to have surprised her, “... or for our vast citizenry… and surely, I do understand the prospect of not knowing or understanding certain events, despite the most thorough of investigations.” She shot White a quick glance and he swore there was a flash of anger there in her tearful eyes, though as soon as it came, it went. Replaced by a vivid intellect that reminded him of Lili-Bon all the more. “Though..” Vivani’s fist clenched beneath the table, he could see it in her shoulders, her slim forearms, “... we must demand some kind of explanation, if not of what has happened, then of what you plan to do to help us heal. To help us rectify what has been done. Can you offer us nothing as of now, Grand Lord?”

White’s heart thrashed with the throes of an instantaneous rage but a slow, deep breath quelled it. So she wanted to challenge him? Now? So be it.

“ As a matter of fact, Lady Vin Dreso, I have much to offer you in the ways of a plan- and you, all of you- have much to offer me in the ways of seeing that plan come to fruition! We all work together here, Vivani, as always.”

Reginald Enchan shifted in his chair. Uncomfortable as ever.

“Ah, yes. Together. This means that we, the nobles of this court,” appointed by me, “ will provide you, our Grand Lord, with even more of our people. Even more of our supplies that our people need to survive. Even more of our children.” Vivani’s veneer of calm was cracking quickly.

The people I gave you? The supplies I transported to begin with? Ha! You’ve nothing that doesn’t belong to me you insect! Perhaps you aren’t as smart as Lili-Bon.

White said nothing.

Vivani stood, shaking harder than before. A quaking rage now as opposed to her jarring sorrow from before. “We have given you so much already Lord. What more can we be expected to spare? Are you not the protector of our realm? Of our lands and subjects? Did you not gather us all together to achieve a lasting peace across Noctra?”

No. I gathered you all together as my most indispensable puppets whose strings I’d like to keep untangled from the rabbles. I gathered you because I desired it.

“I am glad you bring this up now, Vivani. Your… displeasure with the handling and… results of recent events is duly noted.” White kept his tone calm, even. Purposely avoided recognizing her feelings of anger and sorrow; careful not to mention Lili-Bon's death specifically. “However, if you do recall, Lady Vivani the acquisition of forces, supplies, and citizenry were the only things that I have asked for in the pursuit of world-wide peace. A peace that, until very recently, has held firm. As such, I have held up my end as your chosen leader.”

Vivani blanched for a moment and looked as if she may begin sobbing then and there but decided to sit promptly and held a shaky hand up, conceding. White knew that she would not be so quick to concede should Lili-Bon remain “missing” for too much longer, that Vivani would have much more to say in the coming days, though he already had a contingency for such events. He acted as if he forgot her outburst and moved forward.

“ I am unable to speak to the motives and intent of our attackers, truthfully, all we can be sure of at this moment in time is that after invading my estate walls merely two nights ago the culprits fled into the Wilders. We do, however, have reason to believe that their final destination is none other than Trallengard. This fact should come as no surprise to any of you that remember our last conversation. Their rebellion is quiet, reserved- and growing in numbers as we speak. We cannot expect silence from them much longer and I fear that if the monsters who attacked our fair city make it to the leaders in Trallengard that we may be in for much, much worse than sporadic hospitalizations and property damage.”

White heard the shuffling of a chair as it slid across the floor before he’d even stopped talking.

What insolent, insignificant, vile pissant peasant dares to interrupt me now!

Standing just in front of a disheveled chair with sweat pouring off of his thick black brows and onto the table before him was Bravhi Sonur. Once a lone son to an excessively prominent family of Matria, councilor Sonur had been resigned to an uneventful, unimportant, powerless role within his family- until White approached him with an offer no power-hungry man could refuse. Bravhi’s cooperation proved to be pivotal in White’s acquisition, and proceeding demolition, of Matira. He couldn’t stand the sight of the meek little man.

“Grand Lord.”

“Yes, Councilor Sonur?”

“Thank you, Lord, for conceding the floor.” Sonur bowed low enough that his torso laid parallel to the large oval table where they convened.

“I do believe your chairs squalling left very little choice in the matter, councilor.”

Brahvi Sonur’s plump cheeks burned bright red on top of his flaxen-brown skin, no doubt he believed it was a hit at his weight, which had increased substantially since his tenure on the Nu’ Council began. It wasn’t, though, it easily could have been. Surprisingly, Brahvi did the smart thing and let the possible insult on his size fade away. Shaken, clammy hands wiped across his fine but plain trousers before he cleared his throat and adjusted a lavish sash across his chest. .

“Grand Lord White, on the matter of Trallengard-”

“On the matter of the nation of rebels that we were just discussing?”

“Yes, sir- Lord. We-”

“ We the Nu’ councilors or we the Coalition of Nobles?”

Silence congealed the air.

No one dared to even breathe, should they accidentally set White off. A swift victory, even for him. The Nu’ Council usually offered him good sparring of the wits every so often but he really couldn’t complain, reasonably at least. White quite enjoyed the fear-laden silence and hated to break it, however, he was a busy man with many things to do. He’d wasted enough time playing with his toys as it was.

“ Yes, yes. One of your representatives approached me, in my office, and demanded an update on the timeline to Trallengard’s downfall… on behalf of ‘the Coalition of Nobles’. On behalf of you. All of you. My trusted twelve.”

White waited for someone to correct him, to point out that he had included himself in the count of those few he trusted. None did. He stood without a sound and felt a smile crack across his hidden lips as every council member jolted in their seats as if a current of lightning charged through each of them. They stayed seated, whether, from fear or deference, White didn’t know. Couldn’t care.

“ One hundred soldiers, twenty trackers, and however much I decree from your coffers. All of you. No exceptions. Of the hundred at least thirty must use pikes, fifteen must be archers, and of course, all will be equipped with a Blancanan blade of their choosing. I will personally march after the culprits with our combined forces and ensure that they pay for their crimes. In my absence, Reginald Enchan will act as interim leader of this council, following strict guidelines appointed by myself.”

White turned and walked towards a set of lofty wooden doors lined with sparkling marble. He ran gloved fingers along the marble inlaid trim, causing it to flash with a silver light four times, which prompted the Serpints standing outside to open the doors. White did not necessarily need or want anyone to open doors for him but for some reason, it stood as a sign of power to nobles and leaders throughout time. Personally, he thought it would be more assertive to use casting to fling the doors open, though, anyone would be able to cast two simple doors open. Not many could send a signal through his estate's marble, which meant he had control of when doors were opened, control over those who opened them. Absolute control.

Grand Councilor White stopped, standing deliberately on the threshold, and held up a finger, his back facing the Nu’ Council members. They were all staring, sweating with worried hearts, he didn’t have to look back. He knew. Every person in that room was aware of how much damage Lord White could do with one finger. They knew what it meant if he commanded his Serpints to close the doors behind him.

White laughed loud enough to shake and inevitably shatter the silence sitting over the council chambers and snapped his fingers.

“Ah, come, come. They know not what they do.”

He couldn’t resist turning to see their horrified faces. No matter how many times it happened, they were never prepared for it. White thought it was lovely.

All at once, at his short, barely spoken command, hundreds of Serpints covered in White armor adorned with the dazzling sharp-tipped “W'' front and center. Some used precious gemstones to decorate the image, others opted to simply burn or brand it into their chest plates. He’d seen a few with essence spiraling throughout the symbol, creating amazing, and usually daunting, effects. Every Serpint wore their half-mask to showcase undeniable control of their emotions and being, only revealing their mouth to onlookers, and Lord White.

They dropped down from the high vaulted ceilings, slithered out from shadows created by the distant shelves stocked to the brim with keepers notes on past meetings, and walked towards their Lord and leader with nary a sound. The only thing that could be heard over the shuffling of lightly armored feet was the scraping that Serpints with larger weapons created as they drug their blades, hammers, and axes across the marble floor. Their arms slack faces stoic, and gaze cast forward, they strode slowly by each councilor, begetting them just enough time to fully take in their awe-inspiring, horrific visage.

Reginald Enchan bowed his head atop clasped hands and whispered a prayer as the last Serpint lumbered past him.

Who is it that you pray to, Enchan? Your God already stands before you.

“Close the door behind us, leave them locked in there until you see the last of your brethren disappear. Then, only then, may you let them out.”

***

“Locked. Again. Honestly, what joy does he still receive out of this treatment after so many years? Every single meeting he locks us in here, only to let us go after some indeterminate amount of time!”

“Until he doesn’t.” Lelona Ghouro sucked a long drag off of her rolled giggleweed.

Councilor Viviani Vin Dreso only blanched. Whether she was offended by the curtness of Lelona’s remark or the dank stench of the giggleweed was irrelevant, to Reginald Enchan at the least. He had no time for the bickering of his council mates today, no matter how much he truly enjoyed seeing Vivani put in her place.

Truly a wonder why she was ever chosen to sit among us. Sonur at least brings his disgusting wealth to the table. Poor councilor Vin Dreso has nothing now.

She may not have admitted it yet but they all knew her daughter was dead and poor simple little Lili-Bon was the only reason the lowborn Vin Dreso family had ascended to the good graces of their Grand Lord Councilor White. Vivani’s fate was clear enough to him.

Regional Enchan walked to the back of the council chambers and pretended to peruse some ancient scrolls and loose-bound texts from the earliest council meetings. He’d read them all before, of course, as he believed any councilor worth their time ought to, and often revisited them in the cumulative hours' Lord White left them locked in the council chambers. Vivani was correct, White did it after every meeting; though, always for a viable reason, Enchan had come to find.

Only a few short years back when he had actually been engrossed in re-reading the old texts, he’d stumbled upon one of those very reasons. A small tunnel that opened only when two certain, quaint leather-bound books without titles upon their face were moved at the same time. Enchan immediately dove into that tunnel and began exploring after each and every meeting.

As always, after Lord White left and the other councilors congregated at the front to bicker, complain, plot, and scheme like mindless beasts, Reginald Enchan made his way to the shelves in the furthest left corner of the gargantuan room. When he was sure that no one was looking his way Enchan removed the two small books and slid the entire shelf over to the right. Careful to close the passage behind him, he left the books on the floor outside the tunnel. An Indentured would come to clean the room and think nothing of placing it back on the shelf. It was their job, after all.

As soon as the false shelf slid back over the hidden entrance the sound of his fellow councilors' voices cut off and left Reginald Enchan in absolute silence. Accompanied by the unending dark of the tunnel, the silence had unnerved him the first time, now, however, Enchan knew what to do.

One, two, three, four.

Just like White’s signal on the council chambers threshold, only in the tunnel, Enchan did not have to cast at all. Hundreds of brilliantly bright estorches shot to life at the fourth tap and illuminated his path. It had taken him nearly a year of stumbling around with a hastily crafted estorch before he ever realized there were empty sconces on the wall above him. Enchan filled them all on his own with slow, determined casting. The feat required more essence and will than he had cumulatively used in his last thirty years or so of life and Enchan was always met with exhausting sickness after, however, each bout of exhaustion was followed by a feeling of enormous vibrancy. A pure and unhindered vitality which his wife lovingly bade him against, as it was a feat that belonged to the younger men of the world.

Problem was, Reginald didn’t see many younger men, or women, left in the world. None of his own children had eclipsed the age of twenty-five. And that was exactly what he was going to talk to Lord White about. He didn’t make a single misstep or wrong turn the whole way through the winding tunnels of the estate walls. Reginald knew exactly where he was going. Exactly what he was doing.

Crete-Da-Torre. Please watch over me. I do this for my last son. My Zusil.

Zusil Enchan was the very last of Reginald’s children. An early nineteen, Zusil had watched as each of his eight brothers and sisters were called to replace the last in service of Lord White. Along with Reginald and his wife, Zusil witnessed their family shrink one member at a time. When news of Rhui’s death reached home it had nearly broken Reginald, who sobbed openly in front of his youngest son for the first time he could remember. His lovely wife, Seultes Enchan, was entirely shattered. Despite her undying love for each of her children and husband, it was well known that Rhui had been her favorite, almost entirely due to his uncanny resemblance to her own father.

Zusil simply comforted his mother by toying with her hair and whispering sweet words. Held his father close like an infant until his tears stopped and Reginald could care for poor Seultes. Then Zusil left to paint a magnificent portrait of his late brother. He hadn’t spoken a word since. Didn’t pick up a brush or pencil for the first time since his adolescence. Zusil’s face was a cold resignation, an acceptance of the one fate he never desired. The one thing he should never have had to do.

I do this for him.

Reginald Enchan’s sweat laden palm smeared against thick blankets of dust, dirt, grime, and forgotten particles that had sifted through the floorboards and walls of the longstanding estate. His heart pulsed into his fingertips as he pushed, hard. He’d opened nearly every door he’d come upon in his explorations and found a great deal of favorable short cuts, such as the one that gave way to Reginald’s audible exertions. Light poured in like the ocean's own waves, crashing over him and blinding his eyes for a moment with burning that wasn’t wholly different from the saltine air of the port. When the agony of his eyes subsided Reginald saw a well-lit hall. Some corridor or another he’d never come across simply walking the estate grounds. He had no idea where it was but Reginald Enchan knew for an irrefutable fact that Lord White would be there soon enough.

He always made his way to this secret corridor after council meetings and Reginald followed behind him many times before from inside the tunnels but no matter how long he waited, he never witnessed Lord White come back out. Nor was he able to see what was in the lone room at the end of the corridor.

Not wanting to waste any time and chance missing his Grand Lord, Reginald closed the section of false wall behind him to conceal the tunnel and rushed down the long corridor. As his eyes adjusted to the space around him he came to realize that it wasn’t quite as bright as the rest of the estate. More of a bare minimum amount of lighting than anything. And the walls were… odd. No marble or wood, only drab greystone bricks that looked as if they crumbled in more than one spot.

Pointless to ponder about the architecture here Reginald. For the time being at least. What shall I say? How do I save my last remaining heir, my sweet, artistic young boy? If he comes to serve our Lord… he shall surely die.

Councilor Enchan stopped dead in his tracks and leaned his head against the greystone bricks. He could think of nothing other than their surprising chill against his skin. Reginald knew how Lord White operated. How he thought. Not so well as he would like to, of course, but much more than all the other councilors combined. Sniveling and begging would only warrant a hard smack- at best. Appealing to reason only worked when there was reasonable evidence to do so. Appealing to Grand Lord White’s emotions in any manner was a tumultuous path at the least.

Reginald’s only hope to save his son lay in the fact that Lord White seemed to like him. Genuinely like him. Trusted him enough to give Councilor Enchan the position of speaker, which until recent developments, had been quite the occupational blessing. He could only hope that his Grand Lord would take pity on one of his most beloved subjects. On the despair that ransacked Reginald’s very own abode, shambling those he had left to love.

He stood and straightened his back, leaving the oddly bland wall inches away from his own body, and began walking down the corridor once more.

No matter what. I do this for them. No matter what White offers, I will take it.

It took no small amount of time of walking before Reginald finally spotted a thickly bolted door made of blue and green metals he’d not seen elsewhere. He was starting to realize just how dismal the corridor truly was. Reginald also took note of the fact that he’d never seen an inch of the estate unguarded… yet no guards, Serpints or otherwise, were stationed along the lengthy route to the metal door.

I’ve time to think about these things later. I must focus on saving my family. Now. What. Do. I. Say?!

His heart was beginning to beat so fast the rest of his body felt as if it was moving slower, engorged with blood in his thin veins, begging them to burst and free his being of the rush that ran through him. Anxiety-Anger-Hope-Pain shook Reginald like he was a child atop quaking grounds. He very similarly wanted to cry out for his own Mama. Fortunately, a cold, stern voice cut through the hazy tempest of anxious-angry-hopeful-pain and shock.

Nothing, you imbecile. He is your Lord- your Grand Lord! He will speak first.

His reason, his experience, in not only life but with Lord White specifically, spoke confidence back into his person. He had played these games for far too long to lose out now. He could do this. Reginald counted a slow ten in and out. Steadied his shaking hands.

He had to do this!

So, Reginald did what any good servant would, and waited. Stilled all thoughts. Froze all worries. Adopted his best formal stance. And waited. It only occurred to him that he’d directly disobeyed White’s will that the councilors stay in the Nu’ Council chambers until allowed out when he heard heavy metal-laced footfalls coming from the dim world beyond his position in front of the blue/green metal door. He found himself nearly pressed against the door itself and had to breathe to a count once more before stepping away and standing tall.

I can do this.

White was close now, his massive steps resounded all about Reginald in the drab corridor, making the councilor wonder if White had any company tagging along. He’d never brought anyone else before but their Grand Lord was known for concocting his own fair share of surprises over the years.

And then Reginald thought about how White had reacted to the few things that had actually surprised him over the years. As wise and generous as their Grand Lord was he could be rather… impulsive from time to time. Then he wondered if a servant, a loyal subject and speaker of the Nu’ Council albeit, but a servant nonetheless, were to surprise Lord White in private quarters, would it elicit a good impulsive response, or a bad impulsive response?

It would depend on the situation I suppose. A lovely surprise tryst in the bedroom? Welcome, I’d imagine. Being accosted in a secret, dark, drab, dingy corridor… huh.

Even his professional sense of loyalty and deep noble sensibilities couldn’t keep him from sweating now. Had he made a mistake? Wasn’t much he could do about it now. White was nearly there.

Reginald bowed his head low and waited for his Lord.

I can do this. I will do this. For my family. For my hon-

***

“Fucking idiot. Now If you’d have just stayed put, you’d be alive!”

White kicked Reginald Enchan’s severed head hard and sent the hefty sack of shaggy black hair into the distant dark. The man’s headless body still bowed, unaware of its missing vestige. Bloodshot forth from the gaping hole of a neck that remained for a moment, audibly splashing against the ground. White had to step back quickly to avoid getting blood on his cape. Casting didn’t work the same down here, for anyone. Not even the Grand Lord Councilor himself. So White was even more agitated at having to physically avoid the splash.

“Fuck. I cared for you Reggie. Trusted you! Loved you, even… your family too- even the ones I killed, I loved dearly, if only for their relation to you. You were a great man, a great friend to me, Reginald Enchan, and your death shall weigh heavy upon my heart.” White rested a gloved hand on the cooling body of his dear friend, his trusted advisor, and allowed himself a few quick tears behind his smooth, faceless mask. “I will protect your last son, dear Reginald. This, I swear.” Lord White bowed his head and stood with a light giggle. “Now, I must be off to talk to my other confidant!” He kicked the headless corpse to the side and sent the door before him open with the gentle press of his hand.

“Goodbye, dear Reggie. I’m off to talk with ‘God’. Ah-hah!”