As the prince relayed his story, the quiescence within the Hall of the Seven gave way to murmurings, which rose to a crescendo akin to a song played by an orchestra reaching its climax. The incessant chatter reached an almost unbearable level before Minister Zila clapped once, its reverberant sound echoing across the dome like the sudden peal of thunder.

"I will have silence in the hall," Minister Zila commanded authoritatively. The chatter broke and almost immediately, the expanse returned to chapel-like quietude.

Having recounted his tale in entirety, Zenvix studied the faces of his intended audience. Minister Zila's face was that of an emotionless stone statue, its visage betraying nothing; inscrutable. The very face of political experience. Though it struck Zenvix as somewhat strange that the news of Aderis mounting an impending incursion on her beloved city did not raise even so much as the shadow of disquiet on her face.

Was she masking her emotions, or was she perhaps doubting the veracity of his account? Zenvix mused. Brain, the head of the Silent Guard, closed his eyes, his fingers drumming rapidly in succession on the table before they clenched into a fist. Novita the Prime Sorceress who was already cognizant of Nox's ruin, had a look of concern as she tilted her head and glanced at her fellow peers. Even the pink-haired lady held a semblance of worry as she perched her chin on her palm broodingly.

However, apart from them, the remaining members of the heptagonal table were unperturbed. A derisive snort arose from the furthest right.

"Hah! I don't trust the boy," Gyburn remarked gruffly. "Sounded like a pathetic sob story to seek protection under Ceil. Your father failed to quash the traitor before he showed his true face, got his own city destroyed, and now you are proposing to join your defeated forces to ours to defend against the traitor's supposed evil scheme?"

"I say there's no evil scheme at all, just a fallen boy prince wagging his tail to seek food from another owner's hand! I mean, just look at him, where else could he go?" The syndicate lord guffawed scornfully. A gale of suppressed laughter joined in from the seated audience around the dome.

"If you want, I have a warm place in my mansion for that nymph of yours beside you. At least she wouldn't have to suffer walking the wilderness with your homeless band." Yurisiviel clenched her fists angrily, looking about to give the colossal brute a piece of her mind, but she desisted as Zenvix placed a palm on her shoulder. Dylas shook his head ever so slightly.

Minister Zila raised her hand and slowly curled her fingers into a fist. The laughter died as suddenly as it came. "Language, Gyburn. The prince is our guest. No matter the veracity of his story, even if it sounds far-fetched to the ears, he is to be treated as a guest. Nothing more, nothing less."

Zenivx suppressed a snort of his own. Loaded words, well-oiled and well-practised. With sugar and cherry on top.

"I say what I want, when I want it, madam." The leader of the half-brother company uttered through clenched teeth, pronouncing each syllable with deliberate force.

Minister Zila turned her face slowly to stare at the colossal man, her eyes emitting a sheer biting coldness akin to the frigid storms of the treacherous northlands. She finally spoke, each word heavy and foreboding.

"Are you challenging me, syndicate lord?"

Across the heptagonal table, a wave of discomfort rippled out across the members. A shuffling of bodily movements arose, as exchanges of discreet glances were made. Even the dome, typically alive with occasional mutterings and chatter, was now deathly silent. The air grew ponderous and tense as the world watched the pair, fearful of defusing the burgeoning conflict lest they be sucked in.

Across Gyburn, the man named Brain placed a thumb underneath the hilt of his unusually thin sword, slotting it up ever so slightly. His watchful eyes focused ceaselessly on the minister for a possible signal.

The lord of the Half-Brother company continued to stare down Zila. After a painfully long moment, the sheen of rage oscillated within his gaze. He cracked his knuckles frustratingly. "Bah! Whatever. Don't come crying to me for protection when the pup bites your hand for all its worth," Gyburn snarled before folding his massive arms in contempt.

Interesting. Despite being a woman of no combat ability, her spirit was the stature of an indomitable dragon. Not one to be cowed easily. Zenvix pondered. It's no wonder she can keep the heptagonal table in check despite the....colourful profiles. The matriarchy had chosen aptly, it seemed.

Minister Zila spared one last wintry glance at Gyburn before returning her gaze to Zenvix. She spoke, her words warm once more, yet carefully measured.

"Pardon my council member for his less than courteous words. As Gyburn so bluntly put it, he has a penchant for saying things as they are, no matter the audience nor the situation at hand."

Zenvix revealed a bright smile, his visage an unperturbed mask. "No need for apologies, Minister Zila. Insults are meaningless flies to me. Whether they be big or small, they are swatted...and forgotten," Zenvix remarked politely, catching Gyburn's eyes, the latter narrowing in fury once more.

"Besides, I do know of one, nay, two people in my close circle who are just like that. Fiery tempers and straight talk. Getting used to them was a daily chore, so I can tolerate Gyburn's temperament," Zenvix added. Yurisviel pinched his back from behind him.

Minister Zila smiled; a rare occurrence. But that went as quickly as it came. Her next statement punctuated the air like an outthrown fist.

"He did raise a valid point, however. Warped and distastefully brutal though, it was."

Zenvix's smile rescinded slowly from his lips. As if in response, Gyburn's face curled up in a deriding sneer, his eyes alight with triumph. Zila continued, clasping her hands towards her back.

"Ceil has stood tall and untarnished since the founding of our nation by Carlos the Devoted. Throughout the ages, it has never fallen to enemy hands. And it shall not be known in the books of history, that it has fallen due to mine."

The prince held his silence as he waited for the minister to continue.

"I hope you understand, Prince Nighvicto, that here in Ceil we are keenly open to forge diplomatic relationships or alliances with other great nations, which I am sure you must have observed. However, we do not stand for entities, be they individuals or nations, that seek to usurp our lands and destroy all we hold dear, no matter the reason nor the circumstance."

Yurisiviel looked at Zenvix, a shimmer of delicate hope in her eyes as she recognized Zila's words of defiance against Aderis. But Zenvix's attention was focused intently on the minister before him.

"Keenly open to forge diplomatic relationships or alliances with other great nations except Nox you mean, prime minister?" The prince asked categorically. He had grown tired of word games. It was time to get to the root. The dome grew abuzz with mutterings once again in response to the sharp statement.

"Let us speak plainly, Minister Zila, and dispense with veiled words. Your nation is facing an impending crisis like no other. There is little time to lose," Zenvix uttered.

The austere-looking politician considered the prince for a long moment, and her eyes narrowed. "You requested that I speak plainly. Very well. You warned of an impending crisis for Ceil; in my opinion, the crisis is already here, bearing the flag of a full moon intersected with twin swords."

The chattering in the dome grew heavier as the attendees imbibed the gravity of that statement.

It took Zenvix a painful moment to register the audacity of those words; yes he knew that Ceil disliked dealing with Nox, but to imply an invasion by Nox surpassed reasonable boundaries. Yurisiviel, who was previously hopeful for Ceil's positive support, was flabbergasted. She seemed ready to burst out before Dylas grabbed her arm, giving her a warning look.

"Kush'Tar Expedition V, the last military campaign of Nox, was over four decades ago, Minister Zila. We are conquerors no longer. Besides, how do you think we can conquer the city of Ceil with our remaining troops? The devastation of Nox was known to all, " Zenvix said matter-of-factly.

"Not every conquest is achieved with an open, honorable clash of might, Prince Nighvicto. The blood-stained annals of Nighvictorian history had proven that." An aged voice called out suddenly from the heptagonal table. Zenvix's eyes shifted towards the source of the words, and saw the white-haired man hopping off gingerly from his high-backed chair.

"Harshra Pyros, Head Researcher, Historian and Scholar from Ceil's Great Library of Esheria," Minister Zila acknowledged.

He couldn't have been more than five foot tall, yet the elderly man spoke with a conviction and fluidity that belied his age. "History of Elarian Wars, volume two: The Kush'Tar Crusades. Chapter eight chronicled the Night of the Blood Moon. King Vladimos, the first of his name, planted moles within the city of Kefla who, within the span of a year, worked their way within the city's armed forces and royal court. Poisoning the chief commander of the Kefla forces as well as King Ronce himself, the city and its defenses fell into panic and chaos. On that very night where the full moon hung high, the Nighvictorian forces besieged Kefla on four fronts, further scattering the unorganized forces, butchering them, and then massacring every man, woman and child in the city. None...were spared," the white-haired man continued.

"It was said that on Vladimos's orders, Queen Tania of Kefla and various nobles were imprisoned in make-shift cages, and made to watch as their king and his sons were stripped and castrated in front of their eyes, before being left for dead; their life essences bleeding out of them in crimson rivers. At the sight of this wanton cruelty, the remaining vestiges of sanity left Queen Tania at that very moment. As the light went out of her eyes, the queen bit her tongue in self-imposed suicide, for the pain in her heart dwarfed even her will to live. She'd rather perish than witness her spouse and children in their final death throes."

"And so the royal line of Kefla was extinguished. Its flame snuffed out for all eternity. The ancient ruins of this city, though now a forgotten remnant of the distant past, still lies near the Heart of Elaria, serving as a stark reminder of the brutality of Kush'tarians, and the terror they once struck in the hearts of all men," Harshra finished.

There was a long drawn-out silence from the prince. Outside, the tintinnabulation of the city bell resounded, its deep ringing clangor echoing through the expanse of the dome. Slowly, a piercing flood of jeers rose like a tidal wave from the seated attendees in the hall.

"Despicable! Dishonorable!"

"Black-hearted scums, get them out of here!"

"They should be flayed, then hung from the gallows!"

The tirade of insults rose like a vicious serpent rearing its head, stopped once again by Minister Zila's raised fist.

Finally, the prince spoke. "You insinuate that we are working to undo and destroy Ceil from within as King Vladimos did to Kefla? His time was that of the Dark Ages, Harshra. As you very well know, Nox is a part of the Old Powers. Its interminable history had stretched for multiple centuries since the founding of Nox by Aviduz the Ambitious, hailed as one of the Great Heroes of his time. King Vladimos, posthumously known as Vladimos the Deranged, is but one of the many forefathers of Nighvictorian history."

"Yes, he was a cruel king. Yes, he was a black mark upon the history of Nox. But who can say that any prominent nation's history is completely pure and virtuous? None. Then, should the descendants pay the price of shame for their forefathers' sins? Should every son pay for his father's crimes? I think not. Then why should Nox and Noxarians be hanged, time and time again, for the nation's past actions when atonement had been given, and repentance had been proven through stellar deeds?"

"You were quick to crucify Nox's deeds of shame, but failed to appraise its deeds of valor for the common good. Tell me, what of Nox's eradication of the Yandi Pirates, who terrorised the western nations in the past decade? Tell me, what of Nox's act of being the first and only nation to jump to Eqia's defense when the spine-chilling beastmen from the northern tribes assailed the city?"

"For all of Ceil's talk of maintaining diplomatic relationships, where was Ceil during Eqia's most dire moment? Where was Ceil when Eqia needed its allies the most? Tell me that good sir, before you continue to besmirch Nox's deeds for all to hear." Zenvix declared, fire burning in his eyes.

"We may have done the world wrong at one point in time, but we were its sword and shield as well. Call us what you want. Tyrants, warmongerers, butchers. But you could never deny the truth that we defended the common good where it mattered the most, where others hid behind walls and closed their gates with quaking boots. Cowardice...that was never in our blood."

The hall was silent as the prince completed his speech. Harshra looked like he was momentarily lost for words. Shuffling back to his seat, the short man turned to look at the prime minister. As Zenvix returned his attention to Minister Zila, he thought he caught a strange glance from the amethyst-eyed lady beside him. A trick of the light, perhaps, but that fleeting glimpse felt like a look of approval, and maybe something more. Though, it vanished as quickly as it came, as if it never existed. Yurisiviel's eyes shifted forward, her silky rose gold hair concealing the side of her countenance once more. Dylas regarded Zenvix with a look of pride. Squeezing the prince's arm affectionately, he turned his head towards Minister Zila.

"A pretty speech, Prince Nighvicto. I see that King Arcturius has at least raised you right in one aspect. But just as Nox favoured its values of valor, tenacity and the like, Ceil has its own values to prioritize. Peace, prosperity and protection of what our ancestors have painstakingly built takes precedence. Inviting ill-fated attention to our doorsteps through military intervention goes against those values. I don't expect a Noxarian like yourself to understand," Minister Zila stated calmly.

"Nonetheless, my stand still remains. If my words had not been direct enough with you, as you shrewdly pointed out, then I shall be frank. I don't trust you. You claimed that King Vladimos was a part of the Dark Ages where Nox's warmongering was blatant and cruel. Yet, you shared his bloodline. There is no telling when Nox would ever resume its bloodlusted crusades again. If it does, Ceil shall not be the starting point of Nox's return to power. Not today. Not under my rule."

Zenvix almost shook his head in resignation. Indeed, Ceil's prejudice of Nox had been too deeply ingrained. Although his father had worked to avert a relationship of pure hostility, it was a fact that despite this, Ceil had never once accepted any dealings with Nox. His grandfather's last expedition which saw Ceil as a target of Nox's military assaults further cemented the deep-seated prejudice towards Zenvix's homeland.

Before the prince could respond, however, a voice quipped from the heptagonal table. "Is it true that during the return to Nox to save your nation, you led your small regiment in a reckless assault against Bliaton's much larger force, where the odds dwarfed you three to one?"

It was Faelynn, the General of Ceil's army. With her eyebrows furrowed, she scrutinized the broad-shouldered man before her. "You are hardly a juvenile, it should well be in the realm of common military sense not to do that. How could Ceil trust you in any military partnership if you have displayed such foolhardiness?"

Gyburn snorted heartily, spewing the wine he was currently drinking from his mouth in spraying droplets. "Well well, the pup wants to play the valiant hero you see. Must have fantasised himself to be a conqueror like his father and his grandfather before him, where all will bow down before his might. Heroics and stupidity are synonymous in the Kush'tarians' books!" There was a moment's silence which was broken only by the syndicate lord's bellowing laughter.

As the chortles began to subside, they were interrupted by a sharp refined voice. "Hardly, Gyburn." Novita the Prime Sorceress of Ceil, who had been silent all this while, spoke up with subtle aversion, her eyes regarding the giant man and his wine cup with a pained look. "You are forgetting that while Prince Nighvicto's battle force may be smaller, he had what Bilation's forces lacked. The presence of Jerius Lyvia, the Prime Sorcerer of Nox who would have supported his childhood friend from the city, and Yurisviel Yaleheart, most notoriously known as the Blood of the Valkyrie on the battlefield. Ordinary soldiers, no matter how blood-lusted, would not have stood a chance."

The syndicate lord glared at the sorceress with disdain, his next words slurred from wine. "Bah! What do you know? The sissy-looking magic boy was not even mentioned in Frath's story. Don't talk as if you were there, hag."

Novita's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And a singing bard called Frath would be there? What, risking life and limbs to witness a live war while sipping wine and eating raspberry pie? That is why Frath's story is just that, syndicate lord. A story. Do you even know any facts regarding the prince's background and his relationships? Instead of using a bard's story as a shield in your argument, why don't you display a presence of mind by evaluating the story's believability before making judgement? That will save you a lot of embarrassment, I assure you." The sorceress finished pointedly, before directing a smile at the prince.

"Why, you..." Gyburn almost motioned to unsheath his colossal blade, only to be stopped by an electrifying stare from Novita, her index finger raised.

"Careful now, big man." The Prime Sorceress remarked, her voice couched with a soft, lethal caress. "Your considerable hunk of metal will do nothing against me. If I will it, that blade will sooner sever you from head to groin, before it can travel an inch of a distance towards me." The flicker of a violet spark crackled briefly on the sorceress's finger, and Gyburn's blade shuddered. A shade of apprehension passed briefly across the gruff man's face as he felt the unearthly vibrations, and he turned back to look at his weapon.

"Enough." The cold, serrated voice of Minister Zila broke the escalating tension. "The Heptagonal Table is a place for discussion and decisions of great import. Not a petty tavern for brawls, and drunken hooligans," she said, directing the last bit to the fuming man still clasping his sheathed blade.

The violet spark vanished as abruptly as it came, and as the spell rescinded, the blade halted its vibrations, returning to normalcy once more. "This will be the last time I see you drinking wine in the Hall of the Seven, Gyburn," Minister Zila uttered with a tone of finality, sparing not a single glance at the syndicate lord.