The search for the Keepers of Truth and Might have set into motion events that herald the return of Hemran'na. His harbinger, The Unspoken One, has awoken and shown himself to the Faithful of Cherisium. Elsewhere, secret societies band together and...
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"It was no wonder that the Ka'nakar's dormant form had come to be known as the Activating Scroll, though that translation was only partially accurate."
- From The Thousand Years War, Part II, page 576
Alacor, Grandmaster of the Soroth Necrotic Order, strode into the principality's senate chamber. The room was situated atop the highest floor of Soroth's capitol building. Faint chatter filtered from the chamber's upper tier, mostly conversations speculating the reason for this emergency meeting. Above Alacor rose a rotunda nearly forty-five phineals in diameter. The lower tier, where he walked, was two thirds that size. In a way, the entire senate chamber had the shape of a mushroom.
He neared the lower tier's heart where the senate's circular U-shaped table stood. Capable of seating its twenty-four members, the table was nearly two phineals deep and had enough room to accommodate any document and hold other accouterments necessary for the day's meeting. But today, there were no such documents.
Whatever we're discussing must be urgent... He considered the matters, but few things came to him.
Intrigued, Alacor eased into his chair near the table's opening. His position as grandmaster afforded membership in the senate, and thus a spot at the table. Though such meetings were not exclusive to senators and other heads of state, any non-member of the senate—constituents and representatives of other branches of government—had to occupy the upper tier.
Alacor rested his head on the plush cushions of his high-back chair, watching men and women file into the upper tier's observation section.
Only a handful of the one hundred and twenty observation seats were occupied. During scheduled meetings those seats were always filled by wealthy constituents and other parties interested in the day's proceedings. Those seats took up half of the upper tier, two of the four sections. The rest of the seats—which were behind him and to his left—were saved for the representatives.
The noise increased as more senate members and representatives filed into the chamber.
A hand clasped Alacor's shoulder and he glanced up to see Serati Cilgan, the Baron of Sereth. Wavy blonde hair, spotted with gray, bounced atop his head as a smile graced his face, the grin accentuating his chiseled jaw line. "Good evening, Grandmaster." His voice was deep and gravelly.
"A pleasure to see you, Good Baron."
Cilgan glanced about the room and pulled back the chair beside Alacor. He sat and whispered, "Do you have plans for attending this year's Feast of Sorrows?"
Alacor shook his head. Since his interactions with the Mindolarnian Embassy and Prince Negaris Midivar, Alacor had been wary of venturing to Mindolarn. Then there was the matter of his stolen communication tevisrals.
"Perhaps next year," he said. "I have several matters that need my direct attention."
Cilgan's grin broadened. "Always so meticulous. I appreciate that."
