Death's End

Chapter 20 - Ishva

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.