"Iolantha and her softly spoken husband arrived last night," Lorthrendel commented from the finely carved wooden table. He sipped his tea, his gaze glued to his blue bound spellbook. His legs, which were clothed in a pair of black leggings, were crossed. "I really can't stand Vadrian. If you ask me, Iolantha could have done much better than him. She is quite lovely, wouldn't you agree? And intelligent. For a Sylvanaar, of course. Vadrian is handsome and all, but...he's a bit strange. Even I'll admit that looks are not everything that counts in terms of romance."

Amnestria cast him a smile. "Vadrian is just not the best at social interactions. But I can see why Iolantha married him. They're perfect for each other." She tugged out a knot in her hair with her comb, slightly wincing in pain as she did. "I wonder if they've thought about having children yet. Iolantha has the perfect hips for the jobs. Which is a rare quality for an elf."

Lorthrendel raised his eyebrows at her. "Those are odd comments for you to make." He shook his head and returned shortly to his book. "She probably married Vadrian because he's the damn Highlord of Sheeth Alinar. That's all he has going for him, in truth. He did inherit the throne, correct? What was his father's name? Max-Maxyn-something."

"Maxrynor."

"Yes, that's it. Odd name for an elf in my opinion. But I suppose I have no right to talk about Iolantha and Vadrian's relationship." He shrugged as he returned to his previous topic. "I have no intention of getting married. I grow weary of seeing the same face each time I get in bed with somebody. The day that I fall in love with a person is the day that I give up magic."

"You should become a relationship counselor." Amnestria laid her comb down on the wooden dresser after she was through and walked over to him, her high heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

"Very funny, darling." Lorthrendel took another drink from his tea. The cold, sweet liquid traveled smoothly down his throat and made him sigh. "Didn't the Dwarf King also arrive last night?"

"Yes." The High Sorceress sat gracefully down in the chair opposite of him, swinging her legs across each other. "As well as High King Sebastien. He arrived here at dawn."

"Truly?" Lorthrendel looked up at her from his book in quiet surprise. He gave a small chuckle and shook his head as he returned to his tome. "I honestly wasn't expecting him to make it. The man was dying, last I heard. And traveling such long distances won't help slow down that process."

"Sebastien is a good man," Amnestria said after a slight pause. "He would not even attempt the trip down here if he knew it weren't important. He has no heir to the throne; all his children died many years ago, as well as his bride. After what happened in Lyrenbel, I can only imagine the state he's in."

Lorthrendel huffed out a soft, exasperated sigh. "Why do I get the feeling that I am currently the only person on Almora that doesn't have a clue what happened in Lyrenbel?" He turned the page.

"You really don't know?" Amnestria's brows wrinkled.

"No, dearest Amnestria, I haven't a clue." Lorthrendel glanced up at her. "Care to explain? It seems to have been very tragic. And I love hearing tragic stories."

"I-"

Two knocks suddenly came from the door, halting Amnestria's response.

Lorthrendel smiled as he began to unconsciously bounce his knee. "I bet you two steel pieces that it's Yenishdrendril." His smile disappeared. "Tell her to go away."

Amnestria cast him a sideways glance before standing up and walking over to the door.

A tall girl with hair and eyes the color of pure melted gold greeted her when she opened it.

"High Sorceress!" Yenishdrendril bowed deeply, her short hair falling into her eyes. She rose up. "So sorry to disturb you! But the others are waiting, my lady. The other rulers, that is." She dared a peek into Amnestria's chambers, but the High Sorceress moved so that she was blocking the girl's view.

"Thank you, Yenishdrendril. Let me get a few things together, and we'll be right out." Amnestria nodded kindly at her before quickly shutting the door.

Lorthrendel closed his book with a snap. "Is it time, then?"

"Yes." Amnestria sighed and gently pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Come on. You'll find out about Lyrenbel there."

~-~-~

The Council Room was designed so that the delegates and rulers of each of the races could easily see all the others in the room. The chamber itself was very beautiful; painted a cold grey and decorated with both colorful and traditional designs of each race. The black marble flooring was so clear and clean that it had an almost mirror-like surface. The domed ceiling was painted with a magnificent mural that depicted the first map of Almora ever commissioned back in the Old Era.

Standing in the center of the room, waiting to greet his guests, was Louis Whitecomb. Whitecomb was a very unlikely king. And if one would see him, they would think that they were looking at a simple commoner or peasant, definitely not the King of all Dalyntarth. He wasn't elegant, fluent, or even very confident in what he did. On the inside, anyway. He had to keep an aura of confidence on the outside to keep his people happy and calm. Which he did. In a way.

A man who looked to be between the ages of twenty and fifty five, he was a jovial person, and had laugh lines around his mouth. He had no significant features like most rulers would. He was a very simple and plain man, who combed his hair the same way everyday and made sure he at least looked presentable. On this day, he wore a nice and humble suit with an overcoat to repel the chill of the large room. It was indeed a wonder how he had won the election to become King, but everyone seemed to be content with him, and that was what mattered.

He had his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his palms clammy and wet. Behind him sat the entire Crownguard. Louis could practically feel Joseph Murphy's eyes burning holes into the back of his head as he waited for the door to open. The King forced himself to breathe slowly and easy. It wouldn't help to have an anxiety attack. Joseph would only see it as another way to criticise him as king. And it also wouldn't do to give the people anymore reason to see him as a "puppet king".

The witnesses for the Council were already seated in their tiny section. Among them was a dwarf, a Highlander with dreadlocks and stubble, and a Sylvari elf who kept his face lowered to the floor. Louis thought the Highlander looked somewhat familiar, but couldn't be bothered with trying to figure out who he was at the moment. He saw a lot of people everyday, and probably knew him as a passerby out in the town.

The double doors finally opened, causing Louis to jump back to reality.

His lips parted in a plastic smile as Drenmyr Warmaster and his delegation of dwarves walked in. His anxiety peaked as the half sized, extremely muscular and probably short tempered men approached him, their movements hypnotically synchronized. The King had his brown beard plaited and tucked into his brown colored belt, his heavy chainmail boots clanking and echoing throughout the empty room. They sounded like an army walking in, and it set Whitecomb's teeth on edge. He nervously wrung his hands from behind his back.

They stopped just a few ways in front of the King. The double doors shut, and silence fell over the room. The Dwarf King spread his feet wide, crossed his arms, and gazed Louis up and down from underneath his bushy eyebrows, sizing the king up.

Louis swallowed, and after a few tense moments of quietude passed between them, he said, "Greetings, Lord Drenmyr Warmaster. It is an honor to meet you at last."

The dwarf smiled. He ever so slightly bowed. "Aye, the feeling is mutual, Whitecomb." His eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "I was...expecting someone a little bit...taller."

Louis chuckled, albeit it was a little high pitched. "My apologies I didn't hold up to your expectations, Lord Drenmyr."

The dwarf chortled. He gestured to his men and began walking to their seats, the echoing of their chainmail boots starting up once more.

After they had passed, Louis Whitecomb clasped his hands back together and returned his gaze to the closed double doors, anxiously awaiting to greet whoever came next.

The Almoran Council was just about to begin.

***🐉***

Thank you so much for reading! I know this chapter is a bit shorter than normal xD If you have any suggestions or criticism for me, please tell. I've been working on adding in small details when I write as well, because I feel like that is lacking in this.

Thank you so much for reading! Until next time~