It was past noon, and the eting was still going on. The sunlight filled the room with an orange glow as the elves remained seated in their chairs.
Madayanti remained standing as the ceremonial atmosphere faded, her expression shifting from diplomatic warmth to sothing harder, more tactical. The recognition of the Sol’vur was complete, but the Council had more pressing matters to address.
"Now that formalities are concluded," she said, her voice carrying the weight of soone delivering unwelco news, "we must address the reason this Council was truly convened. The Empire’s escalating aggression toward our people."
She gestured, and one of the Arumaks moved forward, activating a projection system built into the central dais.
Holographic images materialized in the air above them, maps showing elf territories, human Empire boundaries, and, most disturbingly, markers indicating sites of conflict.
Jorghan leaned to the side, his chin resting on his palm, supported by his elbow. He was learning a lot of things today; Amasurata has really evolved into sothing like advanced human technology, he was aware.
From her earlier reaction, Jorghan could tell that she wasn’t the least bit fazed by what he said. It was like they weren’t even concerned.
She was the perfect example of what a powerful clan leader should look like.
"Over the past two years," Madayanti continued, "the Empire has shifted from opportunistic raids to systematic targeting of elf populations. Five clans have been almost completely obliterated."
She paused, letting that sink in, then gestured to specific seats in the circle.
"The patriarchs and matriarchs you see representing the clans, they are survivors. The last of their bloodlines. Their clans numbered in the thousands two years ago.
Now they count their mbers in the dozens."
Jorghan’s eyes moved to the indicated leaders. So showed their trauma openly, with haunted expressions and bodies that carried themselves with the tension of those who’d witnessed horrors. Others had buried it deeper, wearing masks of stoic dignity that couldn’t quite hide the pain beneath.
One of them—an elderly elf whose naplate identified him as Patriarch Korven of the Housha clan—spoke with a voice that trembled despite obvious efforts to control it.
"They ca at night. Imperial forces, Haelves, and technological weapons we’d never seen before. We thought we could defend our settlents, that our warriors would be sufficient.
We were wrong."
His hands clenched into fists.
"They didn’t just kill us. They took us. Captured our people—warriors, scholars, and children—and transported them to facilities we’ve never been able to locate. The few who escaped spoke of laboratories, of experints, of our people being used as raw material for sothing..."
He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
The matriarch of the Bjornnaga clan took over, her voice more controlled but carrying equal pain.
"We’ve gathered intelligence from multiple sources. The Empire is conducting genetic research, attempting to replicate or incorporate elf capabilities into their enhancent programs. The Haelves we’ve encountered—creatures that blend elf and human characteristics—are just the beginning."
The holographic display shifted, showing images that made several clan heads look away. Creatures that were neither elf nor human nor anything natural, twisted amalgamations of flesh and technology, beings that had probably once been people before being transford into weapons.
"Abominations," Madayanti said flatly.
"That’s the only word that fits. They’re taking our captured people and converting them into these... things. Soldiers without will, weapons without conscience, tools to be used and discarded."
The display shifted again, showing statistics—estimated numbers of captured elves from each clan. The figures were staggering.
"The twelve clans—excluding the Sol’vur, who were assud extinct—have collectively lost approximately sixty thousand people to Imperial capture over the past two years," Madayanti continued.
"But the losses aren’t evenly distributed."
She gestured to specific data points.
"Five clans were targeted most heavily and are now functionally extinct except for survivors present here. Seven other clans suffered significant but not catastrophic losses—hundreds to thousands of captured mbers, but enough population remaining to rebuild given ti and resources."
Then her expression shifted to sothing that might have been grim satisfaction.
"But five clans were barely touched. The Sarpetaretsu—" she nodded to Tadrukein, "—lost perhaps fifty mbers total, mostly scouts who were captured in border regions. The Amasurata lost even fewer—a dozen, all from outlying settlents that were hit before we could reinforce them."
Tadrukein’s scaled face showed a cold smile.
"The Empire learned quickly that targeting my clan was inefficient. Serpent blood is toxic to their enhancent processes; it kills the subjects before transformation completes. We’re useless to their experints, so they stopped bothering."
Citrangada stretched in her throne, her furred body moving with feline grace.
"The Rudanavas had a similar experience. They captured so of our people, attempted their experints, and discovered our physiology is too incompatible with human genetics. The resulting abominations died within days. They gave up after losing three facilities to the toxic reactions."
Indriyani spoke for the first ti since the ceremony concluded, her pale eyes cold.
"The Daitvitas maintain territories the Empire cannot easily access—deep waters, subterranean networks, places their conventional forces struggle to operate. They’ve made attempts, but the cost-to-capture ratio makes us low priority."
"And the Sol’vur," Madayanti said, looking at Jorghan, "were believed extinct. You can’t capture what you think doesn’t exist. Though given recent events—" a slight, humorless smile, "—I suspect that’s about to change. The Empire now knows the bloodline survived, and they’ll absolutely want samples of soone who can do what you did on that battlefield."
Jorghan had remained silent throughout the discussion, his expression neutral, his posture relaxed. But his eyes tracked every detail: the holographic displays, the speakers’ body language, and the reactions of various clan heads to different pieces of information. He was absorbing, cataloging, and building a comprehensive understanding of the situation before committing to any position.
Sigora watched him from her seat in the secondary ring, recognizing the pattern. This was how he processed complex situations—silence and observation followed by decisive action once he’d gathered sufficient data.
"The question before this Council," Madayanti continued, "is what we do about this. The Empire is systematically harvesting our people. So clans are already broken beyond recovery. Others will be if this continues unchecked. We need a unified response, a coordinated strategy that goes beyond individual clans defending their own territories."
Patriarch Kal’tun leaned forward, his massive fra making his throne seem suddenly small. "We’ve tried coordinated defense. Shared intelligence, mutual support agreents, and combined forces when attacks were detected. It hasn’t been enough. The Empire adapts faster than we do, and they have resources we simply can’t match."
"Then we need to shift from defense to offense," Korreth suggested.
"Strike at their facilities, disrupt their research, and make capturing our people more costly than it’s worth."
"We don’t know where most of the facilities are," a matriarch countered.
"They’re hidden, protected, and scattered across Imperial territory in locations our scouts can’t easily access. And even when we do locate one, even when we successfully raid it, we’re talking about rescuing dozens while leaving thousands still captive."
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