The Council t once a week in one of the kingdom’s grand dining rooms, which had long been repurposed for that exact event. Once a place where nobles and knights had gathered for banquets, the room was now a place of order and debate.
In total, there were ten people in the Council, each seated around a long rectangular table polished to a dull shine by years of use. The air always carried the faint scent of parchnt and old wine, a reminder of how much ti passed inside these walls.
There were particular rules for those who sat on the Council. At any ti, if the other mbers decided that there was no longer confidence in one of their own, they could hold a vote of no confidence to remove that mber from their seat. To do so, one needed at least eight votes, more than a simple majority. It was a rule designed to keep the Council united, not divided.
Thankfully, it was sothing the kingdom had faced only once in its history. It wasn’t a practice they wished to repeat. When it did happen, the public, those who lived under the kingdom’s rule, were the ones who decided who should take the vacant seat. They did this through their votes, a rare act of shared power between the rulers and the ruled.
It was important for the people to believe in those who led them, to trust the chosen mbers who shaped their future. Even so, it remained incredibly difficult for anyone to go against the Council’s word. Their decisions carried the weight of law and legacy.
When such a change did occur, or when soone stepped down from their post, the people often asked the remaining Council mbers for their suggestions. Many citizens simply followed those suggestions, so out of fear of what might happen if they didn’t, and others because they genuinely believed that only the Council could know what was best for the Council.
That was how things were. Order built on trust, trust balanced on tradition.
Today was one of those eting days, and when Gary Bluebird walked into the room, he felt an unexpected warmth spread across his chest. His gaze landed on a woman with silver hair and a beautiful, welcoming smile.
“It’s been a while, Sylvia. How are things going for you?” Gary asked as he approached. His tone was lighter than usual, the tension of politics softening in her presence.
“It has indeed,” Sylvia replied with a small laugh. “It’s a little hard getting used to heading into the Council room again. You know I took a break from this whole thing for a while.”
“Right, to look after your children, wasn’t it? How are the two of them?”
“The two boys...” Sylvia’s voice softened, her eyes carrying both pride and worry. “Well, it’s hard to call them boys anymore. They’ve both been quite busy being adventurers, out there running their own guilds. I get updates from ti to ti, but I can’t help but worry about them as a mother. Still, they co visit at least once every six months to show that they’re doing fine.”
Bluebird let out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “The two of them are strong. They might even be stronger than , so I really doubt you have anything to worry about.”
“Right, right,” Sylvia said with a playful grin. “And that’s why we’re sending you out to the Furlow Kingdom instead of a Knight Captain, is it?”
Turning his head, Bluebird saw another familiar face entering the room, a tall, lean woman with long dark hair and piercing golden eyes. Those eyes were the most striking thing about her. They had the kind of presence that could silence a crowd. This woman was Martha, soone Gary Bluebird knew very well.
“We already sent a Knight Captain there,” Martha said, her voice even but carrying authority. “And they haven’t returned. The kingdom is still complaining that there’s more to be done. They say if we don’t get to the bottom of this, it could affect the whole of Bronzeland, just like the Shadow Plague.”
Bluebird sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s exactly what they’ve said. The request keeps coming in. If we ignore it, the unrest could spread.”
“Ha!” Martha let out a sharp laugh. “To say there’s a threat as big as the Shadow Plague, that’s crazy talk. It doesn’t even make any sense. There will never, throughout history, be another instance like the Shadow Plague! A couple of strange reports and now the people are panicking.”
“Regardless,” Bluebird replied evenly, “I do have to go.”
The conversation drifted as more mbers of the Council began to arrive, their steps echoing lightly across the stone floor. The seats filled one by one, and the room grew alive with chatter.
Bluebird made his way around, speaking to each of them in turn, asking about their lives and their work. Many were old friends, people he had trained with or fought beside in the Knight’s Academy years ago. A few were newer faces, people who had risen through the ranks after his ti.
The air before a Council eting always felt the sa, half serious, half personal. Laughter and conversation softened the edge of what would later turn into reports and strategy. It was how they ward the room before the formality took over.
But even while chatting, Bluebird’s gaze drifted now and then toward an empty seat near the far end of the table. The chair stood untouched, its back carved with a faint wolf emblem.
That’s the seat Jack always sits at, Bluebird thought, a crease forming on his brow. Don’t tell sothing’s wrong. There’s no way he’d miss this without reason.
The sound of the large doors swinging open interrupted his thought. Every head in the room turned toward the entrance.
For a brief mont, they all thought it was Jack walking through those doors, the familiar heavy steps, the quiet presence that commanded attention. But instead, a blond-haired man appeared, his hair spiked up nearly two fists above his head. His movents were crisp, practiced, and formal.
He stopped at the doorway and gave a small, respectful bow.
“I am here as a representative of the Red Wing Werewolf Division and of Councilman Jack Dem,” the man said, his voice steady but polite.
****
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