Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 19

The council of Cretia met just once a year. The gathering occurred on the summer solstice, providing entertainment for those preferring the dubious proceedings to Cretian shopping. More cynical observers suggested that the council was the closest thing Cretia had to a circus. Normally, the assembly was a time of postulating and propaganda, cementing internal alliances, and showcasing political skills. In truth, none other than the handful of serious politicians present really cared about, or were impressed by, the performances on show. This year, however, the event felt somehow different. 

Even before people started to gather in the council hall, there was a sense that this meeting would not be typical. A pair of Asillians had demanded to be heard. Even more controversially, a Palian had also attended, spreading ripples of excitement and outrage throughout the audience. Whispers filled the emptiness of the council hall with a constant, buzzing hiss. A dozen Cretian councilors perched on their elaborate wooden chairs, set in positions of authority high on the council podium. Galleries curved around the enormous hall, a ring of balustrades rising three deep around the outer walls. Artwork of unimaginable value hung from gilded ropes, though it was now covered in black sackcloth, to prevent any distractions from the theater about to unfold.

A dock was positioned in the center of the floor for those who would address the councilors. Dignitaries reserved chairs in close proximity, to ridicule, or lend silent support, to the strangers who stood before Cretia's most searching examination.

Having taken the floor, the two Asillians who aroused so much interest, had stunned the assembly with their outrageous claims. They alleged that a peril had awakened on the border of their lands, far to Cretia's east. The enormity of their words had yet to settle, initially evoking disbelief. Disregarding the jibes of the mainly uneducated masses, Malithas continued his speech. The agreement he had made with Salidon, was that Dathion would be spared this public address at his tender age.

"If you do not trust the words of Asillia's heralds, then will you believe a scroll scribed by her king?"

Malithas shouted to be heard over the rising voices, before hoisting Dathion's scroll high above his head. All could see the royal seal of Asillia crusted in wax upon the vellum.

"Do you fools even dare to read it? Or have the years spent filling your coffers and pockets in safety, while Asillia stands guard against the nameless legions from the east, dulled your appetite for the affairs of braver men?"

"Silence!"

The gavel of the head councilor rapped painfully. Having reached the point of no return, the voices continued for a time. When they had mostly abated, the councilor continued.

"You speak of blasphemies, creatures of fancy, and events mirroring those spoken of in legends and lore from a thousand years past. You grow old, Malithas, though I venture that even you were not present when the mythical Sword of Llanos purportedly pierced the heart of a god. These are tales to send children to their beds at night. Do you honestly believe them to be true?"

The rising fury of Malithas threatened to char and warp the wood of the dock on which he stood.

"I have a mind to let Cretia fall and burn, if it were not for the countless innocents around me! Certainly the world would not be poorer for the loss of this city's merchant rulers. You withdraw from the events which shape our world. Instead, you concern yourselves with the luster that sparkles across your gold. Cretia has a vast police militia who could watch and guard the lands on Asillia's western border. You could safeguard the people and farms of Erynya from whatever creeps past our endless vigilance. We cannot extend our forces to all parts of the lands. Our men and horses are not without limits. If you are not with us then I will seek aid elsewhere, and mourn the loss of Cretia from those whom Asillia names as friends!"