The Warlord

Chapter 6: Calthius

The queen's ladies are as sweet and as vicious as ever, hiding viper tongues behind lace fans and blushed cheeks. I do not know why my mother keeps them around, why she allows them to sit by her side and fill her ears with gossip and rumors. Maybe to keep the lords of Heaven loyal while my father remains near the middle realm, overseeing our battle with those pesky magic-wielders. After all, if my mother has their daughters in the palm of her hand, they would bow and pray to and throw themselves over hot coals for her.

One of the ladies inches towards me and rests a hand on my arm, trying to flaunt her grace and poise. I almost burst out into laughter as she says, "Are you well, my lord? I know how dull these mandatory meetings can be." Her voice is dripping with false sympathy, dripping with hope that maybe she can thaw my heart. She begins to stroke my arm, trying to draw some sort of reaction from me, but all I do is wave my hand at her. A clear dismissal. I almost sneer as she gives a huff and flounces back to my mother's side, no doubt to whisper about how frustratingly aloof I am.

I turn my attention back to the circular meeting room, where the lords and ladies of Heaven rest seated in auditorium-like formation. Galvan, god of heavenly messages, called this meeting half an hour ago, yet I spy his face in the crowd, looking anxious and ripe with anticipation. Surveying the room, I find that none of the Top Order are here, and that their banners have been taken down from the seats. What are they going to do?

Right before I turn to my mother and ask what in the world is happening, a hush falls over the room. I see the mouths of the crowd zip themselves together, despite the startled looks of their owners. Zarul's doing, no doubt. The court ladies go quiet, their fans fading into little more than a faint rustle. I straighten as a click echoes through the room, and the sound of stone against stone fills the air. Slowly, the center circle in the engraving on the floor of the auditorium rises until it is half the size of a god. Everyone leans forward in their seats, including me. No doubt their mouths are still tied together from Zarul's spell, otherwise the room would be filled with cries of surprise and confusion.

In a flash of light, the Top Order appears, the five of them circling the table. Zarul, in his flowing robes and ink-splattered wings, the death incarnate. He turns towards the crowd and raises a finger to his lips. Everything falls silent; each movement, each breath, each bit of sound vanishes.

"Lords and ladies of Heaven, you have probably wondered why we have called you here." His soft but strong voice washes over the auditorium, setting everyone at ease. "Today, our messenger god, Galvan, received an interesting letter from the queen of Serestine." He pauses, waiting for the surprise and shock to pass before continuing. "We are here to discuss this letter, and to vote on the proposition it contains. We ask that you remain silent and only speak when asked to." He waves his hand over the crowd, and I feel his magic dissipate, letting the bonds of silence fall away.

Zarul reaches into his robe and pulls out a clean, crisp white scroll. I spy the rose red color of the Serestine stamp before Zarul unrolls the parchment before the crowd. "The queen of Serestine wishes to end this war, which she claims has taken thousands of lives, and a toll from both sides. She asks to send her warlord here as an ambassador of peace."