A Kiss of Fate

Chapter 15

The flickering braziers on the walls cast a dim glow across the council chamber, adding more depression to the woe-begotten room. An oval table rested at the center of the lusterless marble floor, surrounded by high backed wooden chairs, some occupied, and some waiting to be occupied.

Cornelius awaited the rest, his patience waning every second. No matter how many times he threatened them, they always ran late. To make it worse, they never failed to come up with excuses; to the extent he had stopped asking altogether. He adjusted his purple cape and gazed at the ceiling, trying to ease his restlessness.

The colorful expanse portrayed the advent of Aenor, the first human king to set foot in Aria. His frowning face screamed a silent battle cry, his sword, Nieril, raised in challenge. His flagship loomed behind him, the tranquil waves hugging its unmoving hull. All around him, his men were frozen mid charge, their snarling faces hidden behind their iron helms, eyes blazing with an excited frenzy.

His eyes swivelled to the door as Zelroth walked in with his sister. They had the same pointed nose and storm-gray eyes, but completely different personalities. Even though they annoyed him to the bone, he couldn’t deny those two were the best Captains in his command. Three more entered the room and took their seats.

As soon as all ten captains had settled in, Cornelius leaned forward. He studied their faces, even as they tried to avoid his gaze. Some of them looked curious, a few bored, and others furious, eager to voice their opinions. He already knew what they had on their mind.

Cornelius sighed. “I’m grateful you were kind enough to join me. Now, let us begin.”

The assembled Captains waited for him to continue.

“Before we discuss the matters at hand, I have some disturbing news,” Cornelius said. They shifted in their seats, their interests piqued. “The Lycan troops have begun their march to Acantha, and the forces of Argent are moving toward Targantine. Vorigan has convinced the Council that their objective is to crush the Resistance before moving on to conquer the mining cities along the border of the eastern continent, Eitheon.” He paused for a moment, making certain he still had their attention.

“I’m quite sure the entirety of Aria knows that,” Zelrine said. He sensed her urge to roll her eyes. Arrogant little twerp.

“But,” Cornelius said. “I recently received some odd tidings from one of my oversea sources. A few weeks back, Admiral Viktor Saroven of the Imperial Navy clashed with Eustace Teague, Pirate Lord of the Broken Waters.”

Cornelius watched as their expressions shifted from stolid indifference to unfeigned astonishment. Barely a breath passed through their lips as the Captains waited in anticipation. Clearly, this was not what they had expected.

“Of course, the Pirate Lord retreated before long,” Cornelius continued. “This occurred a few leagues from the coast of the Broken Isles.”

Zelrine stared at the table, deep in thought. “To think that the Pirate Lord drew back in his own territory,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“What are you trying to say?” Zelroth asked, his eyes fixed on Cornelius.

“The Admiral was leading a fleet of five hundred ships, each carrying a contingent of one hundred soldiers, all set for war,” answered the Commander.

Quinn waved his hand and scoffed. “That is not possible. The Broken Isles are more beggarly than the slums in Turahn. The Empire would have to spend more on weapons and supplies than they can make from those islands in a thousand years.”

“That is why I said it was odd,” Cornelius said, making it sound like he was talking to an idiot. “What does the Empire want in those waters? Why the sudden interest in some meager islands? Something about this doesn’t bode well.”