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FORTRESS CASTLE, REGIA
HIGH COUNCIL MEETING
The high council chamber in the heart of the castle was empty except for Kindel. He didn’t like being in this room alone. It made him feel like a child, sneaking somewhere he wasn't allowed. A copy of his proposal rested on every seat. Personally addressing the high council was something Kindel had only been called to do a few times before. It was a high honor—one that turned his stomach. He was sure his career would suffer if the council rejected his proposal, but in all of Fortress’ operatives, no one made more sense for this mission than Forest. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who knew about her prejudice against vampires. Her file documented it. Aside from that, the members of the council might act too high and mighty to care about a Halfling, but they indulged in gossip just like everyone else. They all knew about her.
The chamber doors opened. Security ogres came through first and positioned themselves strategically around the circular room. The six council members lazily filed in. First came Devonte, the Wizard. He was ancient and hunched and could give Oscar the Grouch cranky lessons. Kindel avoided him whenever he could. Wizards considered themselves above the law, and Devonte more than most. The fact that they were a dying race gave them an imaginary license for lawlessness. If Devonte desired more power, he could have declared himself the emperor of Regia, and no one would have stood against him. One wizard could destroy an entire army.
Next into the chamber was Nahcaan, the Ogre. Eight-foot-two, five hundred pounds of exaggerated muscle and a perpetually cheerful mood. One of the most educated and talented ogres in all of Regia, he spoke slowly and evenly. Kindel didn’t have the slightest idea which way he would vote on the mission. Nahcaan was excessively logical, but the ogres were faithful allies to the vampires. Always had been, always would be. Could logic trump fidelity?
Zefyre, the Elf priestess, followed Nahcaan. She smiled thinly at Kindel, who felt his stomach flip. She was five hundred years older than him(not that she looked a day over twenty), and had been Kindel’s first boyhood crush. It was hard for him not to blush around her as the memory came back into his head of how, when he was fourteen, he had proclaimed passionate love for her. He figured that she would be behind his proposal for the mission out of family loyalty; she was Forest’s aunt. Zefyre would never claim Forest publicly since her brother hadn’t owned that Forest was his.
Next came Frost, the Werewolf. Kindel always felt unsteady around him. He was broad as most werewolves were, and always looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week. However, for a werewolf, he was positively posh. A superior politician, slick as they came. What you saw was not what you got with Frost. Frost would probably vote against Forest taking the mission, because that would be the politically correct move.
Fifth in line was Gagnee, the Shape shifter. She was Kindel’s idea of the dragon lady. She changed her appearance more often than any other shifter in the whole of Regia. Kindel suspected she did so to eavesdrop on her underlings. Her vote would be the easy yes. Shifters were considered to be second-class citizens; they stuck together fiercely. Gagnee might not approve of Halflings, but the fact that Forest’s mother was a shifter would sway her.
Lastly, there was Lush, the Vampire, whom Kindel despised, mostly because of his rumored liaisons with Zefyre. He was typical vampire nobility scum, condescending with every syllable. Everything from his clothes to his tone of voice was calculated precisely. Arrogant and ambitious. He was nothing more than a successful social climber.
They sat in a semi-circle around Kindel, methodically smoothing their robes under their butts and looking down at the papers in front of them. Silence fell as they read. He watched their expressions change as they thought about his proposal. Lush shook his head in disapproval when he finished reading and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for his fellows to join him.
One by one, they put the papers down. It was Kindel’s job to begin the tug of war. “Shall we vote, or is deliberation needed?” he asked.
“Needed,” Lush said immediately, in unison with Devonte.
Kindel gave a little bow to the council and prepared to hold his mouth shut while the arguing began. It was, as he expected, going to be a long day.
Chapter Three