Conclave

The prophecy foretold many years ago ceased as the man who had unearthed the lost fragment of the puzzle— The Sword Of Emeraldia— finally returned, prompting the invasion of monsters. Their retaliation and inability to control fate shaped the history of the once-prosperous kingdom.

"Knock. Knock. Knock." A knocking sound coming from a dark oak door across an elegant bedroom. Plastered on the walls are different paintings of men and women. Some are Family pictures. 

"Knock. Knock. Knock." Three more knocks came out of the door. "King Asreus, I am sorry to interrupt your sleep, but the nobles are here!" A disembodied voice of a man erupted behind the series of knocks. 

"Unf…" A disembodied grunt protrudes inside the silky white mattress, covered with a white blanket. 

"Tap. Tap. Tap." A series of knocks erupted from the door once again. "King Asreus, the nobles are waiting for you."

"Alright. Alright! I'll come out." Asreus' head pops out of the blanket, his hair ruffled, eyes half-closed, squinting. Groaning, he wipes his dry drool on his left cheek, turning his blanket over and sliding down his legs.

His sturdy, rugged, semi-muscular frame. Chest full of scars telling stories. He places his left hand on his nape, pressing it down, making a few cracks, and adjusting his neck.

 Afterward, he broadens his rough shoulders, rotating them a few times counterclockwise. "Urgh…" He groaned once more, slowly standing up.

 His blanket slid from his waist, revealing his lower figure wearing black undergarments with a seemingly noticeable bulge protruding from his underclothing.

"I'll be out in a minute," "Asreus called out. "Inform those nobles to wait for a while." 

"King Asreus, your voice seems a bit… Different?"

"...Why is that?"

"Your voice is quite deep…"

"You don't have a morning voice?"

"Well, I do. But my wife said I sound like those little critters living inside those trees." Asreus chuckled, slowly dressing himself with his white undershirt.

"That is perhaps your voice seems to be… On a higher pitched tone…"

"...Most likely."

"I will be out in a minute, Soel." Said Asreus, "I'll just finish dressing up."

"Alright, Your Majesty." Soel's footsteps walked away, the sound it leaves as every "Clank!" of its soles sunk through the floor, slowly dissipating.

Asreus sighed as he finished dressing himself. "It has been a month since she left." He thought as his face drowned with a hint of sorrow. He couldn't bear the thought of his beloved sister not being around. He slowly walks to another room. A room filled with ceramic furniture, all tainted in white. Its textures are smooth, similar to marble.

 Asreus walks toward the backrested sink. Its smooth marbled surface adds a nice feeling, with a few touches of wooden oaked planks supporting the back of the sink as it connects it to the wall. Asreus grabs a small bowl from the left side of the sink and fills it with enough water as he splashes his face clean.

 "Pff..." 

He spits off bits of water from his mouth as his head gently floats up, staring at his reflection on a metal frame's surface above the sink.  His eyes widened, noticing his white shirt semi-soaked up.

 "Gods..!" He exclaimed. "It is all soaked up now." 

He scoffed, rushing back to his bedroom as he scoured through his messy wardrobe, all stacked with used-up garments. "Ugh, I should probably ask my servants to wash them all…" He whined in defeat as he stood up, walked towards the door, turned the doorknob open, and left the room. His footsteps reverberate through the hall, occupied by the idea of his garment's wetness, unable to contain his desire to wipe it off his body. His footsteps echoing dissipates as he halted his movements, turning his body left. A silhouette of a man slowly reveals himself. 

"Greetings, Soel." Asreus's voice leaves the vents of his vocal cords, greeting Soel.

"Right this way, Your Majesty." He replied, moving his body aside, his left hand extending, showing the way, bowing. Asreus gave him a nod and slowly walked over the hall, his footsteps echoing. He takes a deep sigh, swallowing his unprecedented anxieties. After a moment of walking, he had reached his destination. A dark-oaked door leads to somewhere. Soel finally reached Asreus as he ceased his movements behind. 

"The nobles are inside, Your Majesty. You are the only one they are waiting for." Soel softly spoke. He strides his leg forward in an approach to lead the Majesty himself, slowly reaching for the doorknob, turning it over— and opening it. 

"Thank you, Soel. You may leave me be." He turns his head over to him. With a warm smile, he gives him a thanking nod, stepping inside the room. The warm light emitting from the chandelier refracts on the stone brick walls. Asreus's eyes dilated, his breath shortened, unable to stop himself from choking. The suffocating atmosphere the room emits is no match for him. Asreus's inability to handle a crowd of dazzling high nobles living in the rich's vicinity topples his complexion. 

"You look a bit on edge, Your Majesty." A disembodied elder voice erupts from Asreus' side. He turns his eyes towards the voice, noticing the occupied round table where three men sit on its left side and two on the other. Asreus slowly snaps out of his contemplation, locking eyes with the man— Sitting on the left chair is an old balding noble. His wrinkling skin and furrowed forehead, hands nestled on his long cane stationed before him, giving Asreus a warm smile. 

"It is nothing of your concern, Duke Firley." Asreus gave the Duke a warm smile, nodding.

"I see," Firley removes his gaze and turns it to the other nobles, making conversation. 

"Your lack of time consciousness cost us a mere thirty-minute discussion, Your Majesty. That is unlikely for a man who wants his desires met concisely." A voice erupts in front of Duke Firley. Asreus turns his gaze on the middle-aged man wearing glasses, his facial hair resembling a fickle of whiskers above his upper lips.

 "What do you have to say for yourself?" He uttered, delivering the words in a monotone voice. The man adjusts his spine's composure, broadening his shoulders as he rests his hand-worn gloves on the table. 

"Forgive me, Count Vient. I apologize for my unpunctual behavior. Forgive me for my tardiness." He bowed. 

"It is no matter, Your Majesty. As long as we are able to conduct this meeting, that is no longer a concern." The man beside Count Vient replied. "Please, Your Majesty. You must take a seat." 

"Have you all no manners?" The man beside Duke Firley interjected. His beard swayed in the air as he stood up—jolted. "His Majesty must take a seat before us. It is utterly contemptuous to sit— no, treacherous to sit before him!"

"By the hands of Eiysmr, Count Reylon. You are mostly right about one part of what you had just declared, but treachery!?" The man beside Count Vient replied in anger. "That is not rightfully applicable!" 

"Now, now, Count Reylon, Baron Roule. Cease yourselves. You are in the presence of his majesty." The man beside Count Reylon interjected. "Please, you both are nobility. Make peace. So we can finally proceed with this meeting's utmost purpose." 

"Thank you, Earl Herold. Please, Count Reylon. Earl Herold. It is my fault I was late. Now let us proceed." 

"Very well. The Earl replied as Reylon and Roule slowly took a seat. Asreus takes a relieving breath and circles around the round table, sitting in front of them.

"Gentlemen." Asreus greeted. "The purpose of this meeting is to clarify what happened in the past month."

"Asmodea's treachery." Count Vient stated, facing Asreus.

"Correct." Count Reylon replied, nodding.

"Princess Asmodea had committed treason. Her act of murder against Count Vient Emer II and her attempt to usurp the throne had surely dealt a massive crisis inside the walls." Asreus stated, leaning his head closer, resting his arms on the table as he clasped his hands together.

"Due to her actions, I, the Crowned King of Emeraldia, resolved to countermeasures by cutting her hands so she could no longer cast magic. In addition, Princess Asmodea is no longer a part of our nation, leading to her exile."

"We have rid an abomination that could ruin the kingdom. We are indebted to you, Your Majesty." Baron Roule remarked. 

"What about the destruction and arson she had committed? Have you not listed those crimes she had committed?" Count Firley asked.

"Since you have mentioned that, Count Firley, yes. I have." Asreus replied, scouring through the writings on the paper next to his hand lying on the table.

"Please do enlighten the table, Your Majesty."

"Ehem." Asreus cleared his throat. "According to the accounts recapped by the soldiers and eyewitnesses, the total damage she had dealt to the districts was close to maximum." 

"That is terrible news…" Count Firley said, his face in sorrow.

"Your Majesty, please disclose the affected districts."  Baron Roule asked. 

"Certainly." Asreus nodded. "It seemed that…" He slowly placed his index and thumb closer to his mouth and licked them, turning the paper's page. "The House of Emer is less affected. "

"What about the other houses?" Baron Roule asked.

"The House of Cortaeis… Hmm. Baron Roule, your district has been affected the most." Asreus replied, his eyes striking a hint of worry as he gazed back at Baron Roule.

"Sigh," He gently bows his head down, feeling disbelief.  "This is utterly terrible. My unfortunate people are suffering." He exclaimed.

"Do not fret, Baron Roule," Count Vient reassured, giving him a faint smile. "We, the Council, can help you through these tough times."

"I concur," Count Firley nodded.

"Gentlemen, I am utmost grateful for your hospitality." Baron Roule smiled, turning his head over to Asreus. "Please, Your Majesty, continue." 

"Alright." 

"The house of Firnotum is half affected. One-fourth of its districts were, unfortunately, severely destroyed with a few casualties." 

"..."

"The House of Mortor is also affected, with one-half of its districts unfortunately destroyed."

"The House of Warren, fortunately, was not affected."

"That is fortunate!" Count Reylon celebrated.

"Was Asmodea's flame magic unable to reach Warren's district?!" Count Firley asked, baffled.

"Asmodea did not leave the inner walls. Meaning she was not able to affect Earl Herold's District." Asreus replied, flipping over the papers he had been reading, leading him to a blank paper. "It appears that the report's finished." 

"Your Majesty, I would like to offer a word." Baron Roule asked.

"Now that we have finished the reports, I want to know your plans for your sister?"

"What ought you mean?" 

"She has the ability to use magic. Who knows what she ought to do if she were to come back?" 

"Your Majesty, may I interject?" Earl Herold interjected.

"Please, gentlemen. One at a time."

"Your Majesty, I must interject." Earl Herold demanded calmly.

"Alright. You may speak." Asreus scoffed.

"You have ordered to handicap your sister. Meaning, she is unable to use magic, correct?"

"It appears so."

"That is utterly ridiculous, Your Majesty. That action is incredibly dim-witted!" His vocal tone resonated around the room, prompting Count Vient to stand up. His chair slid-creaking on the floors, screeching.

"Watch your filthy tongue, Earl Herold! You are speaking with the king." Count Vient exclaimed with a resounding tone of anger, his forehead furrowed. 

"It is fine, Count Vient. Earl Herold, continue your point."

"But your majesty—" 

"It is truly fine." Asreus's piercing glare halted Count Vient, prompting him to sit back on his chair.

"Apologies." Count Vient uttered.

"My Apologies as well, Your Majesty."

"No matter. Please, continue."

"Alright." He uttered, clearing his throat.

"Your Majesty. The vital forces of magic are not just about hand-casting. It appears cutting off Asmodea's hands serves no purpose."

"I am enlightened… What ought you mean?!" Asreus's eyes widened, perplexed about what he had heard as his heart created a resounding pattern of beats.

"She may be able to cast via tongue— no,— She may even be able to cast with only her mind!" 

"That is absurd, Earl Herold. I know my sister. She is unable to cast using tongue. She does not even know how to use her moronically foolish head!

"But it could be possible, Your Majesty."

"..." 

"Earl Herold does have a point, Your Majesty." Count Firley concurred.

"I concur," Baron Roule nodded.

"It is Klavicus we are talking about, Your Majesty. He has made us into foolish men."  Count Reylon proclaimed.

"You are correct, Count Reylon," Count Vient concurred. "He had truly made us into foolish men."

"Klavicus had probably taught her how to use magic freely." Count Vient added.

"However, she can no longer enter the walls of Emeraldia," Asreus responded, eyes widening from realization.

"What ought you mean, Your Majesty?" Earl Herold asked, bewildered.

"Have you all forgotten?" Asreus asked. Their eyes all focused on him, confused. 

"On the day we exiled Asmodea, the Eternal Flame no longer considers her a part of our nation. She had become a threat to our country. Thus, she can no longer return."

"We did not know such a thing could happen, Your Majesty," Count Firley responded. "Is that one of the Eternal Flame's powers?"

"It seems to be," Asreus answered, his eyes fixated on his jittering fingers on the table. "I am still in the process of trying to understand its abilities." 

"Ah, yes. The Eternal Flame." Count Vient mentioned, gazing at the empty glass bottle next to him. 

"Eternal Flame?" Earl Herold tilts his head, questioning and confused. 

"Have you not known about its existence, Earl Herold?" Count Firley asked.

"Unfortunately, I do not. Please enlighten me." 

"He is but a young Earl from the House of Warren," Count Firley responded. "You have been sitting as Earl for three years now, have you, Earl Herold?"

"Correct, Master Firley. After Father died, I took upon the responsibility to acquire the position of the district's town master." Earl Herold responded. The door from behind them slowly opened as Soel entered the room holding a kettle. 

"Tea?" Soel asked them while holding the kettle up. Still, no one responded.

"I'd like to have tea," Asreus responded with a half-smile, sliding his hand over to grab his teacup.

"Why don't you have tea, Earl Herold?" Asreus calls out for him as Herold takes notice, averting his attention to him.

"Oh, apologies, I did not notice. Yes, of course, I'd love to." He slowly takes the teacup from his left as the other nobles continue to discuss in the background. Soel slowly starts pouring the tea into Asreus' cup.

"Thank you, Soel." 

"You are welcome, Your Majesty," Soel responded with a smile as he walked towards Herold's chair, filling his cup with tea.

"Thank you, Soel."

"You are welcome, Sir Herold." Soel walks towards the other nobles as he holds up the kettle, showing it to them. As Count Firley and Count Reylon take notice, they both shake their heads, disagreeing. Soel nods,

 turning towards Count Vient, trying to offer tea. Without turning his head to face Soel, Count Vient floats his hand above the table, palm facing forward, showing disagreement. Soel nods in response, slowly walks toward the door, and exits the room. 

"I suppose we will have to show you, Earl Herold. Don't we, Your Majesty?" Count Vient turns to Asreus with a chiseled smirk embedded on his face. 

"That'd be violating the sacred rules bestowed upon this meeting, Count Vient," Asreus responded. "However, I would gladly show Earl Herold after this meeting."

"Apologies, Your Majesty. I concur with your reason as well." Count Vient responded, clasping both hands together as he fixed his posture.

"Have you no more questions to ask, gentlemen?"

Asreus inquired, tilting his head slightly to the left as his left eyebrow raised questions.

"I believe we do not have any more questions. Don't we, gentlemen?" Count Firley responded. He places down the empty cup of tea he had previously drank and slowly stands up. 

"I concur," Baron Roule responded. "I have no more questions." He added, slowly standing up and fixing his posture.

"Gentlemen?" Asreus inquired, waiting for the men's response and inquiries. He turns his eyes towards Count Vient, shaking his head in response. Asreus nodded and turned his gaze to Count Reylon, who shook his head in response. Asreus nodded in response again, turning his gaze towards Earl Herold.

"Earl Herold, what about you?" 

"I have no inquiries, Your Majesty." He replied, smiling as he adjusted his collar. 

"All have it then," Asreus stands up and takes a deep breath. "Soel!" He called out. A few seconds pass, and Soel slowly opens the door and says, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"The minutes of the meeting, please." Asreus clasped both hands, resting the back of his hands on his solar plexus, straightening his posture.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Soel replied, grabbing a medium-sized scroll in his left pocket and unwrapping it, reading the text aloud: "On this very day, where the conclave concluded, had reached a total amount of a three-hundred-minute timeframe."

"On the contrary, the meeting had concluded three hundred minutes, Your Majesty."

 "That concludes our conclave." Asreus grabs a small wooden hammer and slams it on the table, concluding their meeting. As Count Firley and Count Vient slowly leave the room, each accompanied by guards, Baron Roule and Count Reylon stay inside the room, sitting on the chairs as they happily talk about the economic status of their districts. Asreus leads Earl Herold outside, taking the opposite direction of Count Vient and Firley's— The right corridor.

"Are you prepared to go on a little walk with me, Earl Herold?" 

"Why, yes, of course, Your Majesty. It is an honor to be walking alongside you." Herold chuckled, giving Asreus a grin as he replied. 

"It is quite a journey to get there. Considering how safeguarded it is."

"What is this… Eternal Flame that the others are talking about?"

"The marking flames."

"I can not comprehend what you mean, Your Majesty."

"Do you know the first King of Emeraldia?"

"Why yes, of course, how could I not know? He is but you great great great grandfather. The man marked by the flames." As they conversed while walking with each other, Asreus took a left turn, prompting Herold to do the same. As both men walk along the dimly lit corridors of the marbled palace, paintings of family members all hang upon the walls.

"He is but the protector of our Kingdom. The one who giveth warmth in thy darkness and winter."

"The man who had long defaced, defamed, and mortified the monsters that once lurked on the wild plains of Emeraldia. He had given us eternal warmth, shielding us from the evil that once struck our kingdom many years ago."

"And his name is..?"

"The Man Marked In Flames… The Tribunal Conqueror, The Eternal Warmth. He has many names, all different, Earl Herold."

"I see," Earl Herold responded, his eyes widening in admiration, dumbfounded. "But he must have had a real name, correct?" He inquired. Asreus takes a right turn, and so does Herold. After a few seconds of silence, Asreus stopped on an unlit corridor where a lone door lies locked.

"We have reached the dungeons. Shall we proceed?" Asreus smirked as he grabbed an unlit lamp on the wooden shelf.

"My curiosities had gotten the better of me, Your Majesty. I cannot leave without knowing!" Asreus laughed. He laughed so hard he was almost out of balance, out of air. As he takes three deep breaths, finally calming down, he turns his gaze towards Earl Herold. His eyes struck a cold, piercing gaze. 

"We have always traveled the endless plains of know-able knowledge— however, Earl Herold, we are but humans. We may not be able to voyage that far."

"That is but the true weakness of humanity, Your Majesty. But that is what makes it beautiful."

"I concur," Asreus grinned, turning over the doorknob as he opened the dark door leading to the dungeons. "Curiosity shapes us humans."

"Your Majesty," Herold interrupted, prompting Asreus to cease his footsteps. 

"What is it, Earl Herold?"

"You have never told me the actual name of The Man Marked in Flames?" Asreus chuckled, turning his body to face Earl Herold. With one confident smirk, he uttered the words:

"His name was Eiysmr. The man covered in flames."

CHAPTER, END.