The Regals

There are six bloodlines that had a say in what should happen and what should not happen on the planet of the Melynxs — The Regals.

The regals could be seen as the six royal bloodlines of the Melynxs, and right now, a meeting which included all of them was taking place.

The regals had a say in the things that happened but they didn't have the final say. The one with the overall power to make decisions concerning the Melynx race, is the person they all called The Master.

The Master ruled over the Melynxs but to ensure he/she could not rule however he/she saw wanted, the six chiefs of the regals could make a unanimous decision in times of emergencies, that surpassed even the Master's authority.

Sitting around a large circular stone in what seemed to be a garden, weird when using human standards to compare, the five present chiefs of the regals were dressed in robes of pure white colour.

The flowers in the garden were also pure white in colour, not stained by a single dirt. One could tell that even the air in the garden was cleaner, fresher and purer than the air in any other parts of the planet.

"He is not here yet." said a man with a bald head and an extremely long and thin black beard, which was drooping to his waist level. He was already in his seventies but he still had the appearance of a forty-something year old human, except for the difference in the levels of handsomeness.

The Melynxs were far too good-looking to be compared with the humans. Their skin was smooth and clear and each one of them looked as fantastically tempting as a demon or the devil himself.

Though just like in all things, some still had better looks than others and they did not hesitate to always make it known.

"We all can see that Malum." another man said to the bald-headed man. "The hair on our head does not impair our sight in any way."

"Of course Yashol." Malum said. "But I am sure the pride that fills you up is enough to impair all your senses at once."

"Calm down already, you geezers." Lumian said as he stepped into the garden and shut the door behind him. Standing out like a sore thumb due to him putting on a blue overcoat while the others were wearing white robes. "Here I was thinking the meeting had already begun."

"Watch your mouth boy." Yashol said. "I have at least thirty years on you."

"That is why I called you a geezer."

"The Master..."

"Is now present." said a voice from the door. The Master was a man with grey hair visible in some places on his head and a slightly bent posture, which showed just how old he was. He was nearing his hundredth year alive and soon, a new Master will be chosen from the six regals in front of him.

Xendor, Dragomir, Vashkov, Jynutr, Zor' al and Illiad: together, are the six regal bloodlines of Derelis and a new Master will be gotten from one of the bloodlines.

Rising from their seats, the six chiefs gave a slight bow as the Master walked round the stone circle and sat on his designated chair, which looked like a throne made out of solid white energy, and was far bigger than the other chairs around the stone circle.

"Be seated." the Master said after sitting, his voice still projecting strength even at his old age. "Let us go straight to the matter at hand. First, the Xendors living among the humans. What is the status? Are they joining us or have they sided with those pitiful creatures who call themselves humans?"

"Pardon me Master." Yashol spoke. "Is the boy not required to wear the white robes just like we are?"

"What boy Yashol?" the Master asked.

"Lumian, Master." Yashol replied.

"Lumian." the Master said.

"Yes father." Lumian answered, with a sly grin on his face. "Excuse me. Yes Master."

"The white robes are an important aspect of these meetings. I expect to see you in them next time a meeting takes place. Is that understood?"

"Yes father. Sorry, Master." Lumian replied.

"If that is all the distractions we will be having, someone should give me some information about the Xendors. Who is in charge of handling the situation?"

"I am Master." Lumian said. "Whether they will be joining us or not is unknown at this point, but one of them, the older son, has acquired magic."

"What type of magic?" Trea, chief of the Dragomir bloodline, asked. She was not as old as the other chiefs and was around the same age as Lumian: nearing forty but having the outlook of a woman in her early thirties. Her beauty unmatched by no one on the planet, except by Kalvrie.

"I was getting there." Lumian said. "He acquired magic mimicry. And," he said, above the gasps of the others, "right now he can mimic two magical abilities."

After a moment of silence in which they all thought over the information they had just heard, the Master spoke up.

"That, can be good news, and can be bad news. If they choose to join us, magic like that will be very useful."

"Not to mention when added with his abilities as a Melynx." Trea said.

"But if he is not on our side," Yashol said, "he will need to be dealt with. Withstanding the fact that he is a Xendor."

"Yashol is right." Fardal said, the chief of the Vashkov bloodline.

"We will not be too hasty." said the Master. "And are there not two brothers? What about the other one?"

"I am yet to obtain any valuable information about him." Lumian said.

"And why is that?" the Master asked.

"Because my subordinate, hardworking girl by the way, failed to get it for me." Lumian explained.

"That is your definition of hardworking?" Yashol asked. "Failure?"

"Cut the girl some slack." Gaya, the chief of the Illiad bloodline, said. "People make mistakes."

"Not one as important as this." Fardal said.

"Enough. Bickering, will get us nowhere. Lumian."

"Yes Master." Lumian answered.

"You should have the information before it is time for our next meeting."

"Certainly Master." Lumian said.

"We will discuss the matter of my hundredth year and my successor, at a later time. You are all dismissed."

With that, the meeting came to an end and everyone waited until the Master and his guards left before they got up to leave.

After leaving the garden when the meeting concluded, Lumian headed straight to the large castle sitting in the middle of a walled compound, tens of acres large.

Walking past the number of guards patrolling inside the compound, Lumian went into the castle and also walked past the guards in there, heading to the Master in his private chamber.

"Father." Lumian called out.

"What is it?" the Master asked.

"I'm here to talk about the person who will succeed you." Lumian said. "The next master."