In the Hall of Power

Almera materialized in a grand hall adorned with marble columns and sumptuous frescoes. It was a large ceremonial hall, bathed in a soft, golden light coming from tall stained-glass windows that dotted the walls. The walls of the hall were covered with dark wooden panels finely carved with floral motifs. Between these panels, black marble columns rose, adding a note of grandeur and solidity. Velvet draperies embroidered with gold threads hung between the columns, adding a touch of richness and warmth to the ensemble.

The floor was paved with black and white marble tiles arranged in a checkerboard pattern, shining under the light diffused by the stained glass. In the center of the room, a large Persian rug, richly decorated with geometric and floral motifs, brought a touch of color and comfort. The ceiling itself was a work of art, painted with frescoes depicting starry skies.

In front of her, half a dozen guards in golden armor stood up straight, their spears crossed. Recognizing the imposing figure of Almera immediately, they quickly lowered their weapons and bowed deeply.

"Matron Almera," announced one of the guards in a respectful voice, "we have been expecting you."

She ignored them with a wave of her hand, her sharp gaze sweeping the room before settling on a young soldier who seemed less experienced than the others.

"You, accompany me to the council chamber," she ordered. "And give me the names of the matron mothers already present."

The young guard, taken aback, nodded hastily and took the lead. "Of course, Mother Matron. Negestat is already present, as well as Matron Ysora and Matron Neralda."

Almera nodded silently, her mind quickly assessing the situation.

They walked through several corridors, their steps echoing softly on the marble tiles. The walls were decorated with tapestries. Almera walked with a determined step, her black silk dress floating elegantly behind her.

"Are there any news from Damaris?" she asked abruptly.

The guard hesitated, her eyes searching for the right words. "I... uh..." she stammered, avoiding Almera's piercing gaze.

The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable.

Almera, her growing impatience, abruptly stopped and turned toward the guard. Her icy gaze pierced through her. "Answer," she ordered in a sharp voice. "What news of Damaris?"

The young soldier swallowed with difficulty, her cheeks paling under the pressure. "Mother Matron, calling her that..." she finally said, her voice trembling.

Almera frowned. "How dare you hesitate, you little fool? Do you have a problem with the way I refer to a traitor? Or are you her accomplice?"

The young guard began to tremble, shaking her head frantically. "No, Mother Matron, I would never dare..."

Almera let out an exasperated sigh but merely nodded. "No matter," she said firmly. "Take me to the council chamber without further delay."

The young guard nodded, relieved, and resumed walking, guiding Almera through the sumptuous corridors of the palace.

They continued their brisk walk through the richly decorated hallways, the walls echoing with the sound of their steps. When they finally reached the grand door of the council chamber, the guard stopped and bowed deeply. "Mother Matron, we have arrived."

Almera adjusted her robe slightly, then took a deep breath before nodding to the young soldier.

The guard pushed the door open and bowed at a right angle, letting the Mother Matron pass through to enter the room.

It was a vast circular room, imbued with grandeur and majesty. The walls were adorned with murals.

In the center of the room was a large oval table made of ebony wood, polished to a shine. Runes and ancient symbols were engraved on it, forming a complex pattern that seemed to pulse slightly with magical energy. Around this table, sumptuously cushioned seats awaited their owners, each adorned with gold and silk embroidery.

Crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling diffused a soft, ambient light, illuminating the room with a warm and soothing glow. White marble columns rose to the vaulted ceiling, adding to the impression of grandeur and solidity of the room. Richly colored tapestries hung between the columns.

The present members were women of imposing stature, each wearing sumptuous clothes that reflected their power and influence.

As she entered, they looked up at her, their expressions varying.

Mervyln, seated on the higher chair, welcomed her.

"Matron Almera," she said in a calm voice, "thank you for answering the call."

Almera stepped forward and bowed respectfully before Lady Mervyln, her black silk robe brushing the marble floor. "Negestat," she responded with measured deference, "It is only natural to promptly respond to your call."

"Matron Almera, may I ask whom you are calling Negestat?"

The voice belonged to one of the two matrons present. She was an older woman with a gentle face but sharp eyes, wearing a deep emerald green outfit adorned with white pearls.

Almera turned slowly, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on the woman who had spoken. Her face hardened, her eyes narrowing into slits of steel.

"Matron Ysora," she replied in a voice as cold and sharp as ice, "it seems you have lost your memory lately. Or perhaps it is cataracts affecting your judgment?"

Ysora smiled slightly, a benevolent expression that contrasted with the severe lines of her face.

"Matron Almera," she said in an icy voice, "I suggest you choose your words carefully. The Negestat is the queen of this realm, and as far as I know, there has been no coronation yet."

Almera met Ysora's gaze, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"You are right, Matron Ysora. There has been no coronation yet, but it is undeniable that Lady Mervyln already possesses the necessary authority."

"Matron Almera and Matron Ysora," a sharp voice interjected, "I suggest you not test my patience. We are here to discuss a serious issue, not to squabble over titles."

The speaker was the last woman present who had not yet spoken. She wore a stern black robe accented with silver accessories. Her severe features and rigid posture made her impressive.

Almera and Ysora looked at each other for a moment, their eyes shining with contained hostility. Then, they turned their gazes toward the voice that had intervened.

Mervyln, seated on her imposing chair at the center of the table, observed the scene with calm impassivity.

"Matron Neralda is right," she said in a gentle but firm voice. "We are here to discuss an urgent issue, not to engage in power games."

Almera stared at the woman named Neralda for a moment, then softened her expression and turned to Mervyln, the inclination of her head expressing measured respect.

"Forgive my impudence. We are here to discuss the escape of Damaris Zahad. This is a time for unity, not quarrels. I am eager to hear from you..." She cast a quick glance at Ysora and added, "my Negestat."

Ysora's brow furrowed, but she kept her mouth shut, feigning ignorance.

Lady Mervyln slowly nodded, a grave expression on her face.

"Take your seat, Matron Almera. Your zeal is appreciated, but let us wait for the others to arrive first."

With that, Almera took her assigned seat, and the present members waited. Eight Mother Matrons were still absent.