There was a big gathering hall where Lords and Ladies assembled. There
were levels of tables, where each person sat and their bodyguards stood
behind them. Power was demonstrated by the amount of guards. Dorania
Kirilian only had the company of Manar, while many had 2, 4, or even 8
guards. One powerful Lord had 14 guards for himself. The main elderly
body of the Vilkon family had 36 guards altogether. These guards stood
in uniform positions; where there were many, they stood in lines.
The hall itself had white-washed walls, however the
light produced by the large chandelier in the middle of the ceiling was
not sufficient to melt away the surrounding shadows, where the guards
quietly stood. Most of the light fell to the stone floor. The four
elders of the Vilkons sat on chairs behind a long table. They had the
privilege to face forward. They sat on the upper of the two tiers table
that had this privilege. On the lower tier sat a Lord and Lady of
another powerful family, then an empty chair, then the curious Lord who
had 14 guards. On the sides there were three tiers of flawless wooden
tables. The top tier had desks all joined to one another, however they
were separated by further carpentry to nestle the family elder inside
within a wooden booth. Their bodyguards visibly hid in the shadows
behind. The other two tiers had desks, which would have been part of a
single, long table if not for the wooden brackets between each person.
These brackets rose towards the seated.
Kiyor’s grandmother stood up. “Your
attention please,” she called through the thin mist of quiet
voices and whispers. “We thank you all for coming during this
dire moment. Before we proceed, you can ask any questions now.”
“Will we be settling the plight of the
Brendant Territory?” a man called out. Many of the bodyguards
smirked at this.
“That is not the issue for tonight,” called out the dark-skinned Vilkon elder.
Kiyor’s grandmother sat down and her husband
stood up. “My Lords and Ladies, I introduce you to Grand
Mellarus, Head Warlock of the Sorcerer’s Guild.”
In walked a man wearing a purple cape over his black
suit. His black hair was short and gelled back. His black eyebrows
seemed painted on. He sat down on a chair on the platform below, but
not directly below the chandelier. The host continued talking.
“He is here to explain the purpose of the amulet used to trace Miss Rowan Kirilian.” He sat down.
Mellarus spoke. “For 2 nights, I worked with
the best Sorcerers to discover all the spells on the amulet. The tracer
spell used on it was to find a young, virgin female. The indicator
spell caused the amulet to glow when it found a pure Light
Citizen.”
Stares focussed on Dorania, who sat on the lowest
tier and furthest away from the Vilkons. Their eyes revealed faint
feelings of suspicion, curiosity, or perhaps both. Even Manar was
watching her. A Lady broke the silence.
“Do you know what they will do to Rowan?”
“Most likely for sacrifice,” Mellarus
answered. “However, sacrifices can generate several spells. We do
not know which one the spell-casters in question wish to cast.”
“Do you have any idea who these people could be?” someone else asked.
“There is no clue.”
“Are you certain that is all the information
you have?” Kiyor’s grandmother once more asked.
“Very certain my Lady,” Canstarta answered in finality.
She looked around. “Well then, I dismiss-”
“Before these proceedings are dismissed, I
have an announcement to make!” interrupted Dorania’s sharp
voice. “In 3 nights, at the Twilight Hall, I will be holding a
Ball.” The Lords and Ladies glanced at each other in interest.
“I realised that there has not been one for many decades, which
is why this one will be extra eventful. Everyone is welcome.”
Lady Kirilian passed a look of contempt to the Vilkons.
Manar and her employer were sitting in a grand car, driven home. Dorania seemed tense and impatient.
“You should learn to let go of your anxiety Mistress,” stated the head bodyguard.
“That was rather impulsive of you,” stated her master.
“I ask for your forgiveness,” Manar automatically responded.
“Granted.” Dorania gave her bodyguard a
long, cold, hard stare. Manar never noticed. “You’re
wondering the same thing aren’t you? Why my daughter is a pure
Light Citizen.”
“One cannot help but be curious.”
… “No; one cannot.”
And so, they sat like statues for the remainder of the journey.