The following evening, the council gathers in their chambers. Signs of the battle scar the room, and a faint smell of deathly decay lingers.
Within the center of the space, the seven necromancers are seated around their ornate table; Alacor sits at their head upon an elaborate seat resembling a throne while the other six are seated in less pretentious chairs.
Having his own agenda, Iltar quietly sits at the right side of the table, between Velkor and Kallan. He intently listens to the conversation between the aforementioned council members and Melnor and Toroth.
“As we saw with this latest batch of students,” Toroth speaks up from Alacor’s immediate left, “One of the most prominent flaws was their overzealous thirst for knowledge.”
“That’s true,” Velkor replies methodically from Iltar’s left. “This hunger led them to discover aspects of our magical discipline that should have been reserved for later instruction.”
“I believe it was their age that played a major factor,” Kallan speaks up, who is seated on Iltar’s right. “The majority of them were all young adults or adolescences. And they already had a privileged attitude about them that inhibited our control.”
“I agree, we took on too many of these students, and all because we were too eager to fill our ranks. And now we are right where we started.” Melnor completes the argument from the far side of the table.
“Are there any suggestions from the body as to what our next step should be?” Alacor asks, looking at each of the other necromancers around the table.
Clearing his throat, Iltar leans forward and boldly interjects, “My brothers, I believe we should exercise some restraint in rebuilding our Order. Soroth lacks in the breed of children we need. I don’t just mean children of age, but those willing to be called children of necromancy.
Iltar carefully chooses his next words, knowing he must make the council feel that they’re in control of the coming decision. “Remember, this is a very large world and there are other places where we can look to find new apprentices and acolytes. I believe our approach should be slow and meticulous, just as the spider catches the fly in her web. Does she leap at her prey? No, she gently glides toward her victim and wraps them up carefully. We must catch our new recruits in a similar fashion.
“Now I put forth a question that might give us a solution: How old were we when we became a part of this Order?”
Intrigued, Melnor speaks up, “We were still children, some of us orphans.” Several of them nod at the answer catching Iltar’s false vision.
“Iltar is right,” Alacor interjects. “We need the kind of students that we can manipulate, and young adults do not qualify for such privileges. Are there any other suggestions to be brought before the council?”
The council members glance around the table; they each shake their head, satisfied with the recommended action.
“Then a vote must be taken,” the grandmaster commands. “Since Iltar has proposed this, I say we allow him to lead an expedition to find new apprentices. We shall give you full jurisdiction over the proceedings of your doings, and access to the treasury. We give you one week to devise a course of action. Those in favor signify it.”
In a unanimous motion, the members of the council extend their right hands directly out in front of them, acknowledging their approval for the action. Iltar smiles to himself, careful to keep his pleased satisfaction from showing on his face.
“It is decided,” Alacor rises from his chair. “We shall convene in one week.”
With that said, each of the other six necromancers stand and bow to each other before leaving the room.