The Great Hall, although massive, was used only for Council meetings. Its décor, like many aspects of the Realm, had arguably seen better days. The abraded concrete walls and blotched flooring seemed the perfect setting for the battles that were discussed within its enclosure. And evidenced by the decolorized blood in many areas, the Great Hall had been host not only to battle “discussions.”
As King Maebus entered with Grand Wizard Kelm, the Council stood both out of tradition and out of respect for a person who, not six days earlier, had accepted the certainty of facing the Warlord Damian. The abandonment of former King Theodo was made even starker by Maebus’ dutiful acceptance of the crown. For surely with the impending conquest, there was nothing to gain by becoming King. None of those in attendance had been willing to do so.
Maebus scanned the faces of those before him as he moved towards the Council table. The Council itself was composed of a relatively small number of dignitaries: three administrators of policy, three administrators of military, and three Wizards who were administrators of magic—all of whom had equal standing on the Council.
They watched in rapt silence as Maebus approached the elongated, semi-circular table in the middle of the chamber. By their stony expressions, he could only imagine that none of them envied him. Easing into the center throne for the first time, its back ramrod straight, Maebus’ stomach wrenched as if absorbing the pressures of all who commanded the kingdom before him. He then rested his hands upon the table’s stone surface.
Maebus’ gaze quickly found the hawkish stare of Councilman Jawn, an administrator of policy. He whispered something to Councilwoman Landi who stood beside him. Maebus caught the smug twisting of Jawn’s lips, reading the word, “fool.”
A hissed “Ssssh!” flew from Landi’s mouth, silencing him. For that, Maebus was grateful. He had always been fond of her.
From both sides of the chamber, the doors thundered closed as Grand Wizard Kelm sealed the Great Hall. “Please be seated,” he ordered. As he stepped swiftly towards the Council table, the only sound in the room was the rustling of his robes.
Maebus silently observed the Council as Kelm stood slightly to his right-hand side. Kelm’s mother Kyora, now retired, held the position of Realmsic Advisor for thirty-two years. Only recently did she step down so her son could assume the role. Her single piece of advice to him: Wear comfortable shoes. Maebus quickly glanced down at Kelm’s firm leather boots that wrapped his ankles and calves in buffed cowhide. His mother would be proud.
The full committee took its seats around the circular side of the table. Commander Khroy, who represented the Realmsic Army’s Joint Officers Corps, nodded his greeting at Maebus when their eyes finally met. The two had first become acquainted many years ago while they both studied military strategem. Over the years they’d become good friends. Although not yet a Council member, Maebus had specifically invited Khroy. The Commander was a decorated military officer who so far had been an integral part of his plan. Khroy was a muscular-bodied soldier with olive-colored skin that was clean-shaven, like most officers.
As the Great Hall settled again into silence, King Maebus took one last precious moment to collect his thoughts.
“Realmsic Council,” he projected, “my brothers and sisters in crisis. For two thousand years, the Realm—our home—has fought an endless war to defend against countless conquerors and those hostile towards our magical culture.
“Because we’re the only kingdom where magic exists, I daresay war is to be expected. Some would even argue that it’s the price we must continually pay for the gift of our precious Realmsic Crystal.
“Given to us by the primordial First Wizards, the crystal is the source of all magic within our Realm. In the wrong hands, its limitless power would be disastrous not only to us, but to the entire known world. Therefore, defending the crystal means preserving our culture. From what our kingdom has endured, we are strong. I have no doubt that we will shine through the darkness now looming before us.”
A man suddenly rose to his feet. “King, Advisor. Has there been any additional intelligence regarding this Warlord Damian?”
Kelm nodded. “Yes, Councilman Sheld. From information we’ve obtained through the efforts of Commander Khroy, we’ve learned that Damian is the son of a defeated conqueror, Ramsus Bane. Many of you are unfamiliar with this name, as so few remain from the time he challenged our kingdom. Although he perished during his conquest, Ramsus Bane came closest to capturing the Realm than anyone ever has. The remnants of his message have seeded teams of new supporters in the generation that followed his demise.”
“So the Warlord is simply looking to avenge his father?” asked Councilman Sheld.
“Or perhaps looking to finish the job his father started,” laughed a voice from the far end of the table.
“Do not speak lightly, Councilman Jawn!” Kelm snapped.
Maebus raised his hands to reclaim order. “Men such as Damian aren’t usually motivated by vengeance alone,” he explained. “He possesses an obsessive and charismatic mind. By first uniting with those sympathetic to his father’s cause, he inspired a following. Then, using the wealth obtained from his father’s conquests, he visited the most ravaged lands of the region and provided support to those battered by constant war. In return for their continued support, he promised them riches beyond imagination.”
“Those who despise the Realm are immersed in longstanding, deep-seated hatred,” Kelm added. “Who among them would turn down such an offer from the son of Ramsus Bane?”
A torrent of murmurings surged through the Great Hall. Maebus sighed, wishing Kelm hadn’t said that.
Another Council member stood from his seat to be recognized. “Advisor, what do we know of the Warlord’s military campaign?”
Commander Khroy rose to his feet. “Councilman Ferst, I can answer that. Damian began his military conquest by attacking the nation of Feesa, located on our northwestern border. Prior to his attack, he studied their history. He knew their tactics as if they were his own. At each moment of the battle, the Warlord remained two steps ahead of their military. With his Legion, he outflanked the nation’s army. With his magic, he crushed them. After his dominating victory, Damian then attacked the nation’s civilians.”
An older woman stood from her seat. “He’s ruthless and merciless!” Councilwoman Elva proclaimed. Maebus could hear the pain in her voice. “I’ve traveled to what remains of Feesa. Once a neutral safe haven from the wars, it now lies in ruin by the hands of that monster. Not one soul was spared!”
“This is true,” Khroy continued. “Damian is a master of both military and magic. He’s learned from the mistakes of his father, and even of those who challenged the kingdom before Ramsus Bane. Using history as a weapon, he has defeated many of the mighty cities in the eastern, southern, and western lands, proving to his followers that he can do what so many others have not. He can win.”
As Commander Khroy retook his seat, Councilman Greeve, an administrator of military, stood to address the Hall. “King, Council. I’ve fought many battles, and can attest that these conquerors are all the same. They simply want our crystal. So I say fine. If they want it, then let them have it, and get blasted by it!”
Several people applauded and cheered. Maebus, however, shook his head, resisting the urge to sigh. Greeve, being a former infantry soldier, had climbed the ranks to Council. Thin, gray, and somewhat elderly, he still possessed a fire within his belly, which oftentimes made him gregarious and rather reckless.
“No, no, no. I’ve told you all before. The Warlord is different,” Maebus exclaimed.
“Also, what you suggest isn’t advisable,” Kelm added. “Throughout Realmsic history, weaponizing the crystal has repeatedly proven to be unstable. It’s over two thousand years old, and we know nothing of its full power. So let us not be ignorant! Utilizing the crystal as a weapon to destroy our enemies may ultimately destroy us.”
Maebus watched as Councilwoman Landi rose to her feet. He trie
d to suppress his smile. Landi was the youngest female on the Council but had already excelled as an administrator of magic. He lost himself in her dark, curly, shoulder-length hair and soft facial features. Her slender frame was as strong as her mind, which rarely conformed to the formalities of the Council. Her outfit was a long, lavender sundress instead of the standard olive-green uniforms and burgundy capes the other Council members wore.
Maebus had always admired her ambition and beauty. She too had once seemed receptive to his subtle advances. But now being King eliminated any chance of a romance they could have had. Often, he thought about their dynamic. She was a Magical, and he was a Layman. If the emotions they felt for one another were real, could not the two Realmsic cultures one day learn to love each other also?
Focus Maebus! He mentally scolded himself for drifting again.
“King, Advisor,” Landi began, “What are we to do? What can we do to protect ourselves from the Warlord and his Legion of Warriors?”
Maebus understood her concern, though he could only imagine the feeling he, too, would have sitting as a Council member, listening to what appeared to be certain death. Therefore, he carefully chose his words before speaking.
“Even as we’re gathered here, word from the Western Nations has confirmed that the Legion marches towards us, destroying everything in their path. They’re coming here to destroy us. To me, the answer to your question is simple. We must fight.”
“But this is a battle we will not win!” Councilman Jawn interrupted. “Why do we fight? Why do you commit us to suicide?”
Maebus resisted the urge to yell; resisted the urge to grab Jawn by his scrawny neck until his weasel face turned blue. Instead, he abruptly rose to his feet.
“Are we to run like King Theodo? Are we to abandon our kingdom during its greatest conflict to date? Look!” Maebus demanded, pointing to a massive map that draped the wall of the Great Hall.
“This is our home. We’re all that stands between it, the Warlord, and absolute domination. So why do we fight? Because we don’t have the luxury of a choice!”
Maebus heard his last word reverberate through the chamber. Councilman Jawn sat heavily, obviously deflated.
“Now,” Maebus continued, retaking his seat. “What I’m about to disclose to you may seem extremely unorthodox. But time is against us. Therefore, this new strategy Kelm and I are proposing may provide our best chance for surviving what’s to come.
“The words spoken in this room today have set in motion a series of events from which there’s no turning back. Upon retiring to your personal chambers, each of you will find a sealed message addressed only to you. This message will contain written instructions. You are to follow these instructions to the letter. Under no circumstances are you to share the contents of your personal message with others.”
Maebus fell silent while assessing the reaction of each Council member. After a split second of stunned silence, the chamber erupted into a tumult of raised voices. Maebus and Kelm exchanged frustrated glances, which conveyed comprehension that they must not back down.
For the next hour, Maebus fielded the Council’s barrage of questions, addressing their concerns. Without compromising his agenda, he answered as thoroughly as he could until the room had settled into some semblance of order.
“This is a most troublesome time,” Maebus stated, “perhaps the most dangerous in all of our history. I know what I’m asking of you is unusual. But I sincerely thank you for your understanding, and your trust. Know that what I will share with each of you individually is all that I can share with you. The rest will eventually come. We each have a role in an unfortunate play, and now we must perform. May we trust in each other for guidance, and may the First Wizards bless our souls.”
As Maebus stood from his throne, the Realmsic Council rose as one. With a wave of his hands, Kelm unsealed the double doors of the Great Hall, which swung open with a low grinding moan. The Council formed two rows and filed out of the chamber. Maebus stole one last glance at Landi, who conveyed her affection with a subtle smile. Behind her trudged Commander Khroy.
“Commander,” Maebus said, “a word with you.”
The officer immediately pulled himself from the precession and stood off to the side. After the last Council members exited the chamber, Maebus signaled for Kelm to reseal the doors, and the three took their seats once again.
Chapter Four