The Weight of Ruling

As the sun rises in the kingdom of Anir, King Elian prepares himself for a day filled with the weighty matters of the court. Despite the daunting schedule, he finds comfort in the presence of the council of Miriel, a group of esteemed elders renowned for their wisdom and knowledge. Miriel is the elven word for six.

Entering the grand hall, King Elian's eyes are drawn to the six figures seated around the ornate table, their silhouettes highlighted by the rich hues of forest green and gold. Rising in unison, they greet him with reverence.

"Your Majesty," Maya's frail voice breaks the silence. Standing beside her are Dew and Nani, the other two female members of the council.

"My King," Ronan acknowledges with a nod, his aged frame supported by a sturdy cane. Among the male councilors, he is the eldest, accompanied by Moe and Zucchini.

"Please, be seated," King Elian urges with a warm smile, taking his place at the head of the table. "There is no need for such formality among friends. How was your visit to Heartwood? I trust the Queen is in good spirits?"

Zucchini clears his throat before responding to the King's inquiry about their visit to Heartwood. "Your Majesty, the Queen is indeed well. Her grace and wisdom continue to guide us."

Satisfied with the assurance of the Queen's well-being, King Elian turns his attention to Maya. "And what did the queen want, Maya?"

Maya meets the King's gaze. "Your Majesty, Queen Aeloria simply desired our company."

A flicker of curiosity crosses King Elian's features. "Company? Surely she could have summoned me."

A brief silence settles over the hall as each council member contemplates the Queen's request. Why had she chosen to seek their company and not that of the King?

Moe breaks the thoughtful silence. “I’m sure the Queen misses you, Your Majesty and she can't wait for the Winter Solstice to grace us with her presence.”

King Elian nods. “Thank you Moe for the gentle reminder. I just can't wait for the Winter Solstice and every other festival.”

“We heard about the werewolf attack and how swiftly our forces dealt with them,” Ronan says, changing the topic to more pressing issues. “And we learned that the chosen one has been found.”

King Elian's expression softens, accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Yes, we stumbled upon the chosen one. Apparently he died and was resurrected by the great green flames. He's currently at the temple with the High Priestess."

"Does that mean he's taken the potion of transition?" Nani wonders aloud.

"Yes, indeed," King Elian replies.

“Your Majesty, no offense but that was too soon," Dew expresses her skepticism with alarm. “Do you think he can be trusted?”

"Well, the boy suffered a great betrayal from Sandro, who killed his parents and pinned it on elves, so yes, I believe we can trust him," King Elian replies, his tone tinged with empathy.

Maya, her brow furrowed with concern, adds, "But what of his powers? Are they fully awakened?"

King Elian's gaze turns contemplative. "He has transitioned, but he still doesn't have mastery over them yet.”

The door swings open revealing Commander Jorah in his full army regalia. He makes his way to the table with heavy footfalls. He bows curtly to the king before taking a seat at the table.

“Your Majesty, highly esteemed Elders,” Commander Jorah begins, his voice carrying a grave urgency, “it has come to my attention that the faceless have returned.”

King Elian's brows furrow in concern, mirroring the apprehension reflected in the eyes of the council members. The mention of the faceless, a great threat that had plagued the world in the past, sends a chill through the air.

“How many incidents have been reported?” King Elian inquires, his voice tinged with concern.

“Several, Your Majesty,” Commander Jorah responds, his tone clipped. “They've been targeting surrounding villages, leaving chaos and fear in their wake. I think the faceless are responsible for my missing men.”

A hushed murmur sweeps through the hall, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on everyone.

“This is bad,” King Elian says.

“Bad? Bad is an understatement,” Maya interjects, her voice faltering towards the end. “There's nothing worse than the faceless.”

“Yes, Lady Maya speaks the truth,” Zucchini asserts. “Commander, you misunderstand. The faceless don't take people, they kill them in the most horrifying way. And more importantly, they don't stop killing until they've eradicated every last soul.”

“Are you sure it's not something else that attacked the villages?” Dew asks.

“I'm a hundred percent sure,” Commander Jorah replies with a stern look.

Just as tension fills the air, the door swings open, interrupting the court. High Priestess Sheila enters, and Commander Jorah's demeanor softens at the sight of her. His senses tingle as usual as she draws nearer. He looks at the empty sit beside him and can't stop his anticipation from growing.

“Your Majesty—” Sheila begins.

“Please, say no more. I've had enough courtesy,” King Elian cuts in before Sheila can finish, his tone sharp with frustration.

Sheila nods in understanding, turning her attention to Commander Jorah as she remains standing. “Your Majesty, Commander Jorah, I've located the seven scouts who went missing two nights ago. They were ambushed and abducted by a pack of rogue werewolves who demand the power of transition in exchange for their release.”

“Then let's make the trade,” Commander Jorah responds swiftly. “Since the potion now resides within that wolf, I propose we offer him in exchange. Seven elves for one werewolf.”

Sheila grimaces. “Not just any werewolf, Commander. You're suggesting we hand over a Lycan. No, not that. You're proposing we trade our salvation for the lives of your men?”

“The Priestess is right, Commander Jorah,” King Elian interjects firmly. “We cannot give them Luca.”

“My King, this potion has brought nothing but trouble. Constant attacks on our lands, abductions of our people. When does it end? Up until now, nobody could access it, not even the Queen. But now that it's out of our hands, you want us to continue to protect it, to invite more trouble to our doorstep.”

King Elian's eyes brim with anger as he rises, striking the table with both hands.

"Know your place, Commander," King Elian thunders, his voice resonating with authority. It's a rare sight to witness the typically affable King lose his composure.

Commander Jorah's expression tightens at the rebuke, his jaw clenched in response to the King's sharp words.

“Your Majesty,” Maya interjects softly. “Forgive the Commander. He's not entirely out of line in his reasoning. But Commander, the King is right in my opinion. Is there anyone else who shares the Commander's perspective?”

Commander Jorah's gaze shifts around the table, meeting the eyes of the council members. There's a moment of silence as each one deliberates, weighing the gravity of the situation.

Finally, Dew speaks up hesitantly. “I... I understand the Commander's concerns. And I share his perspective.”

Nani nods in agreement. “I concur. Perhaps it's time for us to give up the potion. There can only be one Lycan, and I don't see how much harm one Lycan can cause.”

“Let's put it to a vote,” Maya suggests. “All who favor the Commandershould please speak up without fear.”