Guards lined the length of the glistening golden hall, each holding a weapon, from war axes and greatswords to pouches of Tox balls and Poisonous needles. Their faces mangled and scarred from great battles, others handsome and gleaming from superior skill.
They all stood at attention as her steps echoed the hall, her deep crimson hair met the golden edges of her cloak as she walked like a sunrise towards an ancient door, its edges charred but it hummed with power. Like metal on metal, power on power, Asha’s hands met and pushed open the chamber doors.
He exhaled lazily before speaking.
“A knock would do you some good.” A disdainful voice came from above. He laid back on an arm of the throne, his feet kicked up and crossed over the edge of the marble sill of the Tribunal.
“Bite your tongue off, Marros. You may prolong your life.” Responded a voice across the room, a rugged, weathered man held his hand over his heart as he gave a deep bow to Asha. “My liege.”
“Thank you, Oro.” Asha gave the man a nod then scanned the room above her.
She took in the Tribunal, her gaze flicking over the seven thrones of glossy black stone carved into the mountain itself, each cushioned with soft down. Marros kicked back comfortably, with little care for decorum. Oro sat straight, a result of years of service to the crown. Between them five more seats.
Rahni, the dreamer, dozed on her throne. Balkos, the deft, looked around the room; he had never so much as looked Asha in the eyes. Hirr, the opulent, wore a suit of dragon hide, rarer material you could not find. Xixvis, the patient, watched Asha without blinking, tracking every flick of her fingers, every curl of her lips. Their faces were clean, unmarked, not royal. Except.
At the center of the chamber sat the one she knew would respond. A royal too proud for a representative.
Shokro, the vast, sat old and regal in his ebony battle armor. A shimmering line was drawn across the bridge of his nose like a faded scar. “The moons have hardly risen, I hope all is well?”
“Demands mean nothing to royals it seems.” Asha remarked as she locked eyes with the old royal.
“You walked away from your place among us. Maybe it’s time you learned some humility.” Marros spoke, cutting a sideways glance down towards her.
“Might I remind the representative that I have the greater task of mediating your summits. My position is not the issue here. And I welcome you to humble me anytime representative.” Her eyes shot daggers at Marros who scoffed at her words.
“Skip the rigamarole…” Rahni stretched her weary body and pulled her legs onto the throne. “It hardly matters if they’re here or not. Bring action or bring peace, why are you here?”
“I need a guarantee from the crowns.” Asha locked eyes with Shokro.
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“You took my daughter. I owe you nothing.” Shokro’s face contorted by the insolence.
“You owe her everything.” She whispered, it filled the room as the representatives took in their exchange.
Shokro closed his eyes, his hands held together. “What could you know about what I’ve given for her?” He sighed. “Is she well?”
“I need a Guarantee.” Asha demanded.
Shokro pushed forward on his throne, looking ready to jump down at Asha. “You have your damn guarantee. Is she well?”
“She is, but the institute was attacked.” All eyes turned to her, except Balkos who chose to hold his breath.
“She is to return home.” The royal did not hesitate for a moment.
“No. She was not a target.” Asha lied. The motive of the mass attack remained very much unknown to her.
“Perhaps,” Hirr raised his palm in response, encrusted rings on each finger.. “It would do you well to let Sir know why you’re so certain. Hristak is not worth penetrating if not for royal blood.”
“There are two royals in the institute. Neither of them were involved to any capacity.”
“What of the branch royals?” Hirr asked, worry strewn across his face.
“If you gave a damn about them, you wouldn’t allow them to join The Greatest Good.”
“Again with this?” Shokro rolled his eyes, looking utterly done with her talking. “There is no longe–”
“I could rule out the first time as the imagination of a boy. Though I did believe. This time it seems I’ll make contact with them. Tell me Lord, what do I make of you when I find out you’re lying?” Eyes narrowed, smile sharp.
Shokro’s mouth stretched into a wide smile as he bellowed with laughter. “You’ve damn well lost it. Such delusion.” The representatives stared down at Asha, each rigid at her passing threat.
“You’re brave to laugh in the face of Songbird. You’ve forgotten Vorrak? Who put it down?” Asha drew her fingers together and whispered a spec of light into her palm.
His smile faded into composure. “For all your babbling, for what sense remains of you, I know you would never plunge this world into war.”
“Would you?” She asked timidly.
The tone caught Shokro off guard. “Certainly not.”
“Then you will have the crown of Massi Valor, issue a pardon for one Azurael Zoraveth.” She said conclusively.
Shokro became rigid. “Him? Pardon? For what?”
“The accidental killing of a branch royal.” Silent groans came from across the room.
“Tarnished,” Hirr shook his head. “Pride lost must be returned.”
“Worthless,” Marros threw his head back in disgust. “Why bother us with this pointlessness?”
“Pity,” Oro bowed his head in grief. “I enjoyed peace.”
“Done,” Rahni touched her heart. “Judgement has passed.”
Balkos looked expectantly at Shokro.
Xixvis hand was tucked into a coat pocket as he kept his eyes on the ball of light in Asha’s palm.
“A branch?” Shokro frowned in confusion. “The boy you mean, Azurael?”
Asha nodded.
“Yes, of course.” He stood up with haste. “If that is all, I shall meet with the crown of Massi Valor personally.” Asha had no objections, the representatives seemed to have but simply stood as Asha turned to walk back out the scorched doors.
The air buzzed with words unsaid, and they would not get the chance as Asha vanished the moment her body crossed the threshold of the doors.
