The High Council

The High Council

“And when will the wall be repaired?”

High Council Leader Thrankal’s question travelled through the cavernous council chamber, rising towards its vaulted ceiling before returning as a faint, accusing echo.

Deron Jain stood alone upon the circular mosaic at the centre of the hall. As the Guardian responsible for the security of Kefar, he was accustomed to giving orders and receiving reports. Standing before the High Council, however, was another matter entirely.

Gilded columns encircled the chamber, each carved with scenes from Kefar’s long and carefully curated history. Between them hung silk banners from the Vireilian Bloomlands, their embroidered flowers and curling vines lending warmth to a room designed chiefly to remind visitors that they possessed none of the power within it.

“It could be months,” Deron replied. “Possibly longer, if the volcanic activity continues to shake the ground while the repairs are underway.”

His voice sounded smaller in the chamber than he had intended.

“We could finish sooner if the Council permitted Guardians to assist the workers,” he continued, “and allowed us to use some of the stored power crystals to power and enhance the speed of the work done on the damaged sections.”

“An excellent idea,” Councillor Menard declared.

He sat four seats from Thrankal upon the raised, curving arc that dominated the head of the chamber. From the floor below, the nine councillors appeared to lean over anyone called to stand before them. Even the most confident speaker could find it difficult to think while surrounded by nine solemn faces and the repeated reverberations of their own voice.

“After all,” Menard continued, as he often did when there was an opportunity to demonstrate how very much he deserved to be heard, “there can be no greater concern than the security of the Mosaic’s capital.”

Menard continued as he often did to ensure his voice was preeminent and so that others would see him as a strong potential leader on the next selection. 

“Thieves could regard the fallen wall as an invitation. The Bank of Ironroot, the Kefar Crystal Exchange, perhaps even the libraries themselves could become targets.”

Menard first turned towards the councillors of the Argent Isles. Their islands might possess their own harbours, estates, and ancient houses, but much of their wealth still passed through Kefar. He needed them to hear that an attack upon the great city would also be an attack upon them.

“All the Mosaics would suffer.”

Then his gaze travelled beyond them to the representatives of the Mosaic Archipelago’s smaller and more distant islands. Menard was one of their own, born and allegiant first to the Argent Isles then to Kefar. 

“And the consequences would not end there.”

A few of the outer-island councillors straightened in their seats. Menard allowed the words to settle before extending one hand towards the chamber as though gathering all its divisions beneath his concern.

“Indeed, dare I say, all of Aethoria.”

“There is no need,” Thrankal interrupted.

Menard’s expression tightened.

“Double the guard along the damaged sections,” Thrankal told Deron. “Assign additional Guardians to the city’s principal financial institutions until the wall is secure. That will be all.” Thrankal dismissed the matter with a small wave of his hand. Menard sat back, visibly stung by the interruption.

Deron bowed, relief briefly overcoming ceremony, and departed with a pace just short of hurried.

Menard was seething by the time Deron had left the chamber. Thrankal and he were, at least in principle, equals. Menard attributed Thrankal’s rise to leadership not to any remarkable wisdom or oratorical ability, but to the simple fact that Kefarian natives held more council seats than the increasingly outnumbered representatives of the outer isles.

That explanation had the additional virtue of not requiring Menard to admit that Thrankal might actually be better at politics.

“It has been quite a morning,” Thrankal said, looking around the chamber. “I suggest we recess until after midday 1.25 time. We will resume with the budget deliberations.”

Councillors immediately began gathering documents and exchanging quiet remarks.

“Menard,” Thrankal added, “a word, if you please.”

He extended his right arm in an apparently welcoming gesture. The fine white cotton sleeve of his council robes fell from it like a pale curtain as he descended from the arc.

Menard waited.

In the time it took Thrankal to cross the chamber, Menard had already devised two possible reasons for the request, three ulterior motives, and one particularly unpleasant possibility involving an incident with his cousin and a business transaction. By the time Thrankal reached him, Menard was thoroughly on guard.

“There is some news I should share with you,” Thrankal said quietly. “Rumours have already begun to circulate, so it is best that you are informed officially.”

Menard’s curiosity sharpened, but he kept his expression composed and unconcerned.

“How considerate of you.”

“The stored power crystals should not be called upon at this time. We should also refrain from suggesting their use in future meetings.”

Menard glanced towards him. “Is there a problem with the stores?”

“Not precisely. It is simply something of which we must remain…” he paused… “aware.” Then he continued, “The Keeper of the Crystal Store in the Fire Quarter has informed me that the crystals are recharging at a somewhat slower pace than they once did. They also appear to hold their charge for less time.”

“How much more slowly?”

“It is difficult to measure with certainty. The Keeper believes the difference has increased by approximately .15 time over the last year.”

Menard maintained his carefully neutral expression.

A year?

Menard was incredulous that Thrankal had been sitting on this information for a year and had not spoken a word of it before the Council. “I’ll have him for this.” He thought.. “Old fool, at last a misstep I can use.”

“I can guess what you are thinking,” Thrankal said. “But there is more.”

“Go on.”

At worst, Menard would learn more about an inconvenient problem with the city’s crystal stores. At best, Thrankal would reveal enough to hang himself completely with.

“I have empowered a small group to investigate, just a few involved to keep everything……under control,” Thrankal chose his words carefully. “The Keeper does not believe the power crystals themselves are the source of the problem.”

Menard waited.

“He suspects the cause lies with the Heartwell Crystal itself.”

Menard gasped.

Several councillors turned towards them. Menard noticed their response to his shock and quickly covered it. 

“She truly said that?” Menard exclaimed suddenly, raising his voice and forcing a laugh. “To his face?”

The watching councillors lost interest and returned to their own conversations.

Menard lowered his voice again. “Forgive me. I was not expecting that. Who else knows?”

Thrankal’s mouth tightened as he guided Menard towards the chamber’s secondary doors.

“The Keeper knows. A young mage and several of his companions know. And now, of course,….. you.”

“That is already far too many people.”

“There may also be some involvement from the Mechanum Ascendancy.”

This time Menard managed to swallow and contain his gasp, though only by clenching his jaw. They had moved far enough from the other councillors and the chamber Guardians that no one was likely to overhear them.

“What do you mean, involvement from the Mechanum Ascendancy? Are they behind this?”

“No. I do not suspect hostile action by any Aethorian power.”

“Then what….?”

Thrankal, frustrated, “If I knew then I wouldn’t employ investigators now would I.”

“Kaelen Thorne is leading the investigation,” Thrankal continued. “A young mage from the Thalorian Tide. I trust him.”

Menard raised an eyebrow. “You trust him?”

“He is ambitious, but he cares about what happens to others. More importantly, he is difficult to connect directly to us. He is a recent graduate, not a native of the Argent Isles, and holds no official position within Kefar.”

“A convenient collection of qualities.”

“Quite.”

Thrankal stopped near one of the vast doors and lowered his voice further.

“Thorne asked that a Mechanum associate of his from the Academy’s Inter-Crestrealm Exchange Program be contacted and permitted to assist them. I therefore sent a request on behalf of the Council, asking that this Mechanum mage be allowed to leave the Ascendancy and join the investigation.”

“On behalf of the Council?” Menard asked. “Without consulting the Council?”

“Yes.”

“This is all very damning information, Thrankal. Why are you being so forthcoming?”

Thrankal’s gaze drifted towards the silk banners as though the answer might have been embroidered among their leaves.

“The team required funding,” he said, “and a plausible purpose for its travels. Over the last year, I have included several modest expenditures within the Food and Supplies budget.”

Menard went still.

Thrankal turned back to him.

“As councillor responsible for that portfolio, you will be expected to overlook those expenditures during this afternoon’s proceedings.”

“For the good of Kefar, I suppose?”

“And dare I say,” Thrankal replied, “all of Aethoria?”

His expression remained cold and utterly humourless.

Menard struggled to arrange the information into anything resembling order. The Heartwell Crystal, the source from which all crystal energy in Aethoria ultimately flowed, might be weakening. Thrankal had concealed an investigation inside Menard’s budget. He had contacted the Mechanum Ascendancy in the name of the entire High Council without its knowledge.

There was more than enough here to destroy Thrankal’s leadership.

There was also just enough to make Menard appear complicit.

“In fact,” Thrankal continued, “I will need to add several more lines to the budget. There has been a discovery near Helion.”

“What sort of discovery?”

“One that may prove important.”

Menard stared at him. “That is not an answer.”

“It is the only answer you require at present.”

The chamber around them had begun to empty. Footsteps moved across polished stone, robes whispered through the doorways, and the low murmur of political conversation retreated into the surrounding corridors.

“I need you to understand that I am doing this for Kefar,” Thrankal said. “For the future of all our people. If word of the Heartwell’s decline becomes public, it will ripple across the world in waves of destruction. Markets will collapse. Alliances will fracture. Every Crestrealm will begin hoarding power crystals, searching for someone to blame, or preparing to seize whatever sources remain.”

His gaze hardened.

“And Kefar will lose control.”

Menard’s thoughts raced through every possible advantage, escape, accusation, and denial. Thrankal watched him consider them all.

“I know you will not speak of this,” Thrankal said. “Not yet. You will wait until you can find some way to slither free without leaving your own skin behind.”

Menard’s face flushed.

“I also know how you will vote on the budget this afternoon.”

Thrankal stepped closer, his voice little more than a murmur.

“For now, you will keep our very important secret. You will do so until Thorne and his peculiar collection of investigators discover what is happening to the Heartwell and, with some good fortune, how to stop it.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, Thrankal slapped Menard companionably upon the back.

“Enjoy your lunch.”

He walked swiftly through the open doors, his pale robes trailing behind him.

Menard remained where he was, staring after him.

For once, he had no desire at all to ensure that his voice was heard.

Thy Quest: Power Behind the Council
Thrankal controls Menard without directly ordering or threatening him. Identify two ways Thrankal traps Menard into supporting the secret investigation. Explain what these actions reveal about how Thrankal uses power.