Prologue: The Council of Nolwë Osto - Completed

Perun listened to the words of others closely, though he did not allow their effects on him to show on his face. When Jean offered the "voting" using that parchment, the Chieftain frowned - that is the only emotion that escaped his mind. Who did he think he was? Arrogant and haughty, that was nothing new when it came to this man, he had been like that when they were both young. As most people in his position were or would be. Even Perun, he, the stalwart defender of his people, would sometimes look down on others. But he always strove to keep that in check. After all, who was he to judge others? To determine their fate? Only the Gods had that right, to toy with the destiny of mortals, but mortals themselves...they were masters of their own fates and only theirs.

He then looked about the room, his face having regained his previous impassive expression. Delegates from all over the world, from nations near and far. And yet, did they have the power to judge, to decide for other nations, other peoples? They may have the strength of arms, the political power...but do they have the right? After all, Perun could not begin to guess the Tynir General's true intention, his motives and goals, but one of the main ones seemed to be the preserving of his people. Was that an, as others called it, evil thing to do? Similarly, was not Perun's goal the same? Bettering his own country? Was this not why he had come here? And what would he, the Arbian Chieftain, do if someone suddenly demanded an explanation of why his people were trying to form something more than a tribe? And what would he, and the other Arbians, do if they threatened to stop them from achieving something more than a wretched existence? Would they merely bow their heads and listen to the will of others? In his mind, he smiled to himself - that was unthinkable. When words and politics failed, and they would, the time of axe and sword would come.

The outburst of the I'nak was not unexpected, in his youth he would have done the same. When she met the Chieftain's eyes, he did not flinch or shudder, he merely acknowledged her with those blue eyes of his. These two, from a land far away, wanted to have the means to defend themselves. Was that so wrong? A hunter without a means to kill is no hunter at all, a craftsman is only as good as his tools. Again he thought, what right did this Council have to deprive them of these necessities?

The Chieftain felt a fury rising inside him. Although he had never seen the homeland of these people, he did not know of them until a few hours ago, he felt a sympathy for them. A sympathy which forced him to talk. But there was another side to this man, the side of the politic and he forced himself to remain seated and quiet. As the Paladins led a lengthy recount of their history, he listened with interest. After all, it was not a common thing to hear of so much, in such a little time. If he would wish to learn more of this, he would no doubt have to spend long nights peering over old, dusty tomes. As such, unlike some other representatives, he payed attention throughout the tale.

A more perceptive side to him noted something, which gave him pause. Like him, these people were merely laying out their history. Presenting their country, their kin and their culture to the world as a whole. It just so happened that this history spanned a millennia, could they be faulted for their long lives? As he listened to the tales of the younger Paladins, he rested his chin between thumb and forefinger. It was an old habit of his, when considering something he would usually do that. In truth, Perun knew little of this Dark Lord, only what he had learned in Vatienne. And, as this very meeting showed, their history , their views were not shared by all. True, there was this very library as well, he had seen the name mentioned here as well. But that had happened long ago, in ancient times.

The show of skill, or magic, he could not say which, did not impress him over much, or so his appearance suggested. As a skilled hunter, he remained seated, did not speak or marvel, he remained clam as still water. Inside, however, in his mind...he could not truly comprehend what had happened. Quickly, there were those who merely dismissed the orb as some "illusion" or "trick". Or was that simply a different sort of magic? He could not say which. Perun was a man who had seen many things, but magic was never something he could understand or value. How could a frail man, with meek, small arms defeat even the greatest of warriors with but a flick of his hand? Years of training and natural skill...but no, the Chieftain paused. Was that frail man born as such? No. Like the warrior, he had to train and practice for many long days and nights. He was strong, just as the warrior, but in a different direction. Not of the body, but of the mind. he then wondered, what would happen if body and spirit were combined? A warrior who could kill with word and sword?

Swiftly, the Chieftain dismissed those thoughts. There could be such people in this world, but he had never met one. And he hoped he would not have to. For now, he merely hoped that whatever task needed doing would leave him less exposed to this...magic. It was not something he could comprehend, nor something he could counter. Or could he? He would never know until he met a hostile mage. He found himself drifting off and, through force of will, forced himself to pay attention.

He then continued looking on, at the duel of words between his old friend and the General. And slowly, a frightening thought crept into his mind. A thought which was there from the start, but he did not allow it to surface. And yet, now it had. They would not accomplish anything. They would take no action. So embroiled where they in their own personal politics and petty struggles that whatever power was behind this, it would face a divided world. When the man from Spire spoke, Perun instantly found a respect for him. Like him, this man knew little of these mysterious arts, but like him - he knew that actions had to be taken. There was time for talks, for words, but the time of deeds was at hand.

And yet...he remained silent. After another volley of words, the Council grew quieter for a moment. Now was the time he had to talk, it seemed that most of them were in agreement that words were futile at this point. This made his task so much easier. He looked about the table, where the representatives were seated. Throughout the duration of the talks, Vatienne and its politics had been at the center. And now the Paladins as well. Two mighty powers, enemies of the Shadow and yet...they were only two. His eyes wandered to the others, the emissaries of the smaller nations. While it is true that these peoples had great power and knowledge, they were not the only ones who had to decide for all. For while they were indeed mighty, the world was full of smaller nations. Nations like his, the Arbians, the people of Spire, the folk of the Swamps...they were all part of this world. And its destiny was in their hands, all of them. Their voices had to be heard.

Perun nodded to the elven hostess and rose, for the first time moving away from the chair and the table.

"I would speak..." - he began, in a calm, but powerful voice

He began pacing back and forth, as he considered his next words carefully.

"I cannot claim to have vast knowledge of your history or struggles. I know nothing of the arcane arts. I have no great host at my back to force you to submit to my will. But...I do know something." - he paused, allowing his words to float in the air for a time - "I have led men and have waged battles. I know that a united foe is the strongest and, a divided one - an easy pray. You, no, we...we are all easy pray at the moment. For we are divided."

He approached the back of his chair and rested his hands on it.

"We have stood here for many long hours and what has come of that? Nothing. You trade insults and japes, you look at your own interests and you accomplish nothing. I do not know who this foe is, old or new, he has made the first step in this war. You are divided and you will fall, one by one."

A pause followed, as he studied the emissaries carefully.

"What do I propose, you may ask? As I have heard, it seems that we finally have reached some sort of conclusion. Deeds are upon us. Let those who have greater knowledge than I, a simple hunter, prepare for this unknown foe. How and where, I do not know, it is beyond my abilities. And the rest of us, let us investigate why the other delegates have not arrived." - another pause, before he spoke again - "I myself wish to travel to Valinyx, for its people are a friend of the Arbians. We trade with them, we share news - as fate would have it, it is from their merchants that we learned of this gathering..."

He remained quiet for a few moments, wondering if he had anything else to say.

"That is all." - he said after deciding - "I hope that you will heed my words."

With that, the Chieftain returned to his seat, eager to see the results of his actions.

Ja’Dhannar listened patiently while he waited for his turn again, smirking beneath his mask as the I’nak made a display over the petition. It was a slight relief to him that he would not have to put his name on paper, most Khajiiti preferred to avoid leaving any sort of evidence of where they were and when. It wasn’t such an issue with merchants, but among those who wished to maintain their anonymity, it was a tender issue. As the meeting carried on, he watching the Vatiennien and the Tynir argue between one another. He quirked an eyebrow with how much the General had to say about magical evidence that the Paladins brought into the light.

Finally, his desire to speak was noticed and the Khajiiti rose before the council once again.

“With all due respect General, I fail to see your experience regarding the analysis of magic. The Khajiiti have worked with illusion magic for centuries, but I can honestly state that I have only the vaguest idea how to analyze the details behind light and dark magic because the principles behind them have little in common. I do not wish to reject your argument; I simply want to know the validity behind it… That is unless your race has been bestowed with more than steel and structures…”

Ja’Dhannar paused for a brief moment, placing the slightest emphasis on that last statement.

“Although, I am pleased to hear that you are willing to allow a group to travel within your boarders for an investigation. If your motives behind arming yourselves with steel truly are noble, then I feel we will be able to provide you with further assistance. Clearly the first thing we will wish to make more efficient is the way you are training your ‘town watch’.” He put the slightest tone of speculation behind that title. “If you are wishing to protect your towns, then sparring is not the most efficient way to prepare your men. After all, you are wishing to fight off the beasts that wander into your villages, none of whom are likely to be equipped with armor and steel, right? While on that subject, our scouts have noticed that the sheer numbers of your guard are much more than is needed to patrol a town at any given hour and provided with more weapons and armor than patrolmen. It should also be noted that plate mail is more suited for large battles rather than skirmishing wild animals; chainmail is far better suited for the task.”

“As for using the spires as a means to protect your people, would it not be more effective to build a sufficient wall around your towns instead? Villagers running to the stronghold would still be vulnerable until they actually make it to the fortifications. Why not bring the fortifications to them? We would also be able to increase your team of archers. I am aware that your people wish to kill when they are up close and personal to your adversary, but whenever a beast is in the throng of your young, a ranged strike could save the lives that would be lost by the time the distance is closed.”

Ja’Dhannar looked directly at the Tynir general, addressing him directly now.

“Truth be told, I cannot say that I have witnessed our young being torn apart by a beast larger than even our mightiest warrior. We do, however, have tales and history books telling of such a time only a few centuries ago, around the time Kvatch was unified into a nation. If your claims are true, then there is little difference between us. Both of us are looking to protect our people and our lands from those who could bring harm to them. As far as I see it, there are only three significant dissimilarities:

First, the predators that plague your boarders do so out of hunger. Once they have fed, they will go on their way. The predators that threaten our lands seek genocide rather than nourishment.

Secondly, the animals that threaten your people may travel in packs, truth is that they are not unifying as a whole.

Finally, while both of us are threatened by beasts who have the potential to overrun our towns and ravage our people, the ones threatening your race are not arming themselves with steel.

Hopefully the Listener’s concerns regarding the Tynir’s latest actions are unnecessary, but I think it isn’t hard to see why we are addressing this situation by preparing for the worst.”

“I’m truly looking forward to it, Ambassador Poitiers, but back to the topic at hand.”

He allowed the priest to finish his thought, softly sighing at the mention of ‘incontestable proof.’ If it were so incontestable, the council would be doing exactly what you want, you dim-witted human. Knowing full well that the priest would simply rave again should he voice his thoughts, Ayurent allowed the meeting to progress, his lips set to a thin line as he watched the council shift towards action, instead of politics.

And all thoughts of invasion seemed to have faded from the forefront of their minds. Well, that was one less hurdle to deal with. The words of the Khajiiti danced into his ears, and the Tynir’s eyes narrowed into a cold violet. “We do not pretend to understand the in workings of magic. The Tynir have no affinity for the magical arts, and as such, we truly cannot define it ourselves. It is with that in mind that I ask for other evidence, Ambassador. For those of us not ‘blessed’ with the arcane to put our faith in. Something more material. Perhaps we shall find it during these investigations?”

He watched as the cat began to ‘explain’ to him the finer points of defending his people from the land they had lived in for ages. “Don’t confuse yourself. They are not a town watch. They function as an army. It would be unfortunate to have to use such an army, but we will not stand by and let ourselves be trampled upon. We know how to fight the beasts, and we always have. The weaponry and armour, no matter how inappropriate you think it may be, will make this task easier. And firing a bow in the marshes is most difficult, you‘ll find. The ground makes it difficult to keep a stable base and bows don‘t last very long due to the constant storms.” Something dark lurked in his eyes, before he chuckled.

This cat seemed to know quite a bit…but it‘s information was still lacking. Which was saying something when you were referring to Khajiiti. “As for the Spire, it’s wall is almost complete. Did your spies miss that? After which we will begin construction within the walls. After all, the marshes are prone to flooding and the wall will enable us to build without fear of flooding. The spire gives us both a stable base, and a capital, which every nation needs, does it not?” At the mention of the war that once raged between their kind, he simply shook his head.

“The wars of two tribal people. I do not let them cloud my judgement. They are ancient, and if you are so worried about them happening again, you could simply kill off our entire chain of command again.” His smile grew bigger, as he laced his fingers in front of his face. “Of course, that would rely on you being able to find the Lady, wouldn’t it? I hear you’ve had…quite the time trying to learn of her.”

With a small nod, he looked to the others of the chamber. “I will return to Korun Otak and tell the Lady of all that has transpired here. And of course, those of you who wish to accompany me may do so. Kamon’Belkar welcomes all to come visit. We only ask that you pack proper provisions for such a journey. The food of our land is…harsher than yours, and will not sit well in your stomach.” He bowed his head, casting a glance over to the Arbian Chieftain. The man was….curious. He seemed strong, yet wise as well. Perhaps these Arbians would require some investigation sometime in the future. Ayurent made a mental note to mention this upon his return home.

Every council member seemed to have their own personal opinions, their own gripe with a different representative of the assembly. Saint certainly had his own. The Thendari and Vatiennian delegates seemed to dog at his heels with every turn, though he had expected as much. He was, however, pleasantly surprised by the lack of testimony from the Quendi delegates. They were the ones that truly could have been damning, known as they were as voices of moderation.

And yet, it was the Arbian and spiran delegates who offered a solution to all of the petty squabbling. Truly elegant, they would simply split up and search for additional evidence. Wonderful. The massive Tynir General certainly knew his political maneuvering, and Saint was glad of it. The political battlefield had been navigated here without too many major casualties. Certainly a favorable outcome, at the very least. He supposed the saying about plain folk making the best politicians was true after all. Would that he had met with the general before the council, that they might have gone over strategy!

Saint stood once again in the wake of the discussion. The room quieted as he began what he suspected would be his final address to the assembly.

“I am impressed by the wisdom with which some of the delegates have reached their conclusion. I shall break through my demeanor for a moment to say that I was truly afraid we might have innocent blood shed over a painful facsimile of “evidence”, but this decision is truly a reasonable one. To search for additional evidence, the Mountains will of course offer their every possible assistance, and thank for your logic.”

Saint smiled faintly, still pleased by the outcome of the discussion. There were few better-case scenarios, though this had certainly been the most likely. He shuddered to think what might have occurred here had he and the general not attended. Perhaps they would have reached the same decision… perhaps. Saint was glad the Dark Lord had decided not to take that risk.

Momentarily, the Thendari delegate drew his gaze, and Saint’s small smile immediately disappeared. The irony of the situation... that Chalan should be one of his main opponents in this arena. The young-looking Thendari was more angry than Saint had ever seen him before, almost burning with righteous fury. Ah, to have that kind of naiveté again…

In memory, regret tinged Saint’s thoughts. Old summer days spent in the library, studying with good friends. Chälan and Saila, lost to him now that he had chosen this darker path. Even twenty-four years ago, he remembered the day they had met, like it was etched into his mind.



Sun shone through the library’s plate-glass windows, casting rays of gold and sapphire through the dusty air. It was not the easiest light to read by, but they kept glowstones on hand for that exact purpose. Fionu was waiting for Saila and her friend in one of the private reading rooms, nervously. She had told him that there was a Thendári elf that had recently come to Nolwë Osto, and that there was great knowledge to be gained. She had also told Fionu that she was learning the language. He really didn’t know what to expect.

All stories he had heard of the Thendári told of beings that lived even longer than Quendi, that had visited the plane of spirit themselves and come back on a holy mission of cleanse the land of darkness. He heard that beneath their skin was not bones and flesh, but pure light, and if cut, it would bleed from them in rays and beams. He thought it most likely hogwash, but it was what he had heard, and it made him a little frightened to meet this Thendári.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Saila enter the room, another elf in tow. The newcomer was tall and dark-haired, and wore strange, white armor. Introducing himself as Chälan, he explained that he was Thendári, and he had come at the behest of the elder Paladins of his order to restore relations with Taurë Arda. He wore a smile as clean and pure as had ever graced Emoria.

Fionu took an instant liking to him.

“Chälan is here to learn about Quendi culture and history, Fionu. The Thendári have been out of touch for so long, and it’s really exciting that they’re finally accessible! I don’t know if you’ve ever heard Thendári spoken, but it’s such a beautiful language. He’s been helping me learn it.” Fionu had never had Saila’s flair for languages. His expertise extended to translating, not using. It fit her to be so worked up over the possibility of new knowledge, though.

“That’s wonderful, Saila. I’m pleased that you two have become such fast friends. Hello, Chälan, and let me welcome you to the library. Please, let me show you around.”

The three of them wandered the library briefly, Fionu pausing at some of the places he felt most vital or interesting. He showed Chälan how the glowstones and reader lamps worked, and how things were organized into shelf upon shelf within the massive building. The Thendari was particularly surprised when Fionu told him that the Library extended deep beneath the earth as well.

“In Irrihyánë, we build mostly above the ground. Is this normal for Nolwë Osto? We like to see the sky.”

Fionu couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “No, my friend. There are thousands of years of history behind this library, but it is not normal for us to build under the ground. The reason for that is actually the point of much speculation. I like to believe that there is something the founders of the library wished to bury deep here.”

Saila giggled “Fionu is something of a historian. When he isn’t looking at dusty medical tomes, he’s looking at historical accounts. The archivists here have a running bet to see if they can guess why.” Fionu blushed a little, but stayed silent on the topic. Neither of them could understand his sister’s condition, and it wasn’t something you brought up in polite company. “Chälan, how do you keep your records in Irrihyánë? I hope I pronounced that correctly.”

A slight nod and another smile graced the younger-looking Quendë’s face. “Yes, thank you. Most of our records are kept by the order itself, but we have nothing as grand as this. Truly, I’m impressed! We don’t really keep strict records of many things, just the members and their duties for the most part. They’re very old records, though. Most of the original Paladins are still around, and the order was founded thousands of years ago.”

Fionu really didn’t know what to think. Thendári really were much different from their Quendi kin, though they had sprung from the same roots. Among the Hyarya, they called the Thendári the “Lost,” as both clans had connections to the spirit realm. Thendári were the monsters of many of the Hyaryan folk-tales, demons that never aged and had lost themselves on the spirit plane.

Chälan certainly didn’t seem lost. If anything, he seemed genuinely happy and at peace. Fionu certainly didn’t mind that particular tale being wrong. With a lifted heart and a smile, Fionu said goodbye to the pair as they left the library together.



“Of course,” continued Saint, “It would be entirely unrealistic to simply offer condolences. My nation, if that is what you choose to call it, is an ancient one. We have a very… colorful history, to say the least, and If I were to say that we had never been a part of something we regretted, I would be lying.”

“It is because of this potentially unfriendly reputation that I will follow the example of the general, and open our gates wide. In addition to offering this coalition of nations any help it may require of the mountains, I will allow the investigation to enter our city-states uncontested, if you should decide to journey there. In this way, I hope to show that we have nothing to hide. Not even from you, Paladins,” he finished, shooting a final smirk and taunting glance in their direction.

Saint sat down in his seat once again, fidgeting a little. What would Chalan have to say of that revelation?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Chälan had been struggling to stifle his outrage at being blatantly ignored. More than anything, he was hurt and confused at the other elves' silence. Things were spiraling out of control even as a supposed solution was reached. And all while Chälan's mind was still puzzling out the riddle of Morgarath's representative.

The dark elf was speaking now, more drivel posing as cooperation. But the elf said something, then. "...facsimile of 'evidence.'" And suddenly Chälan had the answer to his riddle. There was only one person he knew that used those two words in conjunction. Chälan did not even hear what Saint said next. Though he glared darkly in Saint's direction, Chälan did not even see him. The council was gone, Chälan's sight dominated by the memories burning behind his eyes. A wave of recognition carried him through a flood of remembrance.


***
Chälan saw himself following his new friend, a very young archivist named Sailahína Carnil, so full of life and the love of study. She was leading Chälan through the library to meet a close friend of hers, wanting everyone to become acquainted. A door opened; inside sat a contemplative elf who looked up when the two entered. As Saila began introductions, the other elf stood and looked in Chälan's direction.

Their eyes locked for the first time.


***
Suddenly those same eyes stared back from a different scene, months later. Fionu's sword was locked with his opponent's, his face was sweating, he was panting hard. Chälan relived the steady breaths he himself took as the two faced each other outside the library, the midday sun bright and warm on their shoulders. They taunted each other between breaths.

"Hah... Learn you enough yet?" said Chälan, still learning to speak Quenya.
"Above... enough... ancient-one!" Fionu shot back, trying to grin while panting.
"To show me!" Chälan grinned back, unaware that he'd accidentally used the infinitive.
Fionu's face was overcome with a genuine smile as his head lowered toward the ground. He put up his hand to stop their sparring match. "Forgive-you me," he said, breathless this time from laughter. "Not... not... aHAhahaha..." his speech was lost as he hugged his middle and fell to the ground, overcome.
Fionu's laugh was so infectious, his writhing so comical, that the Thendári found his humor and before long was on the grass next to his friend, his armor clinking as he lay in fitful merriment.

The sky was still warm and blue when their laughter subsided. The metal swords grew hot, lying abandoned on the grass. From the ground, Chälan's armor glowed as it absorbed and reflected the bright sun.


***
Blue, sunlit sky stared down at them from a skylight in the study room's ceiling. Chälan was speaking in Common to Saila and Fionu, teaching them Thendárin elvish.

"...and since there are no plurals or unique possessives in Thendárin, 'lli' can mean 'I,' 'me,' 'we,' 'us,' 'my,' 'mine,' 'our,' or 'ours.' Speaker, context and word order will be the only indications telling you which is which. Take for example the phrase 'lli dhíla.' Whether this means 'my kin' or 'our kin' is usually obvious because of the speaker, whether he is speaking of himself is representing a group.

"Now, something more difficult. Lle ethendra lle dhíla. You defend your kin. In Quenya you might say you ought to be a protection for your kin, yes? Caumaiele tyelda? I've been working on..."


***
"...worked out that the evidence presented was only a facsimile," said Fionu. "They used illusion magic to make it appear similar."
"Fascinating," said Chälan. "And the Hyarya were able to detect it?"
"That's a specialty of the Hyarya," Saila interjected. "I've heard that one method is to bend sunlight so that..."


***
Sunlight again poured down its heat upon the world, and outside one part of the library there was again the ring and clash of dueling blades.

Fionu, against all impressions, was actually improving. Chälan leapt up to meet Fionus' midair strike, and two blows were exchanged before the pair landed back on the ground. Losing no momentum, Chälan turned and rushed into another movement of slash and parry, weave and strike. Chälan still had the upper hand by far during most of their fights, but there were times, like now, when Fionu was able to muster a burst of clever skill and improve the odds, if slightly.

Fionu tried to turn a parry into a counterattack, and Chälan responded with a horizontal strike. Both blades rang, echoing off the library walls. Instead of allowing himself to recoil from the impact, Chälan turned it into a follow-up strike. The parry came off-balance, but still Fionu...


***
Fionu...


***
"Fionu, this is madness!"



The words echoed. The words echoed through a blur of scenes. They echoed from three years after their meeting, twenty before the present.

The words echoed. The flow of memories ceased, overpowered by the anger and deep hurt that had wrenched those final words in Quenya from Chälan's lips when Fionu departed -- leaving, it was thought, forever -- from Nolwë Osto. Chälan felt the hurt now as strongly as he did then. Indeed worse, for this sudden, undeniable realization now compounded his agony, his dark rage at what he saw in the council before him. This vile abomination, this dark corruption of elvenkind, had once been Fionu Arqueno.

"...will allow the investigation to enter our city-states uncontested, if you should decide to journey there. In this way, I hope to show that we have nothing to hide. Not even from you, Paladins,” Saint was saying, pointedly, mockingly, before returning to his seat.

Chälan was about to draw a breath to speak, but an imperceptible tensing of his superior's jaw snapped Chälan out of his reverie. Suddenly he heard as if for the first time what Saint had said: Thendári, among others, would be allowed into the Mountains of Night. Anatar was right to stop him: Chälan didn't think he could trust himself to make a proper answer just now. Anatar made another gesture, equally imperceptible, for Tatyana to answer instead.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Inside, Titanya was outraged that the Thendári's claims and counsel had been so bluntly whitewashed. This is exactly what Morgarath wants! she thought. Division. Delay. The purpose of this council was to accomplish the opposite: unification and action.

Tatyana was going to ask to be called upon, but the dark elf was first. Tatyana steeled herself for more of his placating, waiting for it to end so she could defeat his manipulative influencing. But Saint's next words were not so empty. Indeed, they changed everything, from the status of the council all the way through every one of the Paladins' contingency plans.

"In addition to offering this coalition of nations any help it may require of the mountains, I will allow the investigation to enter our city-states uncontested, if you should decide to journey there. In this way, I hope to show that we have nothing to hide. Not even from you, Paladins."

Tatyana, along with the rest of the Thendári, was astonished. They had never conceived of such a turn of events, not even among their wildest notions. Outwardly each of them maintained their stone-faced masks. Underneath, they were quickly putting together the pieces, making deductions, attempting to perceive all they could from this new direction. What possibilities, what dangers, might await such a journey?

It would be a suicide mission. Of that, Tatyana was sure most would agree. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity not to be ignored. The only other way into the Mountains of Night was through invasion, and Alos had been planning that for a long, long time. Could information be gathered beforehand? Could they survive to tell the tales? Tatyana decided it didn't matter. Lives would eventually be lost in battle. If there was a chance to hasten the end of the Darkness, there was no more worthy a venture.

Her decisive confidence must have shown, for Anatar gestured -- too subtly for any outsider to perceive -- for Tatyana to speak.

Being called upon, Tatyana stood, casting in her mind the form of her next words. It would do no good to repeat what her brother Chälan had said. Vain repetition breeds ignominy. They would not hear. They were not ready. And a righteous cause, if forced upon others, thereby becomes an evil cause.

Tatyana took the entirety of the council in her gaze. "We have called, but you have not answered. If it must be thus, then I fear it is already too late to prevent Morgarath's next strike against Emoria. Nevertheless, we eagerly await our next meeting, to hear the results of your investigations. In the meantime..." her gaze focused on the dark elf, "we will go with you to the Mountains of Night.

"We thirteen," she swept her forearms to the sides, "will journey into the Shadow, and see there what lies hidden."

Dasciis was disappointed overall with what had happened during the council. It seemed as if more harm had been caused than solutions offered. But he had done all that he could to help. There was only so much any man could do when the ears and eyes of one's brethren were closed from prejudices and hatred. But they had listened to his idea, at least. From the sounds of things, Valinyx and the Mountains of Night would be investigated, and no doubt someone would be sent to Breale to investigate their absence. Economically, Breale was perhaps the most important nation in Emoria. Dasciis was sure that his King, and the missing Torser, would be pleased with his influence over the council.

With the paladins' decision to investigate the Mountains of Night, the elven woman, Sailahína, stood up.

"It seems we have come to an agreement on the course of action, if not the source of the troubles. There are several lands that need to be investigated, it seems, before we can come to a conclusion: Valinyx, Breale, and Fermata are mysteriously absent, which brings both worry and suspicion to my heart. The Mountains of Night and the southern lands have welcomed guests to allow further investigation. It would seem most wise to take this offer to strengthen the bonds of our nations.

"I think we are all weary, and that this council must come to its close. I apologize to those of you who did not get to speak, but I assume that your silence is acceptance in voiding your turn. I suggest we all return to our rooms and think about what needs to be done, and where we wish to go. I encourage you to speak among one another and form coalitions to undertake these important journeys. Return here tomorrow and state your destination, so that I can keep track of where help is headed, and where help is needed.

" Some of you may wish to return home. With the news that has been revealed during this council, I can not blame you. However, keep in mind that Emoria needs you. You came to this council for a reason, and the rest of Emoria needs you for that same reason." Sailahína smiled and looked across the table at each of the members.

"This council is dismissed."

[/end Prologue]