To Reeve’s left was an Immortal, like himself. His hair was chocolate brown. The sides were shaved completely. He, like Reeve was covered in various tattoos, even up into the shaved parts of his head. His bow and arrows slung around his back. He reclined against the stone seating with his legs crossed.
“How many have you lost, Premier?” A musical, childlike voice said.
Lithandrian, Queen of the Elven Lands, sat next to her husband. Her skin glowed like moonstone, her delicate features were like Zimsy’s, like those of a bird. Her hair was golden with spirals of white running through it. It was braided intricately atop her head. Elves were not Immortal, but they lived far longer than Magicals, hundreds of years sometimes.
“A third,” replied Ambrose.
Arman was at his side. Rowan was there too, his usual scowl was present rows behind Ambrose, along with the top Bellator. Orator Moon and his cabinet from The Double O were next to them.
“You called this meeting Ambrose,” said Lithandrian. “I hope it was worth traveling to his forsaken planet.” She smiled at him.
Ambrose smiled back. He stood and addressed the room, his hands behind his back. “My duty to Magicals is clear: protect. The vows I took as a Bellator, then as a Magical Militia, then as a Captain and then as The Premier were not taken lightly. I will always do as my conscious dictates to protect the innocent from any evil power that seeks to corrupt or destroy. It is my honor as The Premier of the only Magical race of people left to introduce you all to Malachite Peur.”
Ambrose gestured to Mal. Maeve looked up at him.
Mal stood. Abraxas had picked his attire. It was modest and simple, almost plain, as to not draw attention to himself, but to his words.
“My name is Malachite Peur,” he said, calculated charm and just enough humility oozing out of every word he spoke. “I’m honored to sit among you, the most renowned and powerful leaders, minds, and fighters across our worlds.”
“You are the boy who held up Vaukore,” said Lithandrian. “And who killed Kietel.”
Malachite nodded. “My mother was a human born Witch. And my Father was descended from Artemis Orion the Dread. I am the last of House Dread. And the first in three hundred years to wield their Magic in my veins.”
The shift that slammed through the room caused pride to well up in Maeve.
Maeve looked to her father, expecting a smile. But Ambrose was not. He sat straight up and his gaze drifted slowly throughout the room.
When his eyes landed on Mal, he have him a small nod.
“The Premier and I have discussed these matters at great lengths. I have no intention of running from my destiny,” said Mal. “But there is an order. I do not wish to throw our world out of balance.”
“Balance?” Said Lithandrian. “From where I am sitting there is nothing but chaos on Earth.” Lithandrian observed him with watchful eyes as she said, “what says the High Lord of Aterna?”
Reeve was kicked back in his seat, balancing on its back legs, his hands behind his head.
Reeve was silent. In fact, he ignored her completely. The Grand Disintis cleared his throat softly. Reeve looked at him and then at Lithandrian.
“Oh doth she speak to me?” He asked in an affected tone. “I thought surely after three centuries of the silent treatment you’d have something more interesting to say than that.”
Lithandrian’s tongue ran across her top teeth.
Reeve stared at her casually, his head resting on the back of his seat and his arms folded across his chest. His voice returned to its normal tamber. “The High Lord is gladly and dutifully remaining in alliance with the Magicals.”
Lithandrian looked towards Ambrose. “And what say you?”
“I must be missing the part where you were put in charge of this meeting,” said Reeve.
Lithandrian did not look to him again.
Orator Moon answered defensively. “Malachite is well aware The Orator’s Office supports his claim. I will do my duty as an elected official to the people.”
“Premier-” Lithandrian started.
Reeve groaned.
“I am merely curious about the state of things, High Lord. Do not forget it is I who was begged to attend this meeting today. It is my realm whom you desire alliances with.”
“It is not just alliances that are desired,” said Maeve, the words slipping from her mouth. “It is about returning to a Magical utopia, where all realms lived in harmony.”
