The wide sandstone streets of Orakash were alive and on the move under the bright yellow sun. The heat simmered off the sun baked streets as sandal footed children played roughly, their young voices giggling off the ancient standing buildings. The volunteer militia patrolmen marched down the street in a strict orderly formation as Henzil made his way past the block of men. Henzil had fixed his messy robe from earlier and now bore high class desert robes as white as bone and laced with golden copper that clung loosely to his moderately fit, lean body. A old relic of a key slapped against his chest on a necklace as he walked, the sacred Fifth Key of Ashtoken, a symbol of his power and one of the seven devices needed to unlock the great tomb of the hero that laid underneath the old dome rock next to the temple, first meeting place of all the tribal leaders and where Ashtoken declared unification. Henzil thought briefly about this patriotic story as his hands rested on a pommel on either side of him, the left being the pommel of his fathers Yexara, and his right on the famed and very well decorated Yexara of his grandfather, Hevi Deprash.

As he strode down the bustling streets filled with merchants and preachers his curious eyes scanned a large burnt down building among a nest of rubble and charred remains, the fire of the 71st kept it's blackened signature on the city even today. Henzil had heard about it, but he had personally hoped it would be fixed before he ever would have to see it for himself. He couldn't bear to think of the lives lost and the historic buildings erased, alas he did anyway, and made a face in a disappointed grimace. The only relief of this disgusted face was the strong presence of Ashtoken guards studying the remains to rule out any foul criminal act.

Today would've been a nice walk through the oldest city, Henzil thought to himself contently. The weather was hot and dry as usual, but not much else can be expected in the center of a desert. The local Magi had been telling tales of a possible sandstorm coming their way from Kenero, this was always exciting for the children. Why the same device used to thwart invaders brought such curiosity and fun to the children, Henzil never knew. He himself was a different child than most Ashtoken, if not all, being brought up solely under the Deprash dynasty, he had little taste for the outside world until the Great Gnoll war was called and still many years later, his acute differences were noticeable among his peers. Some days he had wished he wasn't sheltered so much by his grandfather, Hevi "Old Man" Deprash, but instead grew up on the edge of the sword like a normal Ashtoken, or even exceeded that expectation like his old friend Gori Lamillur had. Despite these dry wishes, he was already spoiled, a rare scenario in Ashishia, luckily he was still forced to learn the politics and philosophical arts, and with teenage-hood he eventually fell in par with other Ashishians in battle etiquette and expertise. 

Henzil exited his idle thought with a meaningless blink as he approached a tall copper door that closed the great mouth of a giant otherworldly looking sandstone temple, the first council chambers, and desert temple of the people, home of the Ophaven dynasty and Third star. This building was perhaps the oldest under the name of Ashtoken, built by the Hero himself in his later years. His daughters were wided eyed at the extravagant sight, although this was not their first trip to Orakash, the novelty of the great temple never quite wears off, as Henzil himself felt a subtle whisper of the butterflies that first filled his stomach many years ago when he was first escorted to the temple by his grandfather. 

His escorting Elite guards pushed the wide doors open with a heavy and grinding swing. A rush of sacred incense blasted its sweet scent against the faces of the entourage. Henzil took in a deep breath happily of the soothing spice, his eldest, Yia, mimicking his reaction. The elite guards flanked both of his sides while his seven daughters trailed behind loyally like lost puppies in the large decorated hallway. Braziers lit up the way, emitting poofs of the strong incense that clouded the ceiling in layers of thick mist that eventually drained through small slit like vent. Brazier fire also performed with long licks of the oxygen seeking flames and a dancing heat that glowed warmly off the tastefully designed mural covered walls, depicting many Ashtoken stories of myths and histories. The glowing hall eventually spilled into a large atrium dancing with the shadows of posted temple guards and the small group that shuffled their way in. The walls had skillfully carved depictions older than the unification of Elyden itself, coupled with old scriptures from ancient myths and exotic eastern proverbs. Dominating the enlightened center of the room was a marble statue of the Hero himself, a yexara in one hand, and in his other, his spear raised to the six copper stars that were colorfully painted on the domed ceiling, contrasted by a dark paint made of the sacred ash. Henzil casually strided past the splendor, his eyes caught on the detailed bright visage of the original Hero, a sense of patriotism blooming in his heart, and a sense of pride sprang his every step as he found his way to the back hall, ended by a glamourous door encrusted with yellow and purple desert gems in the shape of a star. With a sturdy push Henzil entered the light flooded room alone, with only his flanking guards silently following him.

Inside the large heavily lit circular room, a large bright glazed wooden table sat lowly as round as the room on sandstone tiles, and around it was placed thick velvet cushions with gold laced at the seams. On top of these cushions sat The Stars, with only two pillows left bare; one of which being Henzil’s.

Henzil cut his observation short and quickly sat next to the Fourth Star, Frenki Shempul, a tall formal looking man who has proven himself a strong voiced commander in military schools as well as a clever man of numbers and competent jockey of the less exciting and tedious paperwork that came with his title. Bags were almost visible under the man's pale thin eyes, as if he had been up all night, but this was merely due to the dark crevices his angular face falsely presented, despite his healthy and well maintained state of well being, giving him a look as if he was always tired, or in a sense of minor pain.
 On the other side of Henzil sat the Sixth Star, Genri Aceroth, an older Ashishian, and adviser of Henzils grandfather as well as the oldest and wisest of the stars, a man of many turns as the wrinkles that carved themselves intrinsically into his aged face clearly showed, giving him the appearance of an old stone sculpture carved many years before any of the current Stars births.

Henzil sank into his cushion comfortably and his legs gave to a fuzzy warm feeling of relief from walking all day. The pleasant change and current relaxation caused him to completely forget about the other tribal leaders that were patiently staring right at him behind unblinking eyes. 
“Ah, Henzil Deprash has arrived,” Third Star, Dedrik Ophaven announced strongly almost demonstrating a smile. Dedrik was a true Ophaven, and one to look up to, Henzil thought. He was full of wit and intelligence, so much so that not a detail passed by unsecured by his gripping skepticism or strung out inquiries. As if to match and balance his mental prowess Dedrik stood broad shouldered and at five foot eleven, short for the common Ashtoken, but as strong as a bull in physical activities as well as is in a debate. His stout face matched his personality, with a flat forehead and strong jaw line, and the only thing that wasn't as rugged as a fuwma being his soft ocean blue eyes, that spoke of a hidden poet and romantic, lost in the blowing sands of the desert and time

 “Then we can begin,” An authoritative voice boomed deeply and with a charismatic nature, almost similar to Gori’s. This voice came from the Second Star, Gori’s cousin, Furnos Lamillur. Furnos was a tall and skilled soldier, and this statement was held true as it was seen many times over in the Great Gnoll war as well as in the sporting Loashti amphitheatres. The man had the same square jaw as Gori, and matching high cheekbones, but with speckling silver eyes instead of Gori’s pale blue. Furnos was a handsome and strong Ashishian, and had always been the exact opposite of an underdog his entire life, taking after the Lamillur name with the Ashtoken determination to always be better, stronger and smarter than one was yesterday, this of which, was held true when represented by Furnos.

“You should know that a letter has flown in from First Star Gori Lamillur,” Furnos continued officially, “It was encoded and written in old script, a summary of the Summit was included as well as important orders for our humble council.”

Furnos passed the letter to Dedrik for him to read while The Second Star continued, “His orders,” Furnos’ voice was set heavy like that of a commander in battle, “Were that we appoint a Day Star in his absence, as he has appointed First Marshal in these troubling times and will be absent on and off. He has also made a request for war preparation.”

Henzil who was handed the letter after the Fourth Star listened with a split dedication as he skimmed the paper with squinting eyes, “Excuse me Furnos Lamillur, but there is a request for desert sand and pitch to be shipped to the Lyonhall citadel,” Henzil looked up from the yellow paper with a raised brow on his gaunt face.

Furnos nodded with a blank face, “Indeed, to be shipped at once, and so it shall be.”
“Of course Second Star, forgive my interruption,” Henzil bowed his head humbly.
“Forgiveness is not necessary, we sit as equals, and your question is not without cause,” Furnos paused and looked up in thought, “I too questioned such a request, but then I read the bottom concerning a new policy against the Island Houses.”

Henzil scanned it quickly, still confused, he looked up. His eyes met with Genri’s ghost like pupils and with a few twitches of Genri’s face it all settled in Henzils mind comfortably, “I see, most wise,” he commented quickly, his thought process catching up with the others.

Frenki cleared his throat with a loud grunt, “So shall we begin our topics?” He stated more than questioned. Without protest from any of the others, the Fourth Star looked at Furnos, who had called the meeting, “Day Star,” he noted simply.

“The Voice of Ashtoken has thrown his nomination and recommendation to Sixth Star Genri Aceroth, of Kenero,” Furnos said officially. Genri held up his old wrinkled palm and closed his eyes, “I pass nomination to Furnos Lamillur, as I make a better advisor than a ruler,” His old eyes opened, almost blind with age. He continued an a rough whisper that caused Henzil to lean towards the man, “The Second Star has proven himself a worthy leader on many occasions and would make a sufficient substitute in The First Stars absence.”

Furnos bowed his head in a silent thanks to Genri, before lifting his head back up quickly, causing his sacred key, identical to Henzil’s and the other Stars, to slap against his heavy robes with a soft smack.
“All in agreement?” Furnos asked loudly. All five ashen palms flashed at Furnos in agreement.
“It is settled,” Furnos contently concluded, almost visibly flattered, “I accept the duty of substitute in the absence of The First Star, and remain as such until relieved by Gori Lamillur or disputed by my peers,” He paused and recollected his mental list. 

“Preparations for possible war?” He asked straightforwardly. This time Frenki Shempul spoke up, his falsely claimed tired eyes almost sparking a hint of life, “I suggest a mandatory training for all male citizens fit to fight, we are sharp and ready as always, but it doesn’t hurt to be even sharper.”

Genri’s raspy voice hushed as he spoke in agreement, “I add to the proposal, every male is obligated to report to his cities Officer and train in formation for two hours every day, volunteer border patrols will be insistent on increases and frequency, and the armory should be stocked with what it is missing, and improve what isn’t.”

Henzil spoke up, “how will this be enforced?” He asked quickly.
Furnos rebutted, “Esteemed Fifth Star, you forget the honor and duty of the Ashtoken. Enforcement will not be needed, our border patrols are strong, trained, and full of recruits by volunteers alone to keep the desert safe for travel. They wield their family yexara, and are supplied what little of the uniform is missing.” He continued, his sense of nationalism spewing from his mouth, “ We are a nation of dedicated citizens and obedient soldiers, our people will train and feel honored to do such as we request, and our smiths will gladly craft the deadly yexara, lances, and pikes that we may need, as our fuwma masters will provide to any fuwma needs, although of course this is not all free, it certainly will not be a crippling cost, nor an obstacle for the ever prepared and ready to fight Ashishian tribes. The same duty that keeps our patrols strong will form our preparation army, and if war is called, on a moments notice, they as well as us will form the great Ashtoken army” 

 Dedrik nodded in agreement, “Our Coffers still spill over filled with the remains of the spoils from the Great Gnoll war and our recent economic boom, our people are well versed in battle as it is, and laced with such fortunes, we are already ready for anything to come,” He looked around with his deep ocean blue eyes washing over his peers, “Shall the order be held and passed immediately?”

Six ashen palms presented themselves to conclude the topic in agreement. 
 “Then it is settled,” Furnos reiterated, “The Ashtoken people will be ready for any future levies and wars, both in a disciplined spirit as well as in a well trained body.”
 “Nothing less is expected of a child of the desert,” Genri Added in his shivering hoarse voice.

“Concerning request for shipment of pitch, and sand?” Asked Furnos, opening the final topic. Henzil was growing restless at this point, he found it slightly silly there even was going to be a debate on this, he knew as well as the others no one was going to deny Gori Lamillur his request. 
“I say ship it with haste,” Henzil called out, his voice shrinking in comparison with Furnos’. All eyes shot towards him, their stares were unintentionally like daggers to Henzil, and the feeling of being overwhelmed clogged his throat. With an audible gulp, he forced the anxiety down, “We should ship the requested supplies,” He continued repetitively, a bead of sweat formed on the back of his grey neck at the powerful presence of attention he was receiving. 
 “With a small caravan, and perhaps an armed escort,” he completed the thought, forcing the words out in stammers as his stage fright was digested into a soft boil at the pit of his stomach, causing it to rumble. Furnos nodded, ignoring the hunger sounds mercifully and remained considerate of his peer’s anxiety, “Formal, and standardized, a well agreeable motion,” He boomed, almost throwing Henzil backwards with surprise, “ and as I suspect there is no greater way to go about this, or the need to, I cast my vote under Henzil’s suggestion.”

The other four Stars nodded in agreement, and palms were raised once again, thus concluding the Council of Six meeting.

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There was a mistake, Switch the names of Dedrik Ophaven and Genri Aceroth. Dedrik is the older member, procurer of history and Hevi's old adviser. Genri is the shorter stout man.