His eyes closed, a deep furrow across his brow, the council member at the very center of the chamber sat quietly and gathered his thoughts as the others argued. His hands wrapped themselves firmly around the hilt of his blade, resting on a fiery red gem at the base as the still-sheathed weapon lie between his feet. Just as Neon and company turned, preparing to leave the chamber and travel to the scene of the crime, a loud clacking sign echoed throughout, halting their advance.

“Council is in session.” Ardal said, a firmness in his voice.

“But surely...” Justica began to protest before being abruptly cut off.

“As members of the council of the righteous, we men and women have a single sworn duty: to uphold the law and mete justice with an even hand, no matter the circumstances. The loss of a council member is tragic, and there will be great mourning for his loss in the days to come, but war is at our door.”

Ardal slowly raised his sword, gripping the sheathe with one hand and the hilt with the other until it was fully horizontal. Slowly, he drew the blade, a faint warm hue emitting from the blade. Carved along each side was an ancient phrase that read “The dead cannot cry out for justice. Such is the duty of the living.” The room almost immediately began to warm, and Doragon rattled in protest. Holding the blade gently, as if it would shatter at any moment, Ardal stood and slowly spun the blade. “This is Arach, the blade of Adil, former king and peacemaker of the Seraphim people. It has been passed down, generation after generation, from father... to son.” 

Placing the blade gently back into the hold, Ardal gazed directly at the council, a fiery passion burning in his eyes. “I swear upon the blade of my ancestor, Justice will be served.” With a click the sword was fully sheathed, while simultaneously the doors to the chamber slammed shut, “but first, the matter at hand. Council, as arbiter of this chamber and one true heir, I ask that you cast your votes. Do the Seraphim people allow the matters of men and daeva to resolve themselves? Or do we go to war.”

With Vates no longer present, Neon gathered the council leaned towards going to war. The gently balance of opinion had been overthrown, and the hawks had the advantage. One vote for. One against. Justica held firmly to her stance on protecting the seraphim people, while Libertas stood to oppose her. Ardal recused himself from the vote, leaving only Macto. The seraphim mused heavily, the full weight of his vote apparent to the older man. He considered heavily the words of Kayla and the council, as well as his own research on the matter. His eyes rested on Neon, and their gazes met. Her head fell into her hands even before Macto spoke. She had seen everything she needed to know in his eyes.

War.

“So be it.” Ardal said firmly, not a hint of wavering in his voice. It is the decision of the council of the righteous, on this the fourth new moon, that the Seraphim, in the matter of assisting humanity in the eradication of the Daeva people as a final effort at eradicating feralism, do find that...”

“Wait!” Torva shouted.

Justica gasped audibly, covering her mouth with her hand. Never before had anyone dared to interrupt the council, let alone during their ruling. It was more than unheard of, it was an insult of the highest order. “Not every vote has been cast!” the wolf shouted, stepping ahead of the group and squarely into the center of the chamber. All eyes of the council fell harshly on the daeva, but it was Justica who spoke first. “We all are accounted, lest you are incapable of counting, [i]dog[/i]” she added, malice in her voice. “Unless you would dare to stomp on the memory of our comrade in suggesting his vote requires counting.”

Realizing the terrible break in protocol he had performed, Torva stuttered momentarily, never intending to violate the council's rules, especially when it was only through special request that he had even been allowed to attend. “Of course not. The vote of the former Keeper of Stories could not possibly be tallied, but...” he said, gambling heavily on Ardal's sense of order, “and yet the council remains one vote shy.”

Torva glanced over his shoulder at Hagumi, giving her a sad smile before turning to face the council once more. “You vote on the eradication of my people, a matter so serious it is cause to delay investigation into the murder of one of your own. It is entirely because of this matter that a missing vote cannot be accepted.”

Ardal leaned forward, resting his hands on his blade once more. “Go on, wolf...”

“Lady Hagumi has been nominated for a seat, has she not? Let her take the trials. Allow her to perform for you the seven wonders. If she passes, she may provide the additional vote. If not... I suppose it won't be long before I see her again.” Torva said quietly, remembering what her mother had said of the risks involved. 

Once more Justica rushed to protest, but was once again silenced by Ardal's firm command. “I understand your concern,” he began, addressing what he knew was going to be Justica's objection, “but if Lady Hagumi is capable of performing the wonders... IF she earns the right to sit among us, then her judgment on all matters is to be considered as fair and even-handed as any other member. I loathe to seat another on Sir Vates' chair while it yet remain warm, but the wolf makes a compelling point. We speak of eradicating over a third of the world's population. We owe any innocents what scant few hours  we can offer to ensure the most fair vote possible.”

Taking a deep breath, Ardal pointed Arach at Hagumi and Doragon rattled once more. “I accept your proposal. The trials will begin immediately, should the candidate accept.” With piercing eyes that cut through Hagumi's like lightning in a storm, he once again removed his ancestor's blade from it's sheath. “What say you?”