The Grand Council of the Singing Hive was in session and, as usual, Chyn'Ter'Vakin was not enjoying her job in the slightest. The chamber itself was impressive, unlike most the roof rose to dizzying heights above them and in the center was a massive dais upon which images and figures of myth had been carved. But it made an incessant echo and it was like having to listen to the same arguments over and over again. Like the other Grand Councillors, Vakin was sitting on an ornate rug lying on the floor, amid the small group of other Nyr'kiin who all also bore the light blue markings of the warriors' Grand Councillors. None of them were speaking at the moment, but Vakin could tell from the slight body movements and pheromones coming from them that they were feeling the same way as her.

"They argue over war without a single thought as to what it truly means," said one whose entire left side of his face was a deformed mass of chitin from where it had been mangled and healed improperly, "They would not be so quick to war if it were their Caste who would die."

"I honestly think some of them would, and that worries me more than anything," Vakin replied.

"I wish the idiots trying to get us to go east would shut their damn mouths," another added, "The Dratha are the real enemy; they're the ones who deserve to die."

Vakin was about to say something, when she was interrupted by a yell from one of the arguing Grand Councillors. One that was directed at the warriors. The pure white markings on her face and body identified her as one of the Priestly caste, but she was sitting noticeable apart from the Priests' other Grand Councillors. "Why do the Warriors not say their piece?" she asked, "Could it be they are frightened of war? Frightened to do their job?"

"You already know exactly what we think, Achk'Ter'Ichyn. We shall join the discussion you stop shouting and squabbling like nymphs," Vakin said, with the rest of the Warriors nodding their agreement.

"How dare yo-" began Ichyn, before she was interrupted by another of the Priests. She was obviously much, much older than anyone else present, and when she stood she required a sturdy stick to steady herself on. "Chyn'Ter'Vakin is right. You all shout and yell at one another as though the rightness of your words will translate into volume," she said, her words coming slowly, "It was not long ago that the Grand Council chamber was a place for civil discussion, at civil volumes. But thanks to this nonsensical talk of war..."

"It is not nonsense and you know it, Szyk!" Ichyn said, yelling once more, "If we do not prove to the Great Mother tha-"

"That is enough!" The elderly Szyk said sternly, but at a respectable volume, "This sacred chamber is not the place to preach your blasphemies, nor is this meeting the time."

"But you must admit that the Salished are weak, and that we are still but small," Ichyn said, having lowered her voice, "Do you not fear that if we do not grow in strength, that eventually the Dratha will overrun us?"

"We have defeated the Dratha before! We butchered their city and slew those who could not escape," came the voice of one of the other Warrriors.

"But we were stopped, and how many died for so little?" added the heavily scarred Warrior.

"Little? Zar Nyr has helped the Hive immensely!" said one of the other Grand Councillors, the deep blue of his markings showing him to be of the Sailors, "Far more trade and information comes in from the sea."

"Another reason this war is stupid," said one of the other Sailors, "The Dratha would no doubt blockade us. And what then? We would lose all of that trade for however long the stupid war would last."

"Which is why we go after the Salished! They have no ports nearby!" Said another voice, this time somewhat louder. And then came more and more voices, each one louder than the last until the Grand Council was once again a sea of squabbling children. Vakin sighed in irritation, "At least if they're arguing like this they won't ever come to a decision."

Then one of the Grand Councillors cleared his throat. It could barely be heard amidst the din of the Grand Councillors, but those few who did hear it ceased their talking, and stared at the one who had made the noise. Then, slowly but surely, the entire Grand Council room fell quiet and all eyes fell upon the Councillor. He was not an impressive man by any means, and Vakin couldn't help but think that if she passed him by she would never think twice about it. But she knew that was exactly what he desired, for the only things memorable about him were the pitch black markings applied to his carapace. Markings he would only wear to the Grand Council meeting, for they were what identified his Caste. And his Caste was that of the Hive's spies and assassins.

Slowly the man stood, looking around the room at the rest of the Grand Council before he spoke, "The Dratha march to war."

The entire room was silent once more as the information sank in, before he added, "Against the Salished."

It was but a moment before the Council was in an uproar again, and to Vakin's dismay they were mostly calls for blood and war. Even those who had wished for war against the Salished were calling for war against the Dratha now. She knew this day would come eventually, but she didn't expect it to come so suddenly and without warning.

Then she stood up, looking directly at the black-marked Grand Councillor, "Are you certain?"

The room went quiet again before he answered. He cocked his head, and there was a long moment before he answered her, "Do you doubt me?"

"You cannot blame me for wanting to make certain; it is our Caste who will march off to war."

"True enough, Chyn'Ter'Vakin. I do not blame you," he said, "But yes, I am certain. The Archmagister has levied the slave armies of the Drathan cities to march into the Rainlands. But only the Drathan cities."

"What exactly does that mean?" Ichyn asked, irritation clear in her voice, "Speak plainly."

"There is no need to be so rude, Achk'Ter'Ichyn. And I mean exactly what I said; only the Drathan cities have sent their armies. Archaeos is a different matter altogether."

"And how are they not just another Drathan city?"

"I will not bore you with the political status of Archaeos in the Drathan Union, but suffice it to say the Silent King is no mere Drathan Magister."

"Bah, what of it? Even if they have the armies of but a single city, they shall fall before our might," said one of the Warriors, and there were cries of agreement from all across the room.

"I simply deemed it prudent to share all I knew with the Grand Council," the black-marked Councillor said, before finally sitting down once more.

"Well, I feel it is clear where the desires of the Grand Council lies," Ichyn said, "And so I feel it appropriate to finally put this to a vote. Does anyone have any objections?"

"No!" Vakin said, nearly shouting, causing all eyes to turn to her. Her thoughts raced for a moment as the entire Grand Council room stared at her, and then finally something came to her. "Fellow Grand Councillors, would you not consider this vote one of considerable importance?" she asked, to which almost all murmured their assent.

"Achk'Ter'Szyk, is it not tradition that the Grand Council is given a night to think over their decisions when presented with a decision of such importance?"

The elderly woman chuckled before answering, "Why yes, yes it is Chyn'Ter'Vakin. The Grand Councillor shall vote on this tomorrow."

"What? No!" Ichyn complained.

"What, are you frightened that if they are given a chance to think it over the rest of the Grand Council will side against this war?"

"I-, no, I..." Ichyn said, attempting to think of something to say but failing.

"Good, then it shall be that tomorrow the Grand Council shall meet and it will be then that we shall make our decision," Szyk said, "Whether or not the Singing Hive shall march to against the Dratha once again."