[b][u]The Royal Palace[/u][/b]

The Royal Council chambers were usually vacant, save for a handful of guards meant to keep watch over the room. It was arguably the most boring post in the entire palace. Rows upon rows of empty seats, and before them were five thrones - the largest one in the middle, and made from solid gold, while the others were smaller and made out of silver. Three of the thrones were intended for the Dukes, and the fourth was intended for the Grandmaster Cleric. The largest one was meant for a King. The surrounding walls had massive murals depicting significant moments throughout Gara's history.

But today was different. The King, the three Dukes, and the Grandmaster Cleric all sat upon their thrones. The other seats were filled, from the highest Counts at the front and the lowest Knights at the back, the latter of which were allowed to observe but not speak. A few clergymen were placed here or there, having accompanied the Grandmaster Cleric. With so many important leaders gathered in one location, he ordinary guardsmen were replaced by the King's personal elite bodyguards, in much greater numbers.

Such meetings were only called during a crisis; a declaration of war, a rebellion, an assassination, a plague. But the crisis they faced today was entirely different. Many of the nobles whispered among themselves, nervously.

King Edward Veliath was approaching his thirties, but if not for his short light brown beard he could easily pass for a man in his early twenties. His eyes were a dark green, and his hair short and neatly combed. An ornate golden crown rested upon his head, and he was clad in a ceremonial robe befitting the occasion.

He stood, and raised a fist into the air. The room fell quiet. The King lowered his arm to his side, and then he spoke. "We have all heard the rumors coming from the south." He announced. "This... Colour, some have been calling it. An entire kingdom reduced to lunacy and ashes. We know not it's origin, but..."

The Grandmaster Cleric, Horatio Thaddeus, clad in his ceremonial religious attire, leaped to his feet and raised his fist in the air, requesting to speak. Although it wasn't explicitly forbidden to do so whilst the King was already speaking, it was considered extremely rude. The unexpected gesture briefly caught the King off guard, and his eyes narrowed at the insolent priest, who was only allowed to be seated there on account of tradition. Many in the room were equally caught off guard.

Nevertheless, the King continued his speech. "...but the Kingdom of Gara has stood strong for centuries, and weathered many a crisis. Whatever affliction has struck the land, we shall not succumb to it! The Protecter has guarded us since the beginning of time, and will continue to do so, for we are the true faithful - even if the rest of world is to fall prey to this madness, we will endure!"

Considering the seriousness of the occasion, it would be rude to cheer. However, the polite applause that would normally accompany such a speech was more akin to an audience that had just witnessed a theatrical masterpiece. The Grandmaster Cleric, however, remained standing with his fist raised, and the clergymen who had arrived with him most noticeably refrained from clapping.

Eventually, the applause faded. And although Thaddeus had already committed a great breach of etiquette by requesting to speak in the middle of another's speech, the King would be seen as even worse if he refused to acknowledge him. "Grandmaster Cleric." The King began at last, sitting back down on his throne. "You may speak."

The Cleric lowered his fist and cleared his throat. "You speak of the Creator as if you know his intentions, or are capable of interpreting his actions... but that is falsehood." He accused, which was accompanied by a large number of raised eyebrows and even a handful of gasps. "Only we..." he gestured to himself and the other priests, "...have even the barest understanding of His goals. The reality is that our One True Lord grows tired. The rest of the world has turned its back upon him." He paused, allowing the more fervently religious nobles to nod along - Duke Edwick among them. Others had bored expressions - it was nothing they had not yet heard before. Duke Torrin looked to be on the verge of falling asleep.

"But the Heretics are not the only ones at fault!" The Grandmaster Cleric suddenly spoke up again, his voice booming and immediately drawing back the attention of anyone who had begun to already tune out. "Our entire nation is to blame as well, for our failure to educate them! To bring them back to the Light! Indeed, there are many among us who are beginning to stray as well!" His eyes scanned the room, settling on well-known womanizers or those who had helped strip the Church of its power in the past. "It is this lack of Faith, that has allowed the Creator's power to wane! So much that the Destroyer has managed to slip past His guard and strike His creation! His infernal Taint has infected the land, and the only way to stop its spread is for the Creator to regain his strength, to one again have the support of his Creations, so that he may drive the Evil back! To that end, we must find these nonbelievers and educate them!" By this point his voice had turned into a yell.

The entire room was stunned. No one had expected such an outburst - not from a position that was barely even politically relevant these days. The Grandmaster Cleric slowly sat back down on his throne, his expression grim, but King Veliath and Duke Wilhelm were close enough to see him fighting off a smile. Duke Torrin was more shocked than anything else, while Duke Edwick was fully taken in by the Thaddeus's words.

Then, at once, several nobles stood, fists raised, each wishing for their turn to speak. With so many standing, not all of them would receive the chance to speak, so they did not wait for permission, and all spoke at once - either in protest or support of the Cleric's words. A reasonable few were offering suggestions of their own - secure the borders, send scouting parties to view the afflicted lands, and researchers to study it, but they were drowned out.

Sir Gerald and Sir Gareth, who had been seated next to each other, exchanged glances. While the King called for order, Sir Gareth whispered. "It would seem that His Holiness has found an opportunity to claw his way back into power." He suggested. Although they came from entirely different backgrounds, held entirely different careers, and were knighted for entirely different reasons, they had somehow become friends.

Sir Gerald could only nod. "Indeed." He stated in a gruff voice, rubbing a hand against his scarred chin, where an Alban blade had missed his throat by mere inches. "And if he has his way, we'll be in a holy war." He remarked bitterly. "Or he'll everyone bickering while the real threat nears our borders."

Unfortunately, neither of them could add their own opinions to the debate. The only reason they got away with speaking at all was because they could not be heard over the rest of the room. But eventually, the voices quieted, the nobles sat back down, and the King stood.

"We must stand united in the face of this crisis." He urged them. Since the Grandmaster Cleric was the highest ranking religious official, the King could not outright state that he was wrong on spiritual matters. Well, he could... but that generally prompted outrage. "Once again, we Garans are strong. We will endure. If the Grandmaster Cleric wishes to dispatch missionaries to convert the other nations, that is his right. But we will not force them to adopt the Creator's teachings against their will. In the meantime, the southern border is to be secured, scouts will be dispatched to the infected lands, and emissaries shall be sent to other nations to find out what they know. In the meantime, I task each and every one of you to lead your people well and stand by your countrymen." Then, before there could be any objection: "Council! Dismissed!"

With that, the meeting, perhaps one of the shortest in Garan history, was over.