13. Thirteen #3
“As I see it, we have a much simpler solution standing right before us,” Arthur argued, rising from his seat once more.
“Omen clearly wants his daughter, which gives the Council a distinct advantage. I propose we approach him and offer what he seeks. We use his daughter as leverage and force him to agree to terms that are favorable to the rest of the Realm.”
“Absolutely not.” A deep voice, steeped in command, barreled through Arthur’s reedy tenor.
It was Callan who had spoken, words measured but laced with disgust. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table before him, staring Arthur down.
“Are you truly such a coward that you would align yourself with evil and condemn an innocent simply to save your own skin?”
“Who are you to speak to me this way?” Arthur spat, glancing around at his fellow Nobles as though he’d been physically attacked.
“Callan Nyhauslen.”
Arthur’s face paled, his indignation shifting into unmistakable fear as his gaze settled on the hilt of the sword peeking out from behind Callan’s back. Clearly, he’d heard the tales of Aemoria’s Blade.
“Please, Lord Arthur, sit.” Thorn tugged on Callan’s shoulder and urged him to take his seat as well. “My nephew has little regard for etiquette, but I agree with his sentiment. There is no bargaining with Omen.”
Arthur sat once more but scowled at Callan across the table.
“I’m in agreement with our allies in Nivali,” Nox began, claiming the attention of the room.
“I will face my brother’s forces alone if I must, but I will not, under any circumstances, allow my niece to come to any harm.
For too long the territories of Aemoria have closed ranks and closed borders in response to Omen’s aggression.
If the Council had exercised its power and unseated my father centuries ago, perhaps Omen would never have become who he is today. ”
There were some low grumblings from the members who had held Council seats when Nox’s mother petitioned for protection and was denied.
“Do we have any sense of how large Omen’s army is?” Samira asked.
“I don’t have a precise count, but I estimate the number of Enchanted is roughly a thousand,” Bryn replied.
“That’s hardly a match for our combined forces.” Siris chuckled dismissively.
“Our numbers are greater, but the Enchanted are not normal soldiers who fall when struck with an arrow or cut by a blade,” Bryn explained.
“When Bryn attacked me, nothing deterred her,” Nova added. “Not even my dagger. To kill the Enchanted, one must deal a death blow: remove the head or pierce the heart.”
“We mustn’t forget Omen’s ability to control dark creatures. Lycane. Yaesira. Repera. He would certainly rely on his beasts in battle,” Bryn said.
Nova made a mental note to ask Bryn what sort of animal repera were. Lucan took a step forward, hands held out before him as if to convey he posed no threat to the uneasy Nobles.
“Not sure if this goes against etiquette, but I thought I should also mention that we believe a crew of several hundred mercenaries from the north of Silvergard have joined with Omen.”
“I must say, you’re not painting a very enticing picture,” Siris tsked.
He tapped his fingertips on the tabletop as he considered.
“Band together to face an army of nearly invincible soldiers and vicious, bloodthirsty beasts in the hopes that you might be able to either break a curse or best the Shadowbringer in hand-to-hand combat? Sounds like a gamble to me.”
Nova clasped her hands behind her back, rubbing her ring’s smooth white stone in an effort to calm herself.
“I understand your reluctance. But Omen knows I exist and has already taken actions to eliminate me as a threat. The attack on Pyralis, where I resided for weeks when I first arrived in Aemoria, was no coincidence. His efforts to build alliances with forces outside of Raven’s Isle are evidence he’s actively planning something.
“You can all leave here today, weave stronger shields, close your borders, and wait to react—not if, but when Omen comes for you. Your territory. Your subjects.” She paused and looked at the Nobles gathered around the table.
“Or, you can join us and act. Challenge Omen on our own terms, and defeat him once and for all.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the hall once she finished making her impassioned plea for the Nobles’ cooperation. An overwhelming urge to look at the floor—to disappear—seized her, but she kept her head held high. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Thorn spoke.
“Very well said.” He nodded and rapped his knuckles lightly on the table.
“If no one has anything else to add, I believe we can adjourn. You all have a great deal to consider and a very important decision to make. Still, there is much to be done. Therefore, I ask that you contact me with your answers in a fortnight.”
Arthur rose from his seat and stormed toward the doors as soon as Thorn finished speaking.
Riven glanced around the room apologetically before following after him.
Weariness washed over Nova, as if she’d been treading water and barely keeping her head above the surface from the moment she entered the meeting.
She offered a thin smile and a low bow to the remaining Nobles before taking her leave as well.