The Council met once a week in one of the kingdomâs grand dining rooms, which had long been repurposed for that exact event. Once a place where nobles and knights had gathered for banquets, the room was now a place of order and debate.
In total, there were ten people in the Council, each seated around a long rectangular table polished to a dull shine by years of use. The air always carried the faint scent of parchment and old wine, a reminder of how much time passed inside these walls.
There were particular rules for those who sat on the Council. At any time, if the other members decided that there was no longer confidence in one of their own, they could hold a vote of no confidence to remove that member from their seat. To do so, one needed at least eight votes, more than a simple majority. It was a rule designed to keep the Council united, not divided.
Thankfully, it was something the kingdom had faced only once in its history. It wasnât a practice they wished to repeat. When it did happen, the public, those who lived under the kingdomâs rule, were the ones who decided who should take the vacant seat. They did this through their votes, a rare act of shared power between the rulers and the ruled.
It was important for the people to believe in those who led them, to trust the chosen members who shaped their future. Even so, it remained incredibly difficult for anyone to go against the Councilâs word. Their decisions carried the weight of law and legacy.
When such a change did occur, or when someone stepped down from their post, the people often asked the remaining Council members for their suggestions. Many citizens simply followed those suggestions, some out of fear of what might happen if they didnât, and others because they genuinely believed that only the Council could know what was best for the Council.
That was how things were. Order built on trust, trust balanced on tradition.
Today was one of those meeting days, and when Gary Bluebird walked into the room, he felt an unexpected warmth spread across his chest. His gaze landed on a woman with silver hair and a beautiful, welcoming smile.
âItâs been a while, Sylvia. How are things going for you?â Gary asked as he approached. His tone was lighter than usual, the tension of politics softening in her presence.
âIt has indeed,â Sylvia replied with a small laugh. âItâs a little hard getting used to heading into the Council room again. You know I took a break from this whole thing for a while.â
âRight, to look after your children, wasnât it? How are the two of them?â
âThe two boys...â Sylviaâs voice softened, her eyes carrying both pride and worry. âWell, itâs hard to call them boys anymore. Theyâve both been quite busy being adventurers, out there running their own guilds. I get updates from time to time, but I canât help but worry about them as a mother. Still, they come visit me at least once every six months to show that theyâre doing fine.â
Bluebird let out a laugh at that, shaking his head. âThe two of them are strong. They might even be stronger than me, so I really doubt you have anything to worry about.â
âRight, right,â Sylvia said with a playful grin. âAnd thatâs why weâre sending you out to the Furlow Kingdom instead of a Knight Captain, is it?â
Turning his head, Bluebird saw another familiar face entering the room, a tall, lean woman with long dark hair and piercing golden eyes. Those eyes were the most striking thing about her. They had the kind of presence that could silence a crowd. This woman was Martha, someone Gary Bluebird knew very well.
âWe already sent a Knight Captain there,â Martha said, her voice even but carrying authority. âAnd they havenât returned. The kingdom is still complaining that thereâs more to be done. They say if we donât get to the bottom of this, it could affect the whole of Bronzeland, just like the Shadow Plague.â
Bluebird sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. âThatâs exactly what theyâve said. The request keeps coming in. If we ignore it, the unrest could spread.â
âHa!â Martha let out a sharp laugh. âTo say thereâs a threat as big as the Shadow Plague, thatâs crazy talk. It doesnât even make any sense. There will never, throughout history, be another instance like the Shadow Plague! A couple of strange reports and now the people are panicking.â
âRegardless,â Bluebird replied evenly, âI do have to go.â
The conversation drifted as more members of the Council began to arrive, their steps echoing lightly across the stone floor. The seats filled one by one, and the room grew alive with chatter.
Bluebird made his way around, speaking to each of them in turn, asking about their lives and their work. Many were old friends, people he had trained with or fought beside in the Knightâs Academy years ago. A few were newer faces, people who had risen through the ranks after his time.
The air before a Council meeting always felt the same, half serious, half personal. Laughter and conversation softened the edge of what would later turn into reports and strategy. It was how they warmed the room before the formality took over.
But even while chatting, Bluebirdâs gaze drifted now and then toward an empty seat near the far end of the table. The chair stood untouched, its back carved with a faint wolf emblem.
Thatâs the seat Jack always sits at, Bluebird thought, a crease forming on his brow. Donât tell me somethingâs wrong. Thereâs no way heâd miss this without reason.
The sound of the large doors swinging open interrupted his thought. Every head in the room turned toward the entrance.
For a brief moment, they all thought it was Jack walking through those doors, the familiar heavy steps, the quiet presence that commanded attention. But instead, a blond-haired man appeared, his hair spiked up nearly two fists above his head. His movements were crisp, practiced, and formal.
He stopped at the doorway and gave a small, respectful bow.
âI am here as a representative of the Red Wing Werewolf Division and of Councilman Jack Dem,â the man said, his voice steady but polite.
****
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