Codex Mortem

Decisions

Taria

In the heart of Taria, the ancient castle stood proud, looming over the land and the sea with its white walls and high towers. In and around the castle, life went as usual. People of all ages and sizes moved up and down the streets, some with purpose, some without.

At the highest point of the central tower, the Eye watched restlessly in the four points of the horizons where the Northen, Southern, Eastern and Western Eyes guarded the borders of the small, yet unconquered kingdom.

Touching the sun-shaped brooch, the old man peered up at the cloudless sky. He murmured something under his short, white beard and increased his pace, disappearing into the impressive building with his tall walking stick.
...

"Shall we-"The question was brought to a halt by the violent knock on the door.

A grey robe fluttered in the air as a mid-aged man left his seat at the round table and walked to the door, opening it.

The old man entered slowly. He stopped and leaned his slim weight on the stick for a few moments, panting and wheezing.

"You are late, elder Crenn." one of the other four elders said with a grimace.

"What is that?" the old man shouted, narrowing his eyes towards the table, to see better who has spoken.

"You are late!" the old woman, Marcy repeated in a louder voice, obviously irritated.

"Bah! Why was I allowed to get old if I'm not allowed to be late?" He sauntered to the table and claimed his chair, still breathing hard.

There were five elders in the council, each one of them with a grey robe pinned under the neck by a sun-shaped brooch.

The sixth chair was for the black robe, the leader of Taria. She shifted in her seat and, instead of laughing, the young woman bit the inside of her cheek.

Elder Crenn's brown, warm eyes jumped from her face to all the elder's faces. With his shaky hand, he grabbed the cup in front of him and sipped.

"Any flowers on the rivers? Any songs in the winds?" he asked.

"Not so far... Only bare twigs, honourable council. With dents in them." Elder Marcy replied, her voice low and sad now.
"Another lost added to the many." One of the other grey robes concluded. "Nix I suppose?"

The woman nooded slowly.

"Shall we begin?"

Everybody looked at lady Ewinn, waiting. She clasped her hands together and commenced.

"I summoned you here, today, to talk about Dirae."

"About Dirae?" an elder asked, unsure if he heard correctly.

"What about it?" other wondered?

"It's been a year since I took on the black robe." the leader stated. "But it is only recently that I have come across some old letters- two of them precisely, from the werewolf king."

All the elders lowered their eyes, all except the white beard bearer.

Lady Ewinn looked at each one of them, realization pouring over her face.

"Of course you knew about this." She concluded. "Only that somehow you failed to inform me."

"We didn't think it wise to-" the woman in grey robe was cut by a stick tapping loud on the stone floor. The others cleared their throats.

"You didn't think it was wise to." elder Crenn's loud voice covered the room. "You. And you." He said, pointing his blueish, shaking finger towards the occupied chairs. "And you. And you!" He then looked at their lady. "But not me."