"Gaol foretold your arrival, Lord Bulsteighn. It is why we waited until now to hold this council meeting; it is one of utmost importance--let that be clear to everyone in this room. As those sitting at the pinnacle of this illustrious kingdom, equaled by none, it is our responsibility to use our best judgment to aid Mastorn and the King in the right direction. Let us commence."
As sickly and small as he looked, the old man's words found no rebellion in their meaning--by his own speech, the meeting had begun itself.
The Council of The Wise...to sit in on one of these meetings--I almost feel like throwing up; the divine aura, the exuberance, the authority! Gah--what am I thinking...just breath, Lloyd, breath! He thought.
There was little Lloyd could do besides simply stand behind his seated superior like some sort of butler, standing tall like a shivering statue.
"Now, Gaol, recount what it is you sensed culminate from the assault on Grandueve?"
