The magnificent door leads to an equally impressive room, a large wide semicircular expanse. On the far side from the entrance is the long, straight side, where directly in front of the gateway lies the high throne from where the emperor enforces his will. Opposing it, along the curved walls, are five rows of seats divided in the middle by the passage from where guests coming through the door can reach their assigned seatings.
Just like in one of the ancient great amphitheatres of the lost times, the audience from the bleachers usually is the main source of noise, discussion and divide. This time is no exception, on the contrary, the chaos and confusion is even greater than usual; everything is out of the ordinary. Be it the delay, be it the disarray, be it the lack of information, but mainly the absence of the most important individual of all, the emperor.
Usually his highness would await for the participants of the Unswerving council already seated on his rightful throne, but the moment the first ones step inside they find the seat vacant.
Just like the delay, this is the first time ever. Without him surrounded by the imperial family, the room assumes an unsettling spectral tone; the gold-chiseled marble columns, the lavish red blood carpet, the awe-inspiring banners and the sumptuous coloured windows are left with nothing to be compared to, with no one to symbolize the wealth of.
Slowly all the seats are occupied, all but the one.
In this particular event social standing determines one's row of seats; the Wartners, having lost quite a bit of influence compared to their glorious past, have now taken a seat on the third file. Tullivan is comfortably sitting right before them on the second while Shtern can be found on the very first line; here, closest to the throne, are allowed to be only twelve people, the most renowned and capable nobles.
Being all the aforementioned names part of the Nobles of the Sword, they await for the emperor on the right wing. Opposing them on the left bank from the entrance are instead the nobles of the jewel. The difference can be seen not only in position, but also in appearances; most of them are merchants, bankers, usurers and so on, because of their profession they tend to come from all corners of the known and less known word; they are the most ethnically diverse group, since the others are mainly from the core regions.
One other very noticeable divide is in their clothing. The latter, being extremely rich, tend to show off wearing the most precious and refined jewels, hence the name. The sword nobles, on the contrary, share the unwritten custom to remain and dress humbly during meetings with the emperor, to uphold their sworn loyalty to his Highness, metaphorically showing no intent to surpass the crown. Through times breaking this rule became synonymous with openly disagreeing with the emperor; that being said recently, thanks to new policies and public work, no one has yet to complain.
« Wait, is't Cassian wearing all those golden jewelry? »
« Yes, you see, Father Tullivan is here firstly as a Bishop, secondly as a Noble. So him wearing the 'Golden Circle' is just him pretending to be devote »
« Ahh, so by doing this he can still be loyal to the emperor while showing off. Got it! »
« No… that's not what I meant… either way, let's continue »
Initially everyone assumes that some minor inconveniences are hindering the arrival of Allan qui Herskerg, also known as Allan the mild. He gained this epithet for his political efforts aimed to appease both swords and jewels. A far cry from the very one-sided and biased figures that preceded his rule; but his kindness reflects in the lack of a strong fist and manifests in the current situation. The power of the capital is less felt the further you go from Antaria, it's no surprise that since 1001 a.r. the Order, which managed to declare sovereignty by annexing all the territories surrounding Luxia, is yet to face repercussions.
As the minutes go by, not even the Council Grand Room is large enough to contain the rising tension, noble men and women are in clear disapproval of the treatment they are receiving. Rumors are a natural consequence of these sorts of events but at this very moment they are running out of control; the stares of rage and fury are taking the toll on the powerless guards who all the same know nothing of the situation.
-Where is he!-
-What happened?-
-He better have a good explanation for this-
-This is just embarrassing-
The voices from whispers turn into shouts, not one is pleased by the emperor, not one is concerned for the emperor. The soldiers standing in the room, despite their strong will to silence affronts towards his Highness, can do nothing as they know very well that their loved ruler doesn't have the power to defend them against the nobility if something were to happen. Suddenly amongst the Jewels one stands up.
"I've had enough! This is ridiculous! Despite him being the emperor, how can he let us all wait?"
It's count Philipp, known dwarven merchant and master of the Noth-Eastern route; he could buy a higher title without breaking a sweat but refrains fearing higher taxes.
"Cool off Jorg, maybe something big just happened"
Replied Count Pelka, another dwarf merchant, brother in affairs of the former.
"Still! If he at least sent someone to tell us it would be fine! All he needs to do is send some guy saying: I have something to do, please wait. And that would be fine! But we know nothing, nothing!"
"That's exactly why I think something real big came up"
Despite their crude vocabulary they still have a valid point. Being that even after more than a quarter of an hour no word has come from the top.
Open discussion spreads across both sides with no clear reasonings, other than insults, remarks on wealth, origin and even ethnicity. What started as mutters are now so loud that the soldiers standing on the other side of the magnificent door can hear the conversation so clearly that they are even able to distinguish who's speaking.
-Shut up you damn overgrown ape! All you have is because your great great grandfather happened to do something cool in front of Kiriss the Conqueror!-
-Silence you illiterate beastman! All you can boast is your riches since you have nothing else!-
-I'll show you how an illiterate beast has much more guts than you, coward!-
-Is that how you settle matters in your barbarous herd? Fine! I'll take you on!-
Says one while throwing his glove into the other's face. Enraged, they both come down from the last rows to face off when suddenly a voice halts them immediately.
"Get back to your seats, now"
The two stand in awe before the seated figure that since then hasn't spoken. A long sunset red dress, a motiv of golden flowers and filaments of pure silver. Long deep-night black hair and bright-cobalt blue eyes. A woman in her thirties, she is marquise Auree de la Foix.
She is beautiful, gorgeous one would say, but her real stunning is not in beauty but in commerce; She controls all of the ferries from the mainland of the empire to its greater overseas territory, Braux. An Island so vast that it composes slightly less than one third of the Holy Kuraurean Empire, just by knowing this it's immediately clear how important the position of the Marquisate of Soleil is, an island situated in the middle of the Braux strait that divides the two lands; officially ruled by marquis Andrue de la Foix but in practice exemplarily administered by his wife.
Listening to such menacing command the two quietly and humbly walk back to the fifth row, where they belong. But despite the effort the situation doesn't seem to be quieted down. Sensing the possibility of an uncontrollable escalation that not even the armed guards could control, the marquise remarks to his husband.
"This doesn't look too good, does it dear?"
"Hmm, yes you are right, let's just hope things don't get any worst"
Quite dissatisfied with the man's answer, she nudges Andrue right under the ribs. Understanding the subtle hint he gets up and walks from his seat in the first Jewel file to the centre of the room, where speeches are usually given.
A man in his late thirties with the first signs of aging; timid in posture and face, bold in speech and soul. As he steps on the podium illuminated by the feeble light coming from the coloured windows the crowd goes quiet as they realise the childishness in their behaviour; one after the other they return to their posts, some even asking for forgiveness to the ones they insulted.
"Ladies. Gentlemen. I fully understand and share your confusion, but as of now we can do nothing but wait. I myself will go and seek an answer, whatever that might be. In the meantime I ask you not to cause any commotion, nor to vent your frustrations on the loyal men that are standing as guards; as they themself know nothing about the current situation, just like us"
Having delivered the simple yet effectivespeech many from the bleachers nod in approval, some applause, others just stay silent. Auree is visibly satisfied by his husband's success in calming the waters.
"Who is he, Father?"
"It's Marquis Andrue de la Foix, I didn't see him during the banquet, otherwise he would have been one of the firsts I would have presented you to"
"But, he's from the Jewels side"
"Dear son, there's still so much you need to know about politics… In reality the line that divides Jewels and Swords is much more faded than what you immagine. Take for example Duke Shtern: He's extremely rich, and the duchy of Insolum is one of the wealthiest amongst lands and seas, that being said he's the finest example of Nobility of the Sword. Proud and virtuous he openly despises the great majority of the Jewels, de la Foix being one of the few Jewel households he respects. On the contrary some of our nobles from the Sword are so poor or decadent that their whole fief could be brought with the revenue of just one month of shipments coming from the 'Clam Coast'. But don't worry, over time you will get to understand more this intricate landscape"
As they speak the marquis, escorted by an imperial guard, goes through the magnificent door in search for the truth, looking for someone, looking for the emperor. Meanwhile in the room the stress has calmed down as the first refreshments are being served by order of Andrue to prevent any more discussions among the guests, by keeping their mouths occupied.
After not more than 10 minutes the distinguished noble comes back with someone. It's Empress Mathilda. As she steps into the room all the nobles stand up and honour her presence, but unlike usual she does not waste time and goes directly to the point.