"With great joy it is I hereby announce the commencement of the thirty-ninth meeting of this month."
Eldacar was truly living up to the hype, his annoyance tainting each word spoken, each breath taken.
It smelled sour at the table, so sour aged vinegar couldn't hold a candle against the heavy stench of opportunism. "Here we start again, Lefaye. Why do we even meet this often?"
The question wasn't one I could easily answer. For that, time was needed. Time we didn't have because of the ongoing meeting.
"For once, let's hear what the two have to say. Seem awfully sure of themselves. Let's just hope we aren't shoved into a political pitfall at the end of the day."
Avelyn refrained from whispering further, having more or less an idea of what we have to expect. "I shall start."
Inclining my head sideways, I waited for Eldacar to continue. The short elf decked out in full war gear wasn't one for longwinded discussions.
But that was already the best selling point, all things considered. "Intruder's sightings increase by the day.
No longer do we only have greedy merchants and their ill spawn on our hands. No longer are there merely cutthroats, sellswords and escapees we struggle with."
His hand landed heavily on the table, sharp fingernails grating against the wood. I hated that sound. which I was damn sure he knew.
"An evil mage, practitioner of demonic frippery resides in the west, making the Drayflyer Plateau his torture chamber."
I knew that the mage wasn't right in his mind. But what Duwende failed to mention as usual was that he pretty much minded his own business.
No elf had come to harm at his hands, nor were our interests overly impaired. "Then we got a whole raiding party to the south, making our rule a sad joke."
If only they would kill, capture, sequestrate or plunder and be gone afterwards. Their presence had reached the public, putting my faction under severe pressure.
Of course, Duwende wasn't oblivious to the favour of the hour. "Voices are heard, demanding an unmistakable response. An example has to be set."
Mostly the young and the fatuous did. But with the Great Prophet's lasting absence, their numbers only grew and ours shrank. "Please Elder Duwende, do not exaggerate...,"
Be that as it may, if I'd learned one truth in all these years as an elder, it was that playing the passive card while our chances were anything but noteworthy would condemn me to the sidelines next period.
"...our borders stand strong, the traps hardly sprung onto a daring misfit's intrusion. We have better things to do than wage a senseless war we lack the numbers to win."
This argument was an old hat. Compared to the Races, we were so fertile that each soldier dead could potentially cut off an entire prestigious bloodline.
Everyone and their lice knew it. Elder Duwende's fingers dug even deeper into the wooden table, betraying his anger.
Yet a politician he was nonetheless, keeping calm and an unreadable face. "So what do you suggest, Elder Lefaye?
Your proposal for internal development fostering prestigious greatness proves to turn us into sitting ducks.
Where are the soldiers when we need them? All brooding over trashy novels turned useless with the passage of time."
Now it was my turn to feel upset. A war could start at a moment's notice, scientific, magical or occult breakthroughs only after significant investure.
The latter demanded genius, the former merely short temper if not to say plain stupidity most sadly failed to lack.
In short, our voters were fans of the moment. They cared about results, cared about coolness or simply about plain old appearance.
Look greater than life, totally ballooned out of safe proportions and you were well set for the seat. Such was the state of our affairs.
"Elder Duwende, a consideration, please." Avelyn addressed the warmonger directly, yet her eyes never left Eldacar as if seeking his aid. He played hard to get as usual.
"If you absolutely must, there are pests eating away at the Great Tree." As if to underline the importance of her words, the treehouse shook greatly.
"This is not so pressing." Eldacar cleared his throat in response to his compatriot's ill-advised interpretation.
Opening his mouth as if to speak, he closed it soon after. The door had sprung open with force, announcing the intrusion of bearers of trouble.
My heart grew heavier at the sight of their expressions and identity. These were all soldiers under Duwende's direct order.
"What's the meaning of this?" Avelyn asked, eventually getting her answer. "A scout has returned from the west, her party nowhere to be seen."
And with an obvious scowl on his chiselled face, the high elf in striking armour added some absolutely undesired pieces of information I could've done without.
"A daemon did them in, demanding to see the Great Prophet." "What fucking scout is this incompetent?!"
Duwende crushed the table below his fingers, grinding the wood caught in his grip to dust. "A mere daemon standing up against trained professionals? Who is she kidding?"
And to all of us, he asked rhetorically, "it is us, no? This will have repercussions. But first," I knew what came next and sighed, "we need to make a statement.
The evil mage surely isn't innocent either, so look what your darn passivity has brought us, Lefaye!" That was it.
Even if we spoke up, hoping for him to reconsider... it'd do no good. Duwender had the law on his side, personal interest in the matter and the public's support.
Without the need to ask, I was sure that this scout had been paraded through the city, making it so that even high elves living under a rock found themselves informed.
"In this case, we might even ask the Great Prophet to intervene. She is—" Gesturing to Avelyn to keep the rest of her sentence to herself, I looked the other way when Duwende stared at us.
Asking the Great Prophet to return was the same as admitting our incompetence. Moreover, with her gone this long, her influence was about to erode completely.
If we were to call her back this close to the Perennial Prayer, I couldn't start to fathom just how great the political damage would be.
"We heard it all. Send the Silent Reapers and leave us to our discussion. The meeting cannot be suspended for a traitor in our midst and a mere daemon's emergence."
Of course, he wanted to rub this small victory in further, hoped to ride on the tide and get more concessions out of us. "Damn you, Duwende," I heard myself mutter sourly, cursing the day.