The servants moved silently through the grand hall of the council chamber, their footsteps muffled by the rich carpets underneath their feet. The scene before them was one of gross waste: the Arbiters lying around in a drunken slumber, wine-stained robes clinging to their bloated forms, scraps of food scattered around their feet.
Years of servitude had hardened the servants, their faces once full of dreams now expressionless as they cleared the mess. But beneath their quiet demeanor glowed a well of resentment. For years, they had been treated as nothing more than tools—beaten, humiliated, and discarded when no longer useful. And now, their oppressors lay before them, oblivious and vulnerable.
