Images flooded Qrow's mind, the dream returning with full force. The void, his brother's griffin, and, most hauntingly, that smile—all crystal clear, no longer obscured by the fog of sleep. Qrow could sense, hear, and feel everything. The terror from the dream reemerged, and for the first time, he acknowledged it as more than just a dream—it was a message.
Rashom approached, kneeling beside Qrow. "Son, are you alright?" Genuine concern filled his voice. Qrow struggled to articulate his thoughts, his mind scattered in various directions, attempting to make sense of it all.
"I... I have seen... I have seen that before," Qrow stammered, shaken by the realization. A nightmare had transcended into reality. Dizziness washed over him, but a moment later, a sweet taste lingered on his lips. An elixir flowed down his throat, but it wasn't from his father. Before him stood Fuju, holding a peculiar bottle in his mouth. Confused by Fuju's presence, Qrow watched as he winked, making him uneasy. Fuju spat out some liquid he hadn't swallowed and stepped back.
"What the hell are you doing?" Qrow exclaimed. Fuju looked down at the spilled liquid on his shirt.
"What a waste," he lamented, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Such a beautiful tonic I had concocted gone to waste." Qrow drew his dagger in response, but his father restrained him.
"Qrow, it's alright. Fuju was giving you a tonic to clear your mind. How do you feel?" Rashom tried to soothe Qrow, who indeed felt calmer and more focused.
"What was that? What exactly was it?" Qrow inquired.
"Elixir of calm emotions," Fuju replied, wiping his shirt with a handkerchief. "I sensed something had unsettled you, so I thought this elixir might help. It seems you have information the group needs to know." Fuju scrutinized Qrow, as if examining his soul. Qrow grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between loyalty to Fearsh and the potential harm divulging information could cause.
"Qrow, it's alright. If you know something, you need to tell us," Rashom reassured him. With the calm emotions settling in, Qrow's mind cleared, giving him time to carefully choose his words.
"The night after Haldrin died, I had a dream. I was in his room, and that smile appeared on his back. It spoke to me, saying it had a plan but didn't know if I'd live long enough to see it happen," Qrow admitted, concealing some details and altering the timing. A grim expression overcame Rashom's face.
"Why didn't you tell me about this dream?" Rashom's tone held a hint of anger, surprising Qrow.
"I thought it was just a simple nightmare. I didn't know I needed to report my experiences to you, father," Qrow replied pointedly, acknowledging the strained history between him and his father.
"He had a dream... sounds very familiar to Samusara way back in the day," Fuju remarked, glancing towards the Skutsamling of Limgren.
"So the little Enguvil has had a dream?" she answered, maintaining a smug demeanor. "Well, what did he see? Raes Heth has been..." She stopped abruptly, her face dumbfounded for a moment before erupting into laughter. The intensity of her laughter, the slamming of her hand on the table, and the fury in her eyes left Qrow stunned.
"HELL NO!" she yelled, her voice amplified to the point where Qrow feared his ears might bleed. The only comparison he could draw was to the screech of his Chimera, Tetanus.
"I will never allow the Zerlif Council to be formed again!" she declared, enraged. "Has this been your plan all along, Rashom? Do you remember the last time this council was formed? Or have you become decrepit in your old age?" Insults were hurled at Rashom, who weathered them with stoicism.
"I will not deny that this is my intention. There is a threat that exists in the world that we do not fully understand. By the laws of the center isle, I have the right to propose that a council of heirs is formed to investigate and destroy the threat without having to worry about nations and borders," Rashom calmly explained.
"And I have the right to deny your claim! Who did you think would support you in this endeavor?" Samusara scoffed. "You knew I would never go along with this idea, you know that the Sentinel would never send his heir. So how did you think that this council would ever be formed?"
"I will support the council," the Sentinel interjected. Qrow welcomed the interruption, especially as it silenced the Skutsamling. "But it is also not our decision; it is theirs. The heirs get to choose if the council will be formed."
All eyes turned to Qrow. Though prepared, the weight of the decision was daunting. The room, filled with expectant gazes, made it impossible for him to retreat into the shadows. Despite lacking magical abilities, Qrow tapped into a power within himself—an innate intuition honed through years of street-smart observation. Deep within, orbs of strength awaited, each with distinct characteristics. Qrow selected one, feeling inspiration surge through him, guiding his words.
"The Sentinel is correct," Qrow asserted, regaining his composure surprisingly quickly. "It is up to us. As for myself, I haven't always been in the good graces of the Enguvil or Fearsh. Many of you have lived in your households for years, having more right to decide than I do. I leave it to you, my fellow heirs. Whatever you decide, I will go along with it." Qrow's sincere tone resonated with everyone in the room. Using these mysterious orbs of power had become second nature to him—they helped him navigate the streets and manipulate situations to his advantage. The particular orb he held now allowed him to say the right things convincingly.
The Skutsamling Rashom, however, did not share the general sentiment. Qrow recalled their conversation on the ship, where Rashom had attempted to convince him to lead the council. However, Qrow was cautious about blindly fulfilling his father's desires without fully understanding his intentions. Giving the decision to the others, the skeptics, might provide insights into what he was signing up for.
"Well," Prometheus of Xerxes spoke up first, "There is evidence to suggest that there truly is a threat to the world. As such, the tenets of the old world are clear—the heirs to the demigods' blessings are supposed to band together and snuff out the threat."
"I agree," Varithorn of Niepe added, his raspy voice resonating. "As one of the only true heirs here, this is a threat that affects all of us. Each of our countries has been affected. While I don't believe a council is the most effective method, it is the only way to have a group that can cross borders with immunity to the laws of the countries they are entering." The other Niepe delegates nodded in agreement.
A lute strum interrupted the discussion, and everyone turned to Gar
us, who was beaming as he played. "Well, I think the choice..." The Skutsamling abruptly grabbed his lute and smashed it on the ground, glaring at Garus. Undeterred, Garus pulled out a second lute and continued strumming.
"While delegates from my country may want me to decline the call that has been set before me, I have never had the pleasure of going on a world tour!" Garus exclaimed. "People around the world will get to hear me perform? LIVE? I could never miss this opportunity."
Prometheus expressed his support for the council, and the room's attention turned to Rijin, one of the final two to voice an opinion. "We do not know each other, we do not trust each other, and diplomatic immunity is enticing. But that gives all the more reason to be hesitant," Rijin remarked. The heirs looked to their parents and rulers, acknowledging the shared sentiment. "I am not naive enough to believe each of you has the interest of others as your primary goal."
Lia pressed him, asking if he supported the council. "I will support the forming of the council, but I do not trust any of you, as I do not expect any of you to trust me. Our countries have been at war for years. I cannot let my guard down just because we are forming a team," Rijin declared.
Lia chuckled, challenging his stance. "So you do not trust any of us, you do not expect us to trust you, but you are in favor of the council being formed? What is in this for you? The Midoken's legacy is one of oppression and war; teamwork just is not in your blood."
Rijin pondered for a moment, unfazed by Lia's insults. "Well, there is bureaucracy. There is a threat that must be dealt with, and according to the laws of our world—though we know very little about it—to accomplish our goal, we must form this council. Besides, I have not gotten to spend much time at sea." Qrow, like everyone else, found Rijin's last statement puzzling.
"Lia, you are the only one who has not voiced an opinion," Qrow addressed her. "Any thoughts on the matter?"
"I do," Lia responded. "I think this is a horrible idea." She directed her gaze at Rijin. "I think the idea that we have to work together as a team, a group, comrades when none of us know each other, and the only things we know of each other are oppression and war." Qrow sensed her strong disapproval, but Lia wasn't finished.
"However, I do not want my brother to die. I want him to rule the Blessing of Life for a long time, and I want him to be the holder of the blessing of Sol. If that means I have to put my pride aside and maybe do something incredibly dangerous and stupid for him to live, then I will do it gladly. But Rijin is right—I do not trust any of you, nor do I expect to." Qrow felt an unfamiliar warmth in his heart, an emotion he rarely experienced.
With everyone having voiced their opinions, Qrow took charge. "Then it seems like it is settled," he declared.
"Yes, it seems like it is," the Skutsamling said, standing up. "All of you are going to come together and pretend that you will not betray each other the first chance you get." She surveyed the room, scrutinizing everyone.
"I may not be a fortune teller, but I know what will happen next. When the nations hear that the council has been formed again—and they will hear—there will be people saying you are the 'generation of hope,' the symbol for a brighter tomorrow where the world can be at peace rather than in endless war and aggression." She chuckled slightly. "And then you will go on your quest... and you will lie to each other." Her tone grew darker, more angry. "You will convince yourselves that you are working for the greater good of your country, and then before you know it, you will no longer be a party but a group of people masquerading as a team. Then one of you will betray the other, and the world will fall apart."
"Mother," Garus interjected, but she waved him off.
"I will not allow Garus to be caught up in this. I know he has to be a part of the council, but I cannot see him thrown into senseless danger," she continued. Miqueli, the King of Niepe, slammed his staff against the ground.
"What are you saying, Samusara? Are you saying you are going to defy the council?" he yelled. The declaration surprised Qrow.
"If Garus is killed while the Zerlif Council is investigating and taking out this unknown threat, then I declare open war on Fearsh and Xerxes," Samusara declared defiantly, a twinkle of defiance in her eyes. The Dauntless and Rashom both reacted strongly.
"SAMUSARA, THIS IS TOO FAR!" the Dauntless shouted. The room grew hotter, reflecting his anger.
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD!" Rashom's aggression seemed to make the room shake slightly. Samusara chuckled.
"You can yell all you want and flex your muscles. I will stay true to my word," she replied. The Sentinel, along with other leaders, stood in solidarity.
"Very well then. If the Skutsamling declares war on Xerxes and Fearsh, then Midoku will declare war on Niepe and Penzamen," he declared. Chaos erupted in the room, with each section yelling at the other. Qrow struggled to comprehend the commotion, attempting to focus on one point. However, he noticed a white spectral figure emerging from Rashom's back, forming itself into a mighty lion with a head as large as Rashom's torso.
"SHIT!" Qrow thought, quickly covering his ears. Amid the chaos, no one else seemed to notice as the lion roared, its high-frequency sound shaking the room. What was once a cacophony of arguments and disputes transformed into an overwhelming roar. The heirs and battle-hardened individuals stumbled under the roar, but most recovered after covering their ears. Some nobles and servants fainted, blood seeping from their ears. The rulers, however, remained unaffected, staring at Rashom with disgust and anger.
After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, the lion closed its mouth, leaving only the ringing of ears. Rashom uttered something, but Qrow could barely make it out, catching only the word 'death.' As the ringing subsided, Rashom took control, addressing the group.
"Very well," he said, "the Council of Zerlif will be formed. You know what we must do now. The tenets will be established." Rashom placed his hand over the Fearsh sigil on the table, causing it to glow green and spread throughout the room. "The Council of Zerlif will be formed under the Tenets of the Middle Isle: The Council will include Qrow of Fearsh, Garus of Limgren, Prometheus of Xerxes, Varithorn of Niepe, Lia of Penzamen, and Rijin of Midoku," Rashom declared.
The Skutsamling then placed her hand on
the Limgren sigil, making it glow blood red. "Tenet for formation: If Garus Hayward of Limgren dies, Limgren will declare war on Xerxes and Fearsh, and Midoku will declare war on Penzamen and Niepe." Rashom reluctantly nodded.
"Miqueli, King of Niepe," Rashom continued, "When will the council depart?" Miqueli, visibly frustrated, placed his hand on the table, causing it to glow fiery red-orange. "Tenet for time: They will depart one month from now," he declared before storming out of the room.
Rashom turned to Adonis, the leader of the Blessing of Life and representative of Penzamen. "Where will they start their journey?" Adonis placed his hand on the Penzamen sigil, making it glow golden-yellow. "Tenet of travel: They will be heading to Penzamen. There have been reports of problems in the Blessing of Love."
Rijin Sr., the Sentinel of Midoku, was next. "How will they be traveling?" The Sentinel slammed his hand on the table, causing a burst of purple light. "They will be traveling on the desert winds, Prometheus's ship." The Dauntless and Prometheus both looked shocked.
"Durand, Dauntless of Xerxes," Rashom said, turning to the Dauntless. "Who will they go with?" "Tenet of companions: With two trusted advisors each, as well as any craftsmen or servants they might need for a longer journey," the Dauntless replied. All the remaining rulers nodded in agreement, and the light subsided.
Expecting some exchange of words, Qrow was surprised when they all simply looked at each other—anger, contempt, and sadness evident in their eyes, as far as he could tell.
"The Council will meet in one month on the Desert Winds in Xerxes to head to Penzamen," Rashom declared. With that, he turned and left the room without another word. Qrow took a moment to observe the rulers, his new companions, and everyone else before turning and leaving the room. All Qrow could think as he exited was,
What have we done…