Darian entered the council chamber, a vast hall lit by the flickering light of iron chandeliers suspended high above. The room was dominated by a long, polished table of dark wood, its surface etched with centuries of scratches and burns from the debates that unfolded upon it. Along the walls, tall windows were shielded by heavy crimson drapes, letting in just enough light to keep the room from entirely buried in shadow. The council members were already seated when Darian arrived, their murmured conversations silenced instantly at his entrance. They rose in unison, bowing their heads with a precision that was almost practiced.
"Lord Darian," intoned Halric, the eldest of the council, his grizzled features drawn into a mask of deference. "We are honored by your presence."
"Of course, you are, who else would listen to your winnings.., Lord Darian answered with a smirk on his face. Darian inclined his head, his crimson eyes scanning the room. Harris sat closest to him, as was the custom, his robes heavy with embroidery denoting his years of service. Across from him sat Lady Elira, her sharp eyes gleaming like a hawk's beneath the veil that covered half her face. To her left was Jordan, the youngest of the council, whose eagerness often veiled his lack of experience.
"Proceed," Darian said as he took his seat at the end of the table. His voice was calm but carried an authority that brooked no argument. Harlic cleared his throat, unfurling a scroll from which he began to read the day's petitions. "The coastal villages report an increase in disappearances among the fisherman. They suspect creatures from the deep have ventured closer to the shallows. Several families have demanded additional patrols along the shores. Lady Elira leaned forward, her fingers adorned with rings tapping softly against the table. "The sea is restless, my lord," she said. "The elders of Aelmere claim the tides are behaving strangely. Unnatural currents, they call them. If these disappearances are not addressed, the people will grow restless. They look to us for protection.
"The sea is always restless," Darian replied, his voice measured. "If we send patrols to every corner of the coast, we'll stretch our forces thin. Let them hold their vigil and report what they see. The creatures do not attach without reason." Jordan hesitated before speaking, his voice tinged with nervousness. "And.... if they do attach, my lord? If it is not mere creatures, but something.....older?" The room grew still. The council rarely spoke openly of such matters, though they all knew the stories. Whispers of ancient being dwelled in the depth, stirring only when the balance between land and sea was broken. "We deal with truth, not legends, "Darian said firmly , though a flicker of unease stirred within him."The patrols will investigate. If there is more to this, we will act swiftly."
Harlic gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Very well, my lord. There is also a matter of the envoy from Rivermarch. They request a formal audience to discuss trade routes. Shall we extend an invitation ?".
"Rivermarch has always been opportunistic," Elira said sharply ."They sense weakness in the kingdom's borders. To invite them is to invite a wolf in the fold." "And yet a wolf can be tamed," Darian replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I will hear them out. Send an invitation." The council continued its deliberations, the hours slipping by as petitions were raised and dismissed. Darian's mind, however, was elsewhere. The strange currents. The disappearances. The unease in the council's voices. Something was stirring.
When the council dispersed, Darian retreated to his private chambers, the weight of the day pressing down on him. The dreams had left him on edge, and now the day's report added to his unease. He paced before the hearth, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the room. His mind returned to the symbols from his dreams, glowing and pulsing in the darkness. He had tried to push them aside, but they clung to him, their meaning just out of reach. Crossing his desk, Darian opened a leather-bound tom a collection of ancient text passed down through his bloodline. He had studied them countless times, searching for answers to the riddles of his family's legacy. Tonight, however, he turned the pages without purpose, his thoughts clouded.
As he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fell upon the sigil carved into the stone above the hearth: the serpent and the crescent moon. It seemed almost alive in the firelight, the serpent's coiled form casting jagged shadows on the walls. "Why now?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames.
The sea was restless, the council had said it. But Darian knew better. The sea did not grow restless on its own. Something was calling to it-calling to him.
And whatever it was, it would not be ignored