Weary faces surrounded the ornate table. The tension made the air thicken, heavy with silent schemes and tumultuous thoughts. The lords of the council sat deep in mutters and mumbles like troubled students in a lecture. Several vacant seats indicated the absences of may prominent men and women. No one could blame them. The terrifying news pouring out from the distant bases had already shaken them. As leaders, they carried the lives of their followers and bore the weight of every loss and damage, no matter how small they may be.
Lord Fridal glanced at the empty seat beside him where Lady Klaria of Ralor had once glanced at him with annoyance. His eyes deepened in thought. Ralor has taken a terrible hit from the demonic raids and she left to defend her territory. He couldn't help but be concerned. But, of course, he didn't miss that blabbering mouth of hers. Lord Fridal grimaced. Nope... Not one... bit.
