Several days later.
Night.
The chamber.
It was a gloomy and oppressive chamber, buried deep underground to avoid detection. In the center of the chamber, there stood a black, elongated table, on which sat a silver candelabra, sparsely fitted with a few candles. The lit candles flickered unsteadily, like the gasping breaths of the dying, rendering the chamber exceedingly dim.
In the dim light, surrounding the table in the center of the chamber, were more than a dozen high-backed leather chairs, now less than half occupied. One individual sat at the end of the table, and five others sat along the sides. Each person was clad in a thick cloak, their faces hidden within the hoods, extremely cautious, engaged in some discussion.
The person sitting at the end of the table, seemingly of slightly higher status, spoke first with a voice that carried a measure of steadiness, "Gentlemen, speak of the recent happenings."
