The King Trials.

~An Era of Dominion~

In the sap of time, a new day is born, and with it. Problems follow.

An emergency conclave.

A conclave is an administration meeting with all the high-ranking political figures present: senators, officials, lawmakers, and so forth. My father was once in attendance as a foreign representative on matters that demanded his intellectual expertise. The conclave is a government broth where notions and appeals stew, and disputes brew about the stability of Sorcia. Whatever decisions are unanimous, they will be passed onto the Xercra to either be vetoed or rectified. 

The gathering is held in a separate building of the palace, still safe within its towering walls. Usually, such imperative assemblies are only deliberated by its illustrious members. So I was quite astounded to find out that us candidates, foreigners, were invited to observe their political affairs.

I suppose a lesson in foreign politics. Now, this I can understand, but I'm marginally curious as to why they agreed to it. But I presume the future Ruler among us will need to be involved in affairs of the realm. No matter what judgment they make, it must stay be within the boundaries of the treaties with other neighbouring kingdoms. Most importantly within limitations of the High King's regulations.

We were collected as one from the Xercra's imperial residences to journey to the location that was navigated by Zulan. The conclave's place of gathering is exceptional. We all stream inside, slow in our pace, taking time to marvel at the architecture. At least I am. The structure is spherical and huge, erected from immaculate white granite from the floor to the crown moulding. The domed ceiling is made from glass, allowing a flood of scintillating sunlight to illuminate everything in sight into a blinding brilliance.

My floor-length dress practically camouflages with my surroundings. The straps are thin with golden clasps that holds onto the silky river that streams behind me as I walk. Inside there are no seats or aisles, boxes, or galleries. Only a double-stepped ring, broad with only two thick ledges for steps that encircle the epicentre of the structure.

Duce Merian shoos us to a corner where we group ourselves close enough to observe from a respectful distance. For now, we wait. I stand flanked by the only two Herems that I can bear. Solaris and Vince.

Vince's torso tilts towards me. "I'm glad to see that you have sobered. Your wits... assembled," he says lowly. His tenor tickled by amusement.

I sneak a peek of him, mending my posture. "I was not drunk to begin with...I simply have not had Blue Vinum in a long time. I misremembered its effects. Besides." A smile creeps on my face. "Even inebriated, I'm still more clear-headed than you."

He makes a small, irksome sound, disagreeing. "That is debatable."

I reply with a swift elbow to the ribs, drawing out a stifled laugh from him. Duce Merian slants forward, out of alignment. He blisters us both with a glare. I compress my lips, folding them inwards to muffle a laugh of my own.

Finally, the members of the conclave enter from where we did. All the dark-skinned beings with delicate tattoos enter. Dressed in draping garments, pinned by elaborate brooches and capes to add to their grandeur. With a shiny colour scheme of white, stark blue, and auburn. They all move to stand on the enormous steps, filling both of them. One of the senators stands at the centre as they begin their governmental summit. Their proceedings start and, as expected, they converse in Torin.

"Alternate plans need to be made for both food security, and the safety of the people of His Holiness. High King Urus seems too preoccupied with preserving his reign. He disregards the needs of those he has an obligation to," one of them spurs.