An Eizan out of water

Orders (3)

Silver

Eizan Territory, The Eizan Mansion

4th September 2315, Friday 8:14p.m.

The meeting hall of the Eizan Mansion contradicts much with the overall design of the building. Instead of the Victorian-style interior that one might have expected to see, the meeting hall has a rather distinct oriental feel to it. Too much of old China, too little of old Europe. The gentle trickle of the shallow pool surrounding the sides of the room can be heard flowing continuously without rest. Instead of having regular tables and chairs, every member is forced to sit on the floor with a low table set for each of us, and these tables are arranged in a row on each side of the room. Vyberon sits at the end in a position where he's able to observe each and every one of us with ease. Perhaps this is Vyberon's way of telling us that while we may be in a western country, we should never forget about our roots as Asians.

The atmosphere in the meeting hall is as tense as ever, invoking a feeling of suffocation within me as we await for Vyberon to speak. The man with greying hair may be old, but his broad, powerful physique reminds us of why we should always respect his strength. Taking a sip of his saké, the old man lets out a sigh. Nobody in the room dares to speak without his permission. I can feel my stomach twisting in knots as my paranoia of Vyberon's temper continues to grow with each passing moment. Isabella sits beside me, her expression completely unreadable.

Finally, Vyberon speaks.

"Our ancestors," he begins in a deep, powerful voice that effortlessly carries itself throughout the hall. "If they were to see us now, would they be pleased with how we're carrying the name of the Eizan... or would they spit at us with contempt, disgusted by our incompetence?"

Silence continues to hang in the air. It was obviously a rhetorical question.

"Each and every one of you in this room is well aware of the contributions that you've made for the family. Those that feel they're unworthy of remaining in this room, you may as well own up right now. I don't have much patience tonight."

Several of the members around the hall can be seen fidgeting in their seats. Vyberon's words are slow and composed, but these mannerisms are nothing but a blanket to hide the intense emotion of rage. I can feel he's close to unleashing these emotions upon us. However, nobody in the room appears to have given up to their growing anxieties. While Vyberon's words are powerful and frightening, these people are the Eizan's elites for a reason. To even be in the position of attending a meeting such as this would mean that each of them must possess a certain degree of courage themselves.

"Confidence. Or is it courage? Perhaps even pure foolishness," Vyberon growls before slowly getting up from his seat. The old man strolls down from the tiny flight of steps, before walking through the isle flanked by the two rows of Eizans.

"Lucian," Vyberon says as he nears the centre of the room.

"Yes, father," my brother says, taking a short bow in his seat.

"What do you think of our performance for this year?"