Page 79 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"Precisely," I said, stepping closer to Jalend in a show of solidarity. "They're prepared for external threats, not internal betrayal. Not the Emperor's own son walking into the arena with the power to expose their greatest lies."
"Fantasy," dismissed an older warrior. "Pretty words that ignore reality. Even if they could reach the capital, even if they could free some dragons, what then? The Emperor has a dozen sons, a hundred generals ready to take his place. You would accomplish nothing but your own deaths."
"Better to die as martyrs than as cowards," Taveth said, his voice carrying those harmonics that made the shadows dance. Several people shifted uncomfortably as darkness flickered around his feet. "Better to strike one real blow than to cower in our mountains waiting for death."
"And what of the Talfen people?" demanded another council member. "You ask us to support this madness, but what do we gain? Even if you succeed, even if you kill the Emperor and free some dragons, his legions will still march on our borders. His armies will still burn our homes in revenge."
It was Marcus who answered, his voice carrying the weight of hard experience. "Then you'll face them anyway. But if we succeed, you'll face them without their dragons, without their greatest advantage. You'll face mortal men instead of monsters, soldiers instead of symbols of divine power."
The debate that followed was fierce and complex, touching on everything from military strategy to ancient prophecies. I listened to the arguments flow back and forth, feeling my hope slowly drain away as the opposition gained momentum.
The isolationists spoke of centuries of survival through hiding, of the wisdom of avoiding the Empire's attention altogether. The pragmatists laid out the crushing numerical disadvantage the Talfen faced—ten Imperial soldiers for every Talfen warrior, a hundred Imperial citizens for every person in the hidden valleys.
The cynics questioned our motives entirely, suggesting we might be Imperial spies sent to manipulate them into exposing their strongholds. After all, what proof did they have beyond our word? Why should they trust outsiders who had brought nothing but chaos to their doorstep?
But it was the military intelligence that truly crushed our hopes. Scout reports detailed the Imperial buildup along the borders—legions massing at river crossings, supply trains that stretched for miles, siege engines being assembled in forward camps. The Empire wasn't planning raids anymore. They were preparing for total war.
"They're building fortifications along every route into our territories," reported the chief scout, a weathered woman whose face bore the marks of countless dangerous missions. "Choking off trade routes, burning farmland to starve out resistance. They mean to trap us in these mountains and starve us into submission."
"All the more reason to strike at their heart before they can complete their preparations," Jalend argued, but I could hear the desperation creeping into his voice.
"All the more reason to marshal our strength for the defence of our homeland," countered the war chief. "Better to die as warriors defending our own soil than as skulking assassins in foreign lands."
Taveth's response was barely above a whisper, but the acoustics carried it to every corner of the chamber: "Better to make them burn for what they've done to us."
The shadows around him flared with his words, and I felt the darkness pressing against our bond like a living thing. Several council members actually stood and backed away, their fear palpable. I reached for his hand, hoping my touch might ground him, but the damage was already done. They saw him as a weapon, unstable and dangerous, rather than a man with a plan.
When the council withdrew for private deliberation, we were left sitting in the centre of the chamber like criminals awaiting sentencing. The weight of the watching crowd pressed down on us, and I found myself pacing despite my efforts to project calm confidence.
"I should have been clearer about the military advantages," Jalend muttered, replaying his speech in his head. "Should have emphasized the intelligence I could provide about Imperial defences."
"You did fine," I said, though doubt was gnawing at my stomach. "They're just afraid."
Taveth was radiating such rage through our bond that I felt nauseous. The shadows around him writhed with increasing violence, and I could hear him muttering under his breath about how easily he could force the council to see reason. Tarshi stayed close, one hand on his twin's shoulder, the only thing keeping him anchored.
"This is pointless," Marcus said quietly. "They've already made their decision. They just want to look like they considered our proposal."
He was right, and I knew it. I'd seen that same dismissive calculation too many times in my life—the way powerful people pretended to listen while their minds were already elsewhere. It was the same look the arena masters had worn when slaves begged for mercy, the same expression I'd seen on Imperial faces when common citizens dared to question their betters.
When the council returned, their formation told the story before any words were spoken. Rigid, formal, united in their decision. The High Priestess rose, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.
"The council has reached its decision," she announced. "We will not support this venture."
The words hit me like a physical blow, but she wasn't finished.
"Instead, we will muster every able-bodied warrior in our territories. We will march to meet the Imperial forces at our borders, and we will make them pay in blood for every inch of our land they dare to claim. Better to die with honour defending our ancestral homes than to risk everything on the desperate dreams of outsiders."
The dismissal was absolute, final, devastating. I felt Jalend crumple beside me, all his hopes for legitimacy and support crushed in a single pronouncement. The council was choosing the proud death of traditional warfare over the uncertain hope of striking at the Empire's heart.
"You are welcome to remain in our city as honoured guests," the High Priestess continued, her tone making it clear this was not really an invitation. "But we will not provide support for your mission. The decision is final."
The formal dismissal rang in my ears as we were escorted from the chamber. I could feel the weight of all those watching eyes, could sense the mixture of relief and disappointment from the crowd. Some were glad to see us denied, afraid of the risks we represented. Others looked like they wanted to speak but didn't dare contradict the council's decision.
Back in our quarters, the group reconvened in heavy silence. The contrast between our desperate energy during the presentation and our current deflation was stark. We'd gambled everything on this moment, and we'd lost.
"They never meant to listen," I said finally, voicing what we were all thinking. "They'd already decided before we ever entered that chamber."
"Cowards," Taveth snarled, shadows writhing around him like living smoke. "They'd rather die uselessly than take the fight to our enemies."
