Legion
“That is hardly proof positive,” a voice called from the dark ranks of the upper gallery, “we have all seen their ranks by standing on our own walls.”
“I have done more than that!” There was a sense of self-satisfaction in the young Councilman's voice, a pleasure at his words being the center of attention and First Patriot Vemno frowned. Thelo's rise to a rank of significance had been rapid, largely because of his claims that the zeal he displayed was aimed at the improvement of the nation as a whole. Vemno had seen enough fools come through the council chambers to recognize when one presented himself, but Thelo's honeyed words appeared to be convincing even the oldest and surest of mind. “I have scouted the route the approached myself, and discovered they stretch from here to Appoli. The host we see at our gates is a mere fraction of the horde that lies in wait!”
There were a few gasps of shock and horror but Vemno did not bother to call for silence. Such information was no surprise – the leader of the army camped at his doorstep had made as much clear when he first walked into the council chamber. Still, some men in the room were easily impressed by words and Thelo had enough to almost satisfy himself, let alone anyone who chose to listen.
“I am well aware of this,” Vemno grated from his chair. Set slightly higher than the others in the room it gave no special authority save for the ability to call for silence if proceedings became too unruly and dismiss those in attendance. Outside of the chamber his powers had broader scope, but the tradition of equal men carried much weight inside the white walls of the Capital. “As are many here. Why do you repeat what we already know?”
“To make our situation clear!” Thelo's voice was fiery and his face had taken on a deep red hue. His passion was what had won the hearts of younger citizens, and his seeming reason had convinced those who did not care for the younger generation. “We have no choice, Vemno – war is our only answer.”
There was a murmur of assent from the upper gallery, and not a few rumblings of support from those on the main floor. The young firebrand was winning them over, step by step.
“Only answer?” Vemno said lightly. “Have you neglected your history reading for so long, my young friend? Negotiations, peace treaties, compromise – these are the building blocks of civilization and come well before declarations of war.”
“You would not fight such a horde?” The white-robed man's tone was incredulous. “You would simply let them have their way with our brave men and noble women?” A low moan of displeasure rose from those assembled and Vemno swept a hard fist down onto the gong next to his chair. Silence followed its ringing metal strike.
“I would speak to them and determine if an accommodation could be reached. I see no reason to allow the deaths of our 'brave men and noble women' – as you so eloquently put it – when another solution may be possible.”
“I agree.” A new voice came from the chamber's entrance. Deep and self-assured, the speaker's tone made Thelo's sound like a boy playing a scene for his elders.
“Lord Nionas,” Vemno rose from his seat. “I was not informed you would be joining us.” The head of the host outside the gates had been respectful enough of their customs, thus far – why had he had suddenly barged in?
“My apologies, councilmen,” he said, moving to stand next to Thelo and then dipping into a graceful bow. Even doubled over the pale-skinned commander matched Thelo in height, and his sleeveless tunic showed off thick and muscled arms to best effect.
“Accepted,” Vemno said quickly before any of the others could speak, and Nionas rose.
“I have been made aware that one of your number,” the commander cast a dark glance at Thelo, “has been collecting information on my forces and reporting back to you with what I believe to be...inaccurate...information.”
“Oh?” Thelo's tone was challenging. “In what way? You stretch from here to our sister city and the bodies along your route tell the tale. Your army is not here for peace or compromise but to grind us into the dust if we do not submit.”
Nionas turned large eyes on Vemno and then spoke two words: “Again, apologies.”
His right hand flew up and back, striking Thelo in the throat and then sending him to the ground, a startled gasp all that remained of the once-beautiful voice. Only moments passed and his form lay unmoving in the council chamber; while his sudden silence was of some relief to Vemno its cause was of far greater concern.
“I will leave you now, gentlemen, to return to your deliberations. Except an emissary soon – we have much to discuss, and I would like for you to enjoy the hospitality of my camp.”
Vemno waved a hand and both guards at the door stepped back. There was no point in losing any good men as well as the fool that lay limp and cooling on the floor.
“This is madness!” The cry was taken up as Nionas swept out, but Vemno struck the gong again.
“This was expected,” he hissed, “Thelo has simply sped up the process. Expect a message soon, gentlemen, one that appears as an invitation but is in truth a demand.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I will go to his camp alone and attempt to bargain for our lives. If I do not return, war will be our only choice. Dismissed!” He had no choice but to send them away and prevent further open discussion. Nionas would do as he said, Vemno was sure, and the city had to stand ready if simple murders were the commander's preference to all-out war.
- D
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