Chapter 313 - An inquiry
Gaspar adjusted the folds of his black robes as he ascended the alabaster steps leading up to the Aetherium Conclave’s principal spire. His expression remained mostly impassive, though the faint furrow in his brow betrayed the weight of his thoughts — and his exhaustion.
The grand chamber doors loomed ahead, etched with its endless shimmering arrays that pulsed faintly at his approach. Though imposing, they were little more than ceremonial artifice. He paused at the threshold, squared his shoulders, and smoothed his robes one final time before stepping forward.
The doors parted without a sound, revealing a circular hall crowned by a vast domed ceiling, alive with a shifting tapestry of stars and nebulae that mirrored the ever-changing night sky. Beneath it, high-backed chairs curved in a semicircle around a crescent table and the central platform, where the Council of the Rising Isle convened. Most seats were occupied, their occupants’ expressions ranging from contemplative to mildly impatient. Gaspar’s entrance only drew a few glances.
“Well, there you are,” drawled a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Dressed in grey robes, he lounged in his seat with an air of irreverence, as though decorum had long ceased to concern him. “We thought you’d forsaken us for the day, Gaspar.”
Gaspar met the man’s gaze coldly as he crossed the chamber to his own seat. “I would never dream of it, Felwin. Some of us still take our duties seriously.”
The man merely shook his head, chuckling under his breath.
“You, of all people, are not the one I expected to be late,” came a softer voice — measured, but carrying its own edge. “Given your recent experiences, however, it would be unfair to hold it against you.”
Warder Asheton regarded him with a nod, her golden braids streaked with white, her dark skin bearing the first traces of age. Though her words were conciliatory enough, the woman’s sharp gaze had a way of making one feel as if she were searching for faults and ways to pick one apart.
“If we are in the business of excusing tardiness, then perhaps Clemmons had the right idea not to come at all,” a third voice remarked dryly. The speaker, a severe man seated near the center, had a long beard that spilt down to his chest and eyes that always sought to pierce through all pretences.
Gaspar took his seat at the edge of the semicircle without replying. Arch Wizard Newbury wasn’t a man Gaspar was at odds with, but neither were they particularly aligned.
“None of that now, Newbury,” a final voice, firm yet unhurried, cut through the brief tension. Gaspar turned his attention to the elderly woman seated beside Newbury. Arch Wizard Elaine Home lifted an elaborate Luicean cup to her lips, her silver hair pulled into a neat bun. “I swear, the older you get, the more you seem to enjoy senseless bickering. We can squabble later, when an imperial envoy isn’t due to arrive shortly.”
The woman glanced at Gaspar, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement before casting his gaze around the room. As Newbury had pointed out, Grand Wizard Clemmons was absent — likely still recovering from the ordeal in the Hall of Echoes. Arch Wizard Hastings and three others were also missing, meaning there were ten present, though given the turmoil outside the Isle at the moment, their absence was unsurprising.