The third meeting managed to start only half an hour after the ambassadors departed despite the complexity of bringing everyone together. It didn’t give me much time to read, but that was par for the course these days.

  I didn’t know any of these four attendees, but unlike the meeting with the ambassadors, I did have a very specific and significant ask for them.

  All four entered my offices together. I was seated in my typical location and stood upon their entrance. It was a bit more staged than my normal practice, but instead of waiting for them to approach seats around the table, I walked around and greeted each in person.

  The first of the guests in line as they entered, and therefore perceived as the least among the four, was the only human to join us. He was Monsignor William “Bill” Beeler, formerly a cleric of the Keelwell Holy Orders on long-term assignment as pastor of the Church in Elvendell. He was short for a human, balding, a little overweight, and had a smile that was genuine and infectious.

  Interestingly, even though he was a cleric, he wore the robes of an evangelist. He entered and shook my extended hand with both of his. “It is such a pleasure to meet with you, Seneschal.” He said with a grin that caused his eyes to sparkle.

  “Thank you for joining us, Monsignor. Please take a seat wherever you feel comfortable. Captain, please see that all our guests find a seat and get a glass of water or other drink as they may desire.”

  Leomys nodded his understanding and escorted the priest to a seat that would be to my left at one of the ends of the table. The monsignor protested his placement until Leomys assured him that I would be seated at the center and that taking such a position would not be insulting to me.

  Next in line was Wizard Grandmaster Iolas Naevys Ronala. He was the guildmaster of the wizard guild here in Elvendell, and the Commander shared that he may be the most powerful wizard alive today in the realm, save only for the archmage himself.

  “Grandmaster Ronala, it is an honor to have you in my chambers,” I said in greeting and bowed my head.

  “Enough of that foolishness. If you bow, I must bow even further, Seneschal, and you can call me Wizard Iolas or simply Iolas in this august company.” He said with a smile.

  I laughed. “I have been warned that you are second only in power to the archmage. I think Wizard Iolas is the most familiar I can manage, having been an apprentice only a week ago.”

  He laughed even more loudly and drew the attention and then smiles of the others present. “I shall do my best to refrain from both demonstrations of magical prowess and lectures of long-winded sagacity, then, shall I?”

  He parted with a slight bow to me and a smile as I moved to return the bow.

  Third to enter my office chambers was one of only three known living Woodland Elven Paladins. His name was Eroan Daeqen and was referred to as Sir Daeqen by the Commander, who had considerable respect for this holy warrior.

  “Welcome, Sir Daeqen. I thank you sincerely for your time, especially given your absence from the battlefront at this time.”

  I could tell that he was an elf with some significant age, but was clearly in prime shape.

  He reached out his hand to me for a handshake. It was not an arm clasp that most knights or warriors usually shared, but given that elves rarely touched in any way, he seemed to be making a genuine overture to me.

  As soon as our hands clasped, I felt a jolt. It was not painful, but neither was it subtle.

  By the surprised look on his face, it was not anything that he had done himself.

  But he did not let go of my hand. He stared at me and finally asked, “Shepherd of Shepherds?”

  “It is a long story,” I admitted.

  “And one I look forward to hearing, brother.” He replied with an expression that still showed his surprise. He parted after a gentle squeeze of my hand, as one might give a younger sibling, and joined the others at the table.

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  The final member to join us and in the position of greatest honor was Arbor Grandmaster Chalia Ealirel Persalor. She had a presence that I felt as she entered the room. She was old, far older than the other elves around me. She was older than the king’s father. She still had a vibrancy about her, however. I immediately understood why Leomys and his father held her in awe, which was not a typical sentiment one elf holds for another.

  Her elven title of Arbor Grandmaster was probably better translated into Tradespeak as grandspeaker with trees rather than tree grandmaster. I did not truly understand the nuances of what that all meant, but given my experience with the king’s father and magically walking into a redwood tree, I was open to what her magic might entail.

  The role of the arbor masters fits a niche held by the church among humans. While faith was something that arose differently among elves who did not follow the Way, it did present itself as a tangible faith and a code of behavior and social expectations. And among all of those, she was the most respected, even revered. She was much like the Bishop was in Keelwell.

  I bowed. “Great Lady, Arbor Grandmaster Persalor, please be welcomed. I am honored by your presence.”

  She was taller than I had expected and actually stood over me by a few inches. She looked down at me in a very serious manner and said, “Seneschal, I thank you for the invitation and hope to serve where called.”

  She returned my bow, although not quite at the same depth as my own. It was not the perfect first impression, but it was a start.

  I hoped.

  The Commander and captain had planned the seating carefully, and I went with their suggestions. I would be seated in my spot with my back to the large picture windows, the Monsignor would be to my left, across from me would be seated both Wizard Grandmaster Iolas Naevys Ronala and Arbor Grandmaster Chalia Ealirel Persalor, and to my right would be Paladin Sir Eroan Daeqen. Devdan gave several explanations why this seating arrangement would be best, and Leomys agreed, but their nuances were lost on me, and so I just trusted their judgment.

  I took my seat, placed my hands folded upon the table before me, and began.

  “Thank you each for coming,” I turned to Sir Daeqen, “especially you, Sir Daeqen. I hope to lay before you why you have been asked here and why departing the battlefront is vital.”

  Grandmaster Persalor raised a finger, pointed toward the ceiling.

  “What is it, Arboress?” Sir Daeqen asked.

  She met my eyes, and I nodded for her to continue.

  “I presume, given those assembled, that this will involve the darkness and the upcoming Mage Council meeting.”

  “It does, my lady,” I replied.

  “I presume that you will ask either our advice for some plan you have in mind or actions you wish us to take.”

  “That is also true, my lady,” I answered.

  “And our confidence and loyalty will be required and possibly tested at Mage Council.” She asserted.

  I thought about her words. “It is possible, yes, my lady. The plan is not set, but it could involve some risk.”

  “Are you confident in each person around this table? To my knowledge, none of us has met with you before now.”

  I looked around the room. “I believe that the darkness would not find roots among any of you in the room.”

  “And how do you assure us that this darkness has not already found its root in you? You, alone, survived the attack by Slayers not many hours ago.” She asked, never raising her voice or speaking in a tone that could be construed as accusatory.

  “Well-” I was at a loss for words. I looked around at them, trying to think of something to say that would convince them that I was not among the ranks of our enemy.”

  Sir Daeqen came to my rescue. “Other than the naive presumption of innocence which left him speechless at your asking, I can confirm that he is pure of spirit and is a Servant of the Light.”

  The others around the table looked at me with interest.

  “Indeed?” She commented. “That could prove helpful.” She paused for a moment and then, looking at me once more, said, “Forgive my interruption, Seneschal. Please continue.” Her body language became more relaxed and, if I read it correctly, more respectful.

  I gave a summarized account of the discussion with the ambassadors, as well as my observations about that meeting and the meeting with the Reeves.

  They sat in silence for the entire summary. Much of what I shared, they probably already knew, but it brought us all up to speed.

  Their expressions, though neutral, told me more than silence ever could. The monsignor had leaned back slightly in his chair, nodding along thoughtfully, his fingers tapping gently against the rim of his untouched glass. He wore the calm detachment of someone trained to witness both miracles and betrayals without blinking. It was an odd combination to be both cleric and evangelist, but he had come highly recommended, and given our plan, he would be critical for its success.

  Wizard Iolas had tilted his head at some point, eyes narrowed. I initially thought he was annoyed, but quickly discovered it was an affectation. It was not a look of suspicion, but calculation. Perhaps he was already drafting scenarios in his mind, writing contingencies no one had yet named aloud. His knowledge and power were far enough beyond my own that this was probably the case.

  Sir Daeqen sat still as stone, but his jaw had tightened with the mention of the Reeves. He did not speak, but his silence felt deliberate, not indifferent. He knew the weight of power that shifted subtly from council to council, from battlefield to backroom, far better than I.

  And completing my observations, Grandmaster Persalor watched me with the focus of someone reading a sacred tree’s ring patterns, as if the words I’d just spoken were bark to be interpreted. She neither nodded nor frowned, but I felt her attention.

  The silence that followed was not empty. It was full of thoughts and strategies.

  I took a slow breath and resisted the urge to press forward too quickly. To them, I was the youngest in the room, the newest, the least tested. I had authority, yes, but it had been given, not yet earned. In many ways, this meeting would decide whether I remained a figurehead or became something more.

  Would they follow my lead? Or simply indulge it?

  Then Wizard Iolas stirred. He adjusted the cuffs of his robe and set his palms flat against the table.

  “What do you seek from us, Seneschal?” Wizard Iolas asked.

  I told them.

  They looked at me, at each other, at the Commander, and once again at me.

  “I like it.” Sir Daeqen stated simply.

  Wizard Iolas said dryly, “You would Eroan.”

  “Then let’s work out the details,” I suggested, sensing that consensus was moving us forward.