The air in the Elders Council Chamber was thick with the weight of ancient authority and present anxiety.
The massive, circular granite table dominated the room, its surface reflecting the soft glow of the central crystal.
Hamdal sat at the front, outwardly calm but internally calculating, his renowned gauntlets resting on the dark wood of his chair’s arms.
Beside him were the three titans of the council.
Grand Elder Ignis, The Dwarf, massive and imposing, his silver-ringed beard framing a face set in a deep scowl.
His posture conveyed an impatience for inefficiency.
Grand Elder Aerion, The Elf, a picture of ethereal age and wisdom.
He sat with unnerving stillness, his eyes barely visible beneath heavy lids, seemingly observing the arguments from a great, detached height.
Grand Elder Vorlag, The Dragon-kin, his broad shoulders and subtly scaled skin emphasizing his formidable presence.
His reptilian eyes were sharp and unblinking, studying the faces of the debating elders.
Surrounding the table were the remaining council members, including Zarnak and Rowena, their faces tense.
Zarnak cleared his throat and addressed the room, his voice gaining strength as he spoke.
"Grand Elders, esteemed Council members. The recent incursion by the Eclipse Beasts, led by the traitor Flint, has left a profound psychological impact on our students. To foster healing, rekindle community spirit, and restore confidence, we propose the revival of the Academy Festival."
A wave of low murmurs immediately spread around the table, forcing Zarnak to pause.
"The Academy Festival, as you recall, was a three-day tradition of friendly competition, cultural showcase, and communal celebration," Zarnak continued, directing his appeal mainly toward the silent Grand Elders.
"It offers a vital spiritual reprieve and asserts the enduring strength of the Academy’s traditions against the Chaos."
Elder Valerius, a stout man from the Arcane division, immediately challenged the proposal.
"A festival? In the wake of an attack that shattered our defenses? Is this truly the time for frivolity? Our resources, our healers, our guards, our reserves must be focused solely on reinforcing the defences and tracking lingering threats, not on organizing entertainment!"
"This is not frivolity, Elder Valerius, it is psychological triage!" Rowena shot back, her voice ringing with conviction.
"The morale of our students is a defense in itself! A warrior crippled by fear is useless, regardless of their aura reserves. We must show them the Academy is still a sanctuary, capable of celebrating life and challenging the darkness!"
Elder Lyra, head of logistics, interjected with a pragmatic objection.
"And the costs? Manpower, setting up temporary wards, supplying the festivities. Our coffers are stretched thin. Who will bear the expense and the security risk?"
"The risk is worth the reward," countered Elder Kaelen, his face grim. He was one of the elders on Hamdal’s side.
"If we retreat into fear and austerity, we let Flint win the moral victory. A festival sends a message of defiance. That we fear no beast and that our traditions will outlive their shadows!"
The discussion devolved into a heated exchange. Arguments over the financial strain clashed with appeals to the students’ well-being.
Some elders maintained that celebrating now appeared disrespectful to the gravity of the invasion, while others passionately argued for the necessity of a morale booster before the next training cycle.
Amidst the furious debate, the Headmaster and the Grand Elders maintained their silence, their subtle reactions painting a clearer picture of the council’s division than the actual arguments.
Grand Elder Ignis frowned deeply, his eyes fixed on the logistics chief, Lyra, nodding slightly at every mention of cost and resource allocation.
His focus was clearly on the practical, material expenses of the proposal.
Grand Elder Aerion remained serenely detached.
He observed the squabbling with a faint, almost pitying smile.
He seemed less concerned with the substance of the debate and more interested in the nature of the human fear and resolve being displayed.
Grand Elder Vorlag was the most inscrutable. He rarely moved, his sharp eyes flicking between Zarnak, Rowena, and the most fervent objectors.
He was assessing not the proposal, but the strength of will behind it.
Hamdal watched every council member, letting the intense pressure build.
He knew the proposal had merit, but forcing the issue would only breed resentment.
He was waiting for the perfect moment, or the perfect flaw in the counter-arguments to intervene.
The noise swelled, an angry, low chorus of voices fighting for dominance.
The intense debate that had consumed the council table was instantly silenced by the Headmaster’s decisive command.
"Enough," Hamdal stated, his voice cutting through the clamor.
"Let’s get the opinions of the Grand Elders first. We’ll continue later with their insights."
The hall fell silent.
The other council members nervously cleared their throats, their attention now focused entirely on the three ancient figures.
Grand Elder Ignis, the Dwarf, was the first to speak.
He slammed a heavy fist on the table, the granite shuddering slightly.
"Absolute denial! This is a gross misuse of resources. The Academy is meant for rigorous training and defense against the Gloom, not for frivolous celebrations! The costs are immense, the security risk unacceptable, and the focus must remain on the impending threat, not on coddling terrified recruits. Wastage!"
His vehement refusal settled a pall of disappointment over the proponents of the festival.
Then, Grand Elder Aerion interjected, his ancient eyes opening fully, a playful, almost mischievous smile gracing his lips.
"Oh, but Ignis, where is the poetry in constant vigilance? A bow held taut will snap. A festival... it is a necessary tension breaker. It is fun. I like the idea."
The two Grand Elders immediately locked into a heated discussion, the Dwarf arguing fiercely about finance and practicality, the Elf responding with philosophical and emotional arguments about the spirit.
It was Grand Elder Vorlag, the Dragon-kin, who finally brought the weight of tradition to bear.
His deep, raspy voice was quiet, but it commanded absolute attention.
"Both are correct," Vorlag rumbled, his head slowly turning to encompass the entire table.
"The risk and expense are undeniable, Ignis. And yet, the lifting of morale is vital, Aerion. However," he paused, the silence amplifying his words.
"we must remember why the Academy Festival was suspended. It was right in this very hall of the council of that time, due to the shock and immediate danger of the Eclipse Fall."
"Do you all wish to prove that the council at that time had made the wrong decision? Do you all wish to tear thier beliefs apart?" He said in a cold voice.
Vorlag was a man of tradition, and his message was clear, deviating from the solemn reason for the suspension would require great justification.
His non-committal stance meant the decision was now fully dependent on the majority.
All eyes finally shifted back to Hamdal.
Hamdal met their gaze gracefully, accepting the weight of the moment. "Grand Elders, esteemed members," he said, his voice firm but respectful.
"All of you think in benifit of the academy, I know that. A festival right after such a devastating incident might not seem right in the eyes of the outsiders. But let me say this, the academy stands because of these young talents, tha students."
"Before everything else, we should always think what’s right for the students. Since the academy is the students themselves." Hamdal took a small pause and continued ahead.
"I believe that stagnation is the true defeat. While tradition is the bedrock of this institution, we must change with the time and the need of the moment. Our students are not facing the immediate aftermath of the Eclipse Fall; they are facing its slow, consuming legacy. They need hope now more than they need fear."
Seeing the council was clearly divided, Zarnak stood up, pushing his chair back slightly.
"Headmaster, with respect, debate will continue endlessly. I propose we settle this now with a vote."
He laid out the terms clearly. "As per the emergency bylaws, a proposal of this magnitude requires a significant majority. I propose that at least seven votes must be in favour for the proposal to pass, including the votes of the Grand Elders and the Headmaster."
A chorus of agreement met his proposal. The stakes were set.
Zarnak then asked them to raise their hands in favour of the proposal.
Zarnak and Rowena immediately lifted their hands.
Slowly, three more hands rose from their faction: Elder Kaelen, Elder Lyra and another elder from the fairy race, who were swayed by Hamdal’s argument or the mood of the room, had crossed the line.
Five votes.
All gazes now moved to the Grand Elders. Grand Elder Ignis sat stubbornly, his arms crossed.
Grand Elder Aerion raised his hand with a joyful smile, granting the sixth vote.
The tension was suffocating. Only two votes remained: Vorlag and Hamdal.
Grand Elder Vorlag remained perfectly still for a prolonged, agonizing moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, without a word, he slowly shook his head, keeping his vote against the measure.
The count rested at six votes.
Finally, Hamdal moved. He looked down the table at Zarnak and Rowena, a slow, confident smirk spreading across his face. He slowly lifted his hand, casting the seventh vote.
The final count: Seven votes.
The room held its breath, confusion mounting. But Zarnak was already counting again, his face shifting from doubt to joy continuously.
"Headmaster," Zarnak announced, his voice ringing with triumph, "Including your vote, we have seven votes in favour. The motion passes! The Academy Festival is approved!"