Chapter 419: Gang Of Shame
When the First Elder called for the vote, fully expecting the majority of the Council to fall in line, especially after how brutally he had exposed the misdeeds of the Second and Fourth Elders, what he did not anticipate was that only five hands would rise to support his proposal.
A quiet gasp passed through the chamber, carried by the silence that followed the tally, as he slowly turned his gaze toward the elders seated around him, registering the raised hands of the Third, Fifth, Eighth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Elders.....
Which when included with his own, brought the total tally supporting Leo’s nomination as Dragon to six.
Just one short of the seven required for majority.
And in that instant, the expression beneath his mask, calculated and steady up until now, visibly cracked.
The remaining six elders, whose hands had stayed motionless, avoided his gaze.
They hid behind their dark masks like cowards clinging to anonymity, but their shame radiated through their posture alone, as they could clearly not puff their chests while doing something so cowardly.
’Oh? So this is how it really was—’ The First Elder finally realized, as he began to understand just how deeply the odds had been stacked against him before this meeting even began.
The Second, Fourth, Sixth, Seventh, Ninth, and Tenth Elders, were all in bed with one another before the meeting ever began.
All shackled to the Fourth Elder by whispered threats and buried sins, who had long promised him their votes, before the meeting even began.
In the end, it did not matter how compelling the truth was, nor how grotesque the facts had been, as what really swayed votes in this Council was not justice, but insurance.
"All those in favor of naming Aegon Veyr as the Dragon..." the Second Elder finally spoke. His voice was oily with restraint, rising to fill the void left by the First Elder, who now remained silent, too sickened to carry on.
Six hands rose again, this time from the other side of the chamber, as the deadlock was complete.
Twelve elders, six on each side, making it so that it became impossible to reach a majority.
The First Elder stood motionless as the chamber began to fray at the seams.
Elders whispered behind gloved fingers, nervously shifted in their seats, and some already prepared rebuttals while others looked away in discomfort, unwilling to acknowledge the rot that had settled into the core of their Council.
In the end, the only vote the First Elder truly managed to flip was that of the Eleventh Elder, a vote that had originally been promised to the Fourth Elder but was withdrawn after the truth behind Veyr’s so-called ’talent’ came to light.
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
The sound echoed through the dome-like ceiling, sharp and mocking, as the First Elder began to clap, slow and deliberate, before allowing a bitter chuckle to escape his throat.
"Ha–"
"Hahahaha–"
That chuckle quickly turned into a low, unrestrained laugh.
"So this is how it’s going to be," he said with scorn. His voice rang with fury barely hidden beneath sarcasm. "The gang of shame sticks together."
And then chaos erupted.
The chamber devolved into a storm of raised voices and vicious accusations.
Robes flared, chairs screeched against the stone floor, and elders turned on one another with the kind of venom reserved not for enemies, but for betrayed kin.
Slurs and insults flew freely. Fingers were pointed. Fists clenched, and even the most refined voices of the Council dropped their filters to hurl accusations of cowardice, bribery, incompetence, and treason.
"You spineless old leech, you sold your soul in tonight’s vote!"
"Says the snake who gave up an entire planet last year to the First Elder just to remain in his good graces! Go suck someone else’s dick, don’t mess with me, cocksucker!"
"You call me dishonorable when you tutored Veyr behind the Council’s back?"
"You’re a disgrace to the robes you wear!"
Hands gripped robes. Shoulders were shoved. The chamber of ancient order became a pit of schoolyard squabbling until—
"SILENCE!"
The First Elder’s voice cracked like a whip. It was sharp enough to freeze every breath in the room, as he slammed his fist against the obsidian table.
The echo of the strike reverberated like a gavel through the mess of broken decorum.
"This meeting has proven to be a failure," he declared coldly. "And I no longer have faith that the Council is working for the best interests of the Cult."
His voice carried not only anger, but something far worse: disappointment.
"I am henceforth dissolving this council until further notice."
A stunned hush fell across the room once more.
"I will inform Lord Soron of my decision and let him decide who the next Dragon should be. Because, unlike you fools, I still carry the Cult’s future in my heart above my own political ambition."
His gaze moved slowly across the room, pausing briefly on each of the six who had raised their hands against him, as he burned their betrayal into memory.
"Lord Second is free to accompany me if he wishes, to put forward your side of the story" he added with cold finality. "But I will be damned if I ever convene a council with you traitors again."
And with that, he turned from the obsidian table. His robes swirling as he walked out of the chamber, leaving behind eleven elders, five stunned, five ashamed, and one smiling faintly in bittersweet vindication, as the Council chamber stood dissolved after this disaster of a session.
In the end, no conclusion was reached regarding who should be named the next Dragon, but what did emerge was a far more unsettling truth about the Council’s current state of decay.
The original purpose behind the Elders concealing their identities and refraining from sharing their real names had always been to prevent such covert alliances from forming, maintaining impartiality and unity above all.
Yet over time, those ideals had withered away, and what remained was a council firmly in the grip of block politics, an internal rot that now resembled a spreading cancer, threatening to consume the very soul of the Cult.