The discussion continued, with various clan heads offering suggestions, countering others' proposals, and debating strategy with the intensity of those who understood their species' survival might be at stake.

Jorghan continued to listen, his silence becoming noticeable. Several clan heads glanced his way, perhaps expecting input from someone who'd just demonstrated unprecedented combat capabilities, but he gave no indication he planned to speak.

The sun tracked across the sky, visible through the crystal walls, its angle shifting as afternoon moved toward evening. The discussion grew more heated at times and more frustrated at others as the Council grappled with a problem that had no easy solutions.

Finally, as the sun touched the horizon and the chamber began filling with the golden-orange light of sunset, Madayanti raised her hand for silence.

"We've been at this for hours," she said, her voice carrying the weariness of someone who'd had this same discussion multiple times before with similar lack of resolution.

"We're not going to solve the Empire problem today, and pushing forward while we're all tired will only lead to poor decisions."

She stood, and the rest of the Council followed suit.

"We'll reconvene tomorrow morning to continue strategic planning. For tonight, let us set aside the weight of these concerns and remember that we're also here to celebrate. The Sol'vur has been restored to our number. That's worth acknowledging with something more than grim discussions of genocide and abomination."

She gestured toward the chamber's main exit.

"A banquet has been prepared in the Grand Hall—food from all clans' territories, entertainment, and an opportunity for our people to interact outside formal Council structure. I encourage everyone to attend."

There were murmurs of agreement; clearly everyone was ready for a break from the heavy topics, ready to shift into something more social and less draining.

"The feast begins at sunset," Madayanti concluded.

"We reconvene here at dawn."

-

The Council began filing out of the Assembly Chamber in small groups, clan heads connecting with their companions and advisors, voices rising in conversation now that the formal session had ended.

Jorghan remained in his throne for a moment longer, his eyes still on the holographic displays that continued showing the statistics of captured elves, the locations of known attacks, and the estimated Imperial force deployments.

Sixty thousand elves captured.

Five clans functionally destroyed. Experiments creating abominations that had once been people.

The Empire he'd fought in the desert was the same Empire doing this. The soldiers he'd killed had been part of this system. But they'd just been the visible edge of something much larger, much more systemic.

Sigora appeared beside his throne, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

"You were quiet in there."

"I was listening," Jorghan replied, finally pulling his attention from the displays.

"Understanding the situation before forming opinions. Too many people speak first and think second."

"And now that you've listened? What do you think?"

Jorghan stood, his six-foot frame feeling especially small after sitting in a circle of eight- and nine-foot elves for hours.

"I think the Empire is more dangerous than I realized. I thought the force they sent against the desert settlements was significant. But if that was just one deployment among dozens, if they're running this many operations simultaneously across this much territory—they're not just strong. They're overwhelming."

He turned to face her fully.

"And I think this Council is afraid. Not of me, not really, though some of them are. They're afraid of the Empire, of losing, of watching their species slowly get harvested into extinction. That fear is making them reactive instead of strategic."

"Can you blame them?" Sigora asked quietly.

"Some of them have watched their entire clans disappear."

"No," Jorghan admitted.

"I can't blame them for being afraid. But fear makes for poor strategy. If we're going to survive this, we need to think beyond just defense, beyond just survival. We need to make the Empire regret ever targeting elven populations."

Sigora's expression shifted to something between concern and dark amusement.

"That sounds like the beginning of a plan."

"It's the beginning of an idea," Jorghan corrected.

"Plans require more information than I currently have. But tomorrow, when the discussion continues—I'll have questions. Lots of them."

They joined the flow of people moving toward the Grand Hall, leaving the Assembly Chamber behind. The transition from formal council space to social gathering was palpable—voices became louder, laughter emerged, and the weight of political discussion gave way to the relief of social interaction.

The corridor leading to the Grand Hall was wide and decorated with art representing all thirteen clans, murals, sculptures, and woven tapestries, each one celebrating a different cultural tradition.

Jorghan noticed that a space had been left blank on one wall, clearly reserved for Sol'vur representation once appropriate art could be commissioned.

Ahead, massive doors stood open, and from within came the sounds and smells of a feast in preparation music being tuned, food being arranged, and servers making final preparations for what would clearly be an elaborate affair.

Tadrukein slithered past them—literally, having shifted to a form that was more serpent than humanoid from the waist down, moving with unsettling grace. He paused, his vertical pupils fixing on Jorghan.

"You were wise to stay silent today," the serpent patriarch said.

"The Council was testing you—not just with my challenge, but by watching whether you'd overcommit to strategies before understanding the full situation. You passed."

Before Jorghan could respond, Tadrukein had already moved on.

Citrangada appeared next, her furred form drawing some stares from elves who apparently weren't used to her clan's unique physiology. She grinned at Jorghan with that too-human expression on her inhuman face.

"Dinner should be interesting," she said cheerfully.

"Try the Rudanavas contribution, spiced meat that'll either be the best thing you've ever tasted or convince you that you're dying. There's rarely middle ground."

She left.

"They're all insane," he muttered to Sigora.

"They're all powerful," she corrected.

"Sometimes the difference is hard to distinguish."

They approached the Grand Hall's entrance, and Jorghan took a breath, preparing himself for whatever social complexities awaited.

The Council session had been intense, revealing problems far larger than he'd anticipated.

But for tonight, politics and strategy would wait.

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