"Jorghan," she murmured, her voice meant only for him.

"Perhaps this isn't the time or place."

The tension in the hall was thick enough to cut.

Then, through the gathered crowd, another presence emerged.

The elves parted immediately, their movements reverent and instinctive.

She moved like water given form, each step deliberate and hypnotic. Her height matched the tallest elves present, her figure impossibly curved and perfect in ways that seemed designed to captivate. But it was more than physical beauty.

Her skin held a smooth, cool-toned cerulean blue that seemed almost porcelain, glowing with gentle inner light. The color gave her an ethereal quality that set her apart from every other elf present.

Her hair flowed like liquid darkness, long and glossy black with the faintest hints of midnight blue catching the light. It moved around her as if possessed of its own will.

But her eyes captured attention most completely. Piercing silver-gray with hints of icy blue near the iris, they held an intelligence that felt ancient and absolute. Those eyes missed nothing, saw through everything, and judged without mercy.

Her long and elegant elven ears bore decorative gold jewelry that caught the light with each movement. Her features held a perfect balance between soft beauty and cold authority.

The white silken dress she wore clung to her form, speaking of nobility and power in equal measure.

Every male in the hall seemed to physically react to her presence, their postures straightening, their breathing changing. Her figure was a perfect symbol for lust, with her narrow waist followed by the plump ass, and with every movement, they jiggled, eliciting reactions from the male elves in the hall. Her long, taut legs and the perfect round, firm bosom held by the fabric with a deep V-line jumped up and down, drawing the attention of even female elves.

No one was immune to her charms; she was dangerously alluring and enchanting to the deeper levels.

She moved to stand beside Aetheus with elegant grace.

Aetheus immediately inclined his head.

"My lady."

Her silver eyes swept across the hall, taking in everything with a single glance, and finally stopped near Jorghan.

When she spoke, her voice carried a melodic quality that demanded attention without effort.

"Now that was some heavy words thrown out at each other."

"Both of you hold valid perspectives," she said, her tone neither warm nor cold.

"To add my piece."

"You walk different paths, lead different lives, and serve different purposes. There is no singular truth in matters of power and principle."

Jorghan watched her carefully, his expression neutral but his focus absolute. He didn't recognize her, and that itself was unusual. But he could tell that everyone in the hall knew her, and from the way Kael'var and Aetheus were being submissive, he could tell she was some notable person.

She turned to face him fully, and the weight of her gaze was considerable.

"What you have become is commendable, Jorghan Sol'vur," she said, her words measured and deliberate.

"You have forged yourself into something formidable. But remember always that power should illuminate the mind, not corrupt it.

Strength is a tool, not a master. The moment you serve your power instead of wielding it, you become less than what you could be."

With those words, she turned and moved away, Kael'var and Aetheus falling into step beside her before watching Jorghan one last time.

The crowd parted before them like water before a ship's bow.

Jorghan remained still, watching them leave.

Sigora moved to his side, her voice low.

"That was Ekatarina Wisett. She's called the Shaman Witch. Doesn't belong to any clan, doesn't claim any territory. She wanders where she wishes, answers to no one."

"Why is she with Kael'var and that man?"

Jorghan asked, his tone neutral.

Sigora shook her head slightly.

"I don't know. That's what troubles me. She appears rarely, and when she does, it's never without reason. Her presence here, with them specifically..." She paused.

"I'm sure Korreth is up to something."

Korreth wasn't present in the hall as she looked for him. He brought a bunch of elves from Nor'vack, and she couldn't even see one of them.

But she noticed Meytiri talking with other clan ladies. Annoyance crossed her face as she stared at her. Sigora's marriage had been dissolved, and she was no longer the official wife of Korreth, but seeing her made him annoyed a little.

Jorghan watched the three figures disappear from the hall, his red tattoos pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. The shaman witch's words echoed in his mind, unwelcome but persistent.

The game had become more complex.

-

After the intense debate, everyone resumed their evening drinks and enjoyed their feast.

Meanwhile, Jorghan was examining a display of Rudanavas clan artwork, fascinated by the way they incorporated their unique physiology into their aesthetic traditions, when he felt a shift in the crowd's energy behind him.

He turned to find a group approaching, and recognition was immediate. Because the elves from every clan were greeting them. And Jorghan knew the young elf leading them.

Kel'mars led them, the young Amasurata who'd confronted Jorghan in the street. His nose was still swollen despite magical healing, bruises were visible on his jaw, and his movements carried the stiffness of someone whose ribs hadn't fully recovered.

Behind him were his five companions, all showing similar signs of their encounter. They moved with considerably less swagger than they'd displayed during their first meeting.

The crowd around them had gone quiet, conversations stopping as elves recognized the potential for drama. Some moved closer, eager to witness whatever was about to happen. Others retreated, not wanting to be caught in the middle if violence erupted.

Jorghan set down his wine goblet and turned to face them fully, his expression neutral but his posture shifting subtly.

Sigora appeared at his side immediately, her body language protective despite knowing he didn't need protection. Several other elves moved closer as well, representatives from clans friendly to the Sol'vur, creating a loose formation that suggested Jorghan wasn't alone if this turned hostile.

Kel'mars stopped perhaps ten feet away, and for a long moment, the two groups simply stared at each other.

Then, to the surprise of most observers, Kel'mars bowed.

Not a casual nod of acknowledgment, but a full formal bow from the waist, held for three full seconds before straightening. His companions followed suit, their movements synchronized and carrying genuine respect rather than mockery.

"Jorghan Sol'vur," Kel'mars said, his voice carrying clearly in the sudden quiet.

"I came to apologize."

Jorghan's eyebrows rose fractionally, but he remained silent, waiting for elaboration.

"What we did in the street was inexcusable," Kel'mars continued, his words clearly rehearsed but carrying genuine contrition.

"We saw someone unfamiliar, someone who didn't fit our narrow understanding of what belonged in Dewura'tt, and we responded with cruelty rather than hospitality.

We dishonored our clan, our city, and ourselves."

He touched his still-swollen nose gingerly.

"You had every right to do far worse than you did. You showed restraint when you could have shown violence. Mercy when you could have chosen vengeance. That's the mark of someone worthy of respect, and we failed to recognize it."

One of his companions stepped forward, the one who'd made comments about Sigora. He looked directly at her, his expression carrying shame.

"Lady Sigora, the things I said were vile. I have no excuse beyond youth and stupidity, and I recognize those aren't actually excuses at all. I am deeply, profoundly sorry for the disrespect I showed you."

Sigora's expression remained stern, though Jorghan could see slight softening at the edges. "Apologies are meaningless without changed behavior. What matters is whether you learn from this or simply regret getting caught."

Jorghan could tell that someone made them do it and ordered them to apologize in front of everybody.

"We've learned," Kel'mars said firmly.

"Lady Yaudheyi made certain of that."

Jorghan studied them for a long moment, his crimson eyes moving from face to face, reading sincerity levels, assessing whether this was genuine contrition or simply fear of consequences.

He just nodded towards them.

Kel'mars and others just left. It seemed like they were trying to give importance to Jorghan, and the fact that members from the powerful clan apologized for their rude behavior garnered attention from the other elf clans. Quickly, murmurs spread through the hall; Kel'mars was known to everyone, and his ways of bullying the weak, and to see him submissive in front of Jorghan, it was indeed odd for them.

Jorghan frowned, wondering why they went to such lengths to display such an apology.

From the moment he was here, they were being overly courteous towards him, a single individual whose father had terrified them to the core. And offering him a place and now this public apology, something prickled at his senses, but he couldn't quite catch on to it.

Amasurata clan, Jorghan thought that he needed to be careful when dealing with them.

The six clan leaders were still huddled in their alcove, clearly planning something.

And the weight of being the Council's newest and most controversial member was becoming increasingly apparent with each passing moment.

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