Stilled Conviction

The moment I finished Reflected Reset and Sealed Departure, I turned my attention to the political satire my patrons requested. Though I often blend my tales with science fiction, coming fresh off a follow-up to Tumultuous Beginning, I realized I had the perfect vessel for a political satire. The opportunity to explore the Council, an institution that will come to dominate this world was far too compelling to ignore.

I’ve hinted at their power many times across my stories, but this marks the first occasion the Council steps out of the shadows. Within their vaulted chamber of power, conviction often masquerades as wisdom. Their torches burn brightly enough to chase away darkness, but never their arrogance.

The story unfolds not in the chaos of battle, but in the quiet theater of politics. Where pride sharpens tongues and every word is an act of control. When an unexpected interruption fractures the Council’s illusion of order, their unity unravels, revealing what conviction truly looks like when it stands still.

This tale explores the stillness that follows certainty, the kind born not from understanding, but from the fear of being wrong. It is a moment of power frozen mid-motion, as inevitable as the drip of candle wax flowing down ancient stone.

The leaders of the council stared across the table as the silence thickened between them. Candles burned steadily along the walls, wax trailing down the candlesticks like slow tears. The mage wearing the most ornate robes gripped his staff and struck the floor twice. “Today we are ready to crown our ranks with exceptional wisdom. Thobin’s long-awaited ascension will mark this day in history. We will look back at this moment with nothing but joy.”

A soft murmur of approval passed through the council chamber as quills scratched parchment. A moment later, councilor Meras offered a thin smile as she raised her cup. “Rhenalt, you are correct in stating that it is beyond time for Thobin to assume his rightful place. But will you force him, a mage who’s a superior talent, to sit as your subservient?”

“That’s an excellent question,” another said. “Everyone knows the two of you have been at odds for years.”

As Rhenalt plucked his goblet off the table, he swirled the contents. He stared into the swirling amber liquid, his lips curling into a faint smile. A sharp crack split the air like shattering glass. In the middle of the table, a green blaze erupted without consuming the wooden surface. As the flames spread, Vonora’s body appeared. With another loud peal of thunder, Vonora coughed into her arm as smoke wafted from her clothing.

“How did you bypass our defenses?!” Meras asked, leaping to her feet. She stabbed a finger toward the newcomer, venom dripping with each word of accusation. “She breached our wards! After all our safeguards, how’d she manage that?”