text: Aella. Torches lined the walls of the cobblestone chamber, waves of smoke lifting from them. Charred meats and disappointing ale had been placed along the length of the council table, but none were tasted. Lord Aella sat uneasy at the large table with the other nine men whom he called brothers, the men waited patiently for the Queen to arrive. Lord Pomeran Royk paced back and forth on the far side of the room, refusing to take his seat. “It’s death,” Lord Pomeran insisted, “What other reason does she have for summoning the council so late.” Pomeran’s words had been in Aella’s thoughts, though he dared not speak them into existence. A summoning this late could only mean death and the only death worth the worry of the council was the Kings. The large oak door of the chamber rattled for a moment before being eased open, four guards entered; knights of the kingdom. Their polished steel armor was emblazoned with the sigil of the Kraken, each man wore their reinforced helms, completely covering their faces. They kept their hands on the hilts of the swords and the chamber grew even more uneasy. The Queen entered behind the guards in a long flowing black dress, she wore a darkened vail that had been pushed back to show her face, the faces of all the men of the council dropped at the sight of the vail. “Her face looks ready for a tourney,” Aella thought to himself, “She keeps us waiting at this hour to do her bloody hair?” Four more guards entered the chamber behind the Queen and toke their places against the walls of the chamber, the silver trim on their black cloaks caught the light as they stood between the torch placements. Two of the guards ushered a rather nervous looking Pomeran to his chair at the table. Each of the seated Lords rose to greet the Queen, bowing their heads and waiting for her to take her seat. “The King is dead.” She sighed as she eased down into her seat, “We must sort out the succession at once.” The chamber fell completely silent, Aella glanced up and down the table trying not to draw attention to himself, no man made eye contact and none dared to speak. “Damn that bloody oath.” Aella sighed before raising his hand slightly, “What must be sorted?” Aella asked with a crack in his voice, “Prince Tarhun should be summoned from down South at once.” “I love Tarhun as if her were my own son.” The Queen insisted, “But he is no King. I am the King’s lawful wife and my son; the first son of your King and your Queen should seat the throne. Tarhun is thousands of miles away, my son Nadarr shall be named King.” Aella gripped the arm rest of his chair tight, his jaw tensed, he was unsure if he would be able to find the words to speak but tried nonetheless, “We swore a vow.” Aella reminded the men at the table, Aella looked up and down at his fellow Lords, meeting each of their eyes, “The King had us pledge our swords to Tarhun, he is the King’s first son and from a lawful marriage.” Aella looked over to the Queen, her face showed no emotion, “Fine.” The Queen said plainly, “We should have a vote.” Hushed mutterings began to break out amongst the Lords at the table, “Who else here believes Tarhun should be summoned for the throne?” The Queen asked. Aella raised his hand, so did two others. There was a rattle of chain behind him, Aella felt cold steel press against his neck, a brief moment past before Aella’s throat began to burn and his vision fade.