The Council of Storms

With the Laws of Balance, a chain of power had emerged. On the seventy-fifth Sunshift of every year, the great powers of Tyrrha attend the Council of Storms, deep in the Silent Waste. And every year, the tension is palpable. A caravan of Urthnaki representatives from the south would bring orc-slaves, spices and agrotechnological inventions to the Council. Rows of Hordesman accompanied the caravan, armed to the teeth, protecting the carriages with steel dedication. The Imperial Company’s Magistrates brought gemstones, gold, and of course, refined capsules of “Mira”. Stored into encrypted titanium containers, there is no mistaking the gravity of the arrangement that would take place. For reasons of security, the Elvae advisor-interpreters of both courts would oversee the transaction, mediating in the strained Duxa-Urthnaki affairs. Weighing and measuring with mathematical precision, ensuring nothing was left unturned.

Despite the expectancy of sabotaging the transaction, in the past seventy-three years, incidents rarely occurred. And if they did occur, they were stricken down by man and orc together. Not as friends, not at all. But as factions protecting their common interests. What was held unimaginable unfolded at the Council of Storms every seventy-fifth Sunshift of every year. A victory for those in power. But for those on the fringes of society, the leaching continued. They waited. And waited. Until the moment of change arrived.