Order of the Seraphs - War Room - Razlin:

  “Open the doors. Razlin is coming,” a voice commanded. Two guards opened the massive doors leading to the war room.

  The war room was adorned with battle paintings, swords, and axes lining the walls. King Dela Mar’s armor stood proudly on a wooden mannequin. The centerpiece was a table crafted from Elvish wood, a gift from Felis to King Dela Mar. Each seat had its own stern, with four vases holding ale nearby. The room itself was spacious and tall, its walls a mix of concrete, marble, and hints of silver.

  Razlin strode through the doors, her gaze sweeping over her ten generals and ten vice generals. “Vice generals, leave,” she said sternly, taking her seat and extending her stern. As a maid approached with ale, Razlin surveyed her generals: Tito, Mithaos, Septon, Kozak, Naru, Teresa, Serenty, Balsmith, Rickstin, and Percival.

  “My queen, it’s mid-morning,” Tito said softly.

  Razlin fixed him with a stare before addressing a maid. “Fill everyone’s stern. You, fetch bread and cheese.” She took a deep breath. “Until this meeting concludes, everyone may speak freely without punishment. Address me as Razlin. Understood?”

  The generals collectively agreed, murmuring among themselves.

  “I’ll speak first,” Razlin said calmly. “Some of you seem disappointed with my handling of Xander. Let me explain. Xander is my ex-husband, missing for fifty years. I pardoned him for war crimes from the third great war that Wally pinned on him. Sinjin’s nephew Jax’s death was justified, given his unauthorized presence on Seraph lands. Xander’s actions against this kingdom weren’t disregarded; he was exiled. Let’s discuss.”

  The generals fell silent, studying Razlin.

  Rickstin spoke up. “You should have handed Xander over to Wally.”

  “Rickstin, you’ve been my general for a year. Have you read about the third great war?” Razlin asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

  “I skimmed the text, Razlin,” Rickstin admitted.

  “Exactly. Do you think he would go willingly?” Razlin’s gaze swept the table. “Does anyone believe we could subdue him for transport to Braxton?”

  The generals muttered amongst themselves.

  Percival spoke confidently, “Razlin, he couldn’t take us all at once. We were all here; we could easily bring him down.”

  Tito looked at Percival. “You missed her point.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Tito? Get your head out of your ass. Always kissing her c—”

  Razlin fixed Percival with a piercing stare.

  “EXCUSE—” Tito began but was cut off.

  Razlin interlocked her hands in front of her chin, leaning forward. “Percival, you’re the youngest here at twenty five. Let me refresh your memory. The fight I had with Xander in this keep showed only a fraction of his power. I was holding back, intending to match him. He kept scaling to my level. I merely held him off long enough to banish him. A full fight would have destroyed this Order and lasted moons. The issue is—none of us here can kill him. We’re all Arc sigil users. Arc blades won’t kill him, and only a few of us even have those.”

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  Percival laughed, “Razlin, that’s a joke, right? There are only Arc sigil users.” His confidence was absolute.

  “No, Percival. There are two stages above Arc,” Tito interjected.

  The generals muttered among themselves, concern evident.

  “What the gods are you talking about?” Percival snapped at Tito. “Stop making things up. This is absolutely crap. Let me guess, Xander is the next step up?”

  Tito sighed.

  Mithaos spoke up. “I’ve had enough of this bickering. It’s making me nauseous. Percival, since you haven’t read the texts on sigils, let me enlighten you. Ancient Elvish texts, presumed accurate, state there are three levels of sigils. First is Arc Sigil, which most of us have. Second is Titan, of which only six have been found throughout history. To our knowledge, no one currently possesses one. There are also a few Titan blades, which none of us have. Then there’s the—”

  “This is preposterous! Absolute outlandish nonsense from a bunch of elves!” Percival interrupted, downing his ale and extending his arm for a refill.

  A maid made her way over to refill Percival’s cup with ale.

  Mithaos glared at Percival.

  Septon tried to interject, “Some of us have been with Xander for a long time, Percival. No Arc—”

  “Enough!” Rickstin cut in. “The point is, he isn’t an Arc user. Why hasn’t this been addressed before?”

  “Who appointed you general?” Septon snapped angrily. “Are you done acting like fools? Xander is also the one who helps end wars.”

  Percival scoffed at Septon.

  “If it were any other man, the Queen of the Order of the Seraphs would have marked him for death,” Serenity began calmly. “I’ve gathered all this information today, and I will invoke the twelfth tenet of the Order of the Seraphs. I hereby renounce myself, Serenity, as general of the ninth platoon. I seek asylum outside the domain of the Order of the Seraphs.”

  Razlin rested her elbows on the war table, interlocked her hands, and closed her eyes. Shit.

  “You can’t resign, Serenity... We need you!” Rickstin said, staring at Serenity.

  The other generals looked at Serenity with shock.

  Rickstin followed suit, his voice stern. “As do I. I invoke the twelfth tenet of the Order of the Seraphs. I hereby renounce myself, Rickstin, as general of the eighth platoon. I seek asylum outside the domain of the Order of the Seraphs.”

  “Well, fuck,” Percival chimed in, a hint of glee in his voice. “I’ll use the twelfth tenet too. I hereby renounce myself, Percival, as general of the tenth platoon. I seek asylum outside the domain of the Order of the Seraphs.”

  All eyes turned to Razlin.

  She took another deep breath. “All three requests are granted. Be warned: you are not allowed to step back into this domain, or you will be executed. You’ll be marked as traitors to the crown and deserters.”

  “That’s harsh,” Percival muttered.

  The three generals began removing their Seraph armor, the pieces clanking as they hit the ground.

  “Anyone else?” Razlin asked. The remaining generals murmured their dissent.

  “Good. Once you leave this room, you are generals of the Order of The Seraphs, and I am Queen Razlin. This meeting is adjourned.”

  The generals finished their wine, bread, and cheese in total silence before leaving one by one.

  As Naru left, Tito suddenly emerged from the room, grabbed Naru by the neck, and pushed him against the wall.

  “What the fuck did you do and say to those generals?” Tito whispered furiously.

  Naru whispered back, “Nothing.”

  Tito studied Naru’s face. “You’re the general who appointed those three,” he said, anger evident.

  “Like I said, I didn’t do or say anything to them,” Naru replied with a grin. Tito released him, stepping back.

  They stared at each other as Naru continued down the hallway, turning to grin at Tito once more.

  Back in the war room, Razlin addressed the maids. “Leave the armor there. I’ll have the guards move it when I leave. I’d like to eat this meal in peace.” The maids bowed and left.

  As Razlin ate, she noticed Tito at the door. “Come in and sit, Tito.”

  “Yes, my queen. We need to talk,” Tito said hastily.

  Razlin looked at Tito with a blank face.