WARNING: The following content contains references to physical abuse. Readers' discretion is advised.

"Today is the fourteenth day in the One Thousandth, Twenty-First Pure Season, and this day, we assemble ourselves under the reign of King Otla Purday Casudal the Eleventh."

Under the violet, crystal corona, High Commander Nave Hardaran saluted with his ritualistic preliminaries, his pale face purpling and his stubble beard glistening like glitter from the lighting, which lulled we sleepy executives in and out of consciousness.

"We, as worthy officers under His Majesty, will honor the convening established for this moment, and we will honor the circumstance which has called us together, without defiance of its intent and substance. We shall hold these values true to our whole discussion this day..."

Half-listening to the High Commander's benevolent-commander introduction forced at the crack of morning, my mind roamed to Jorel's possible whereabouts. His neutralization should have prevented him from using a Bond on me for several days, and thus I thought I was in the clear in hopes the Shol Elders would know nothing about this meeting. So many questions lingered about his existence, where he came from, why he wished to wait it out, what his foresight revealed, still denying I had a curiosity about them. In the meantime...

"We also have the honorary Justice Harper Celt-Sone with us today," the High Commander's hand cued to me. Standing, I bowed my hooded head with a nod that dismissed my thoughts on Jorel and the Commander's seeming emphasis on my honor, and then I sat back on them and the silence. Commander Hardaran husked. "Now, let us get started, shall we?

"First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for being patient with me this early in the morning. I don't like to make you all come here after a long, rough day either, so I had to decide between the two. I find that people are more alert and sharp in the morning after waking up a bit, so I hope you all can understand."

Sure, we understand, my eyes rolled in mind. Ira had a difficult time getting up early, so I walked on without her, through the fields and through the mountain trail, where inquisitors found nooks to get in my face and quiz me about what happened in the city the night before. But, that was aside the point now. I had better odds getting Ira up early than having the High Commander participate without refusal in a meeting, especially knowing I would attend.

"Now that that's out of the way," Commander Hardaran said, "Let's try to make this as time efficient as we can, starting with our Divisional Commander of Cymel-Seson for a progress report for military relations in this Season." He saluted to his right Divisional Commander Joser and his scrawny, wrinkled body, and they exchanged places.

Scanning the maps and marks covering the dark walls, eying from Vorda Executive Kan Slunk's square head resting in his palm to the High Commander pinching at his victorious pins decorating his uniform's chest, I thumbed the side of my hood with Commander Joser's toady jokes to ease his shame in lacking progress.

"Whenever you've got a whole army of Blends wanting to run over the Wall, you just build them higher so they would be too tired to climb. After all, they could use Shol and not get caught, hmhm," he sarcastically joked.

In other words, his orders produced little to resolve the emigration situation in Cymel-Seson, and his bantering about my kind did not make his argument better for me. At least he admitted the Cymerian government budget assisted with protecting Blends from Dosonite missionaries, despite many of those missionaries coming from Doson-Seson.

Next up stood Divisional Commander Fodes of the city of Lorn, forlorn of his city's lack of monetary attraction, unlike that of Cymel-Seson. Apparently, Dosonites passed through Lorn and left a heap of havoc to clean with leftover Blends and Cymerians eager to flee to Doson. Not only this, but Lorn gathered much traction due to its Vorda Crags in the red, for Eva-En's body lied there upon discovery. Unfortunately, Nodus 1718 would only make it much more red for him and his city.

No one made me more red during the meeting than how Divisional Commander Desonne of Gerush did once he stood after Fodes. Commander Desonne captured my respect through his serious countenance, his violet cape shadowing us with his immense stance. From his taut greetings to we honors to his worthy explanations, he surpassed all traditional authority with his passion for nature.

"So far, we have been able to deter Shol research campaigns through the adjustments of trade tariffs and border control fronts, and with the stable, government budget expected for the Pure Seson, we will be able to enforce entire sentries as necessary for further restraint protocol."

While he thought through his plans without gaps, he did not consider the wiggle room. There would be a possibility that setting tariffs could have infringed Nodus 1718 if adjusted at the targets the slightest. Concerning enough, the dependency on the Cymerian government's budget carried on the shoulders of elites could have also been at probable stake. Not only the budget would suffer, but the festivals to come in a few weeks would have added to the issue through desires of "reasonable" travel among citizens, including my Dosonite mother.

Safe to proceed, Commander Desonne flipped his wavy, hazel side hair bangs. "I propose that we vote on using unified, maximum efficiency in the Vorda Stones around our Bordering cities, that is Cymel-Seson, Gerush, and Lorn. Limited emigration policies dividing our country will escalate conflict among travelers in Lorn and Cymel-Seson, and there are plenty of Dosonite slave refugees entering our land. By increasing the efficiency of the Vorda Stones, Doson's Shol production as well as the Shol weather patterns of the Pure Season should become less of an issue to dissipate. The accident yesterday has gained significant attention which may be of another reason for our cause — to prevent another Shol Blackout disaster."

Clear enough, he blamed the Pre-Blackout incident on the Shol production in Doson. Despite its convincing circumstances, the truth haunted me: it was the Shol Elders. Thinking on Jorel again, I started practicing to myself what to ask him, while the Commander Desonne overachieved his report, over explaining military recruitments of full-blooded Tritausen, Gerush emigration policies, and so forth.

The serious commander found himself a seat after finishing, and High Commander Hardaran pulled himself up again. "We have now been heard, and let us vote a proposal into action before we leave today. By command of King Purday, I have been ordered to see to the Pre-Blackout's event yesterday, that is by making an amendment to an order I requested you" — he eyed the half-awake Vorda Executives — "Saying that the Stones must not be tampered with. Also, we will vote on further border policies to limit two-way travel, for now, without interfering with Nodus 1718."

Over the dark, smooth table, I caught Desonne holding his stone, pale glare on the High Commander beside him, but then he must have sensed my eyes on him, turning my way. I clicked my eyes back to the speaking Commander, noticing Vorda Executive Kan Slunk roll his tongue in his mouth.

"Let us propose," Commander Hardaran leaned his weight on his hands resting on the table. "For those who propose we maximize the efficiency and Vorda Stone usage in Lorn, Gerush, and Cymel-Seson, say 'I.'"

"I."

"I."

"I."

Each "I" came with their own early morning grumble or swift agreement, except from me and Vorda Executive Yul Imau. "Nay." Surprised, he glanced in my direction. As he was, I was rather surprised a typical Cymerian conservative like him would agree with an anti-Shol right, to agree with a Blend like me.

"Well, I'd say you're outnumbered," the High Commander scoffed toward we naysayers. "Proposal admitted. We will maximize Vorda Stone usage in Lorn, Gerush, and Cymel-Seson unless higher command denies." By the way, that "higher command" could have included me, only if this meeting were a Nodus and I had the rest of the High Counsel's input. That meeting was not a Nodus, and thus on its contingent situation, the hierarchy mattered less.

"Now, let us vote on the tightening of border control," he continued, "Implementing emigration control using contemporary, native methods. For those who agree with its implementation, say 'I.'" And those "I's" came fast, except for Vorda Executive Kan Slunk. Now that could have been a decision based on his morning weariness. Nevertheless, we outnumbered him, and it did pass.

All in all, now the three cities at the country of Cymel's extremeties — Gerush, Lorn, and Cymel-Seson — were bound to rely on the Cymerian government's shaky budget to tighten border control and to heighten the Vorda Stone's resistance to Shol power at its greatest levels. If what Jorel said was true of the Shol Elders' involvement, this countermeasure would have been useless. Their power stood above that of Vorda Stones, and I saw more issues to come down the road. Perhaps Executive Imau contemplated the same.

Concluded with my reports on Nodi legislated in the past week in the Military Division, including ones on military recruitments of full-blooded Tritausen, as well as ended on the High Commander assigning roles and giving orders, the meeting was adjourned. At this point, we participants accepted our fate to stay awake for the rest of the day, while some worked in for an after-meeting chat.

"I mean, think about it," Commander Jokester — I mean — Joser chuckled with the Vorda Executives. "We call this season 'Pure' for what? It's Pure-blooded Shol! Ahahaha!"

When they joked about Shol Auroras and Tritausen, my mind went straight to Jorel again, determined for a prompt departure to meet up with him, scooping up my transcripts and quill pens.

"Justice Celt-Sone," Commander Desonne's taut voice sounded beside me. In the corner of my eye, I found him bowing his neck, raising his noble, Cymerian-marked wrist, revealing the encircled symbol. "It is always an honor."

I faced him, holding my possessions close. "Please, at ease." Watching him lift his head and lower his wrist, I smiled. "I appreciate it, Commander. If it weren't for you, it wouldn't be such an honor, because I was about to run out of here, hmhm."

He didn't laugh, setting my nervous titter back to its humbled foundation. "Don't run too far," he said. On top of Commander Desonne's serious mask, he had another side to him. "Speaking of running, how is Ira?" A tender, kind streak for nature on the inside.

"Oh, oh, Ira? I'm not sure if you are aware or not, but Ira panicked last night when we were leaving the city. The Pre-Blackout and the busy life there scared her, but she is doing better. I decided to let her sleep this morning so the travel back to Cymeria would be less tense for her."

"Always on her twin toes, hmhm. The traffic in Cymel-Seson has shifted tremendously since Nodus 1718's legislation — no doubt." He was close to me enough that I could see the red markings etching in my reflection in his hazel eyes. "I haven't heard about her episode, but I hope she will come though, which she will. Be patient with her."

Nodding, I watched him go ahead, his face staring forward. He must have mentioned Nodus 1718 for a distinct reason, perhaps that he disagreed with its legislation too or realized its consequences in Gerush. His full-blooded, Cymerian nobility, despite his family being well known for their trade ownership and trade with Tritausen slaves shipped in from previous wars, did not define who he wanted to be. He still fought for the Blends on a few occasions.

"Harper," the High Commander barked across the room, to whom I turned. Based on his disrespectful address and on his voice, I ruled it was going to be a rough conversation from the start. I made an obvious mistake.

"Let me have a word with you," he beckoned me over, isolating me from the leftover conversations. As I passed by the silencing talkers, I minded Desonne's concern for Ira and how I would have her take me home later, my feet inching over toward the High Commander. Though my rank stood higher than his, apprehension settled me in as some speakers made way for me.

Commander Hardaran started toward the back of the room, where an arch divided another sector of the meeting room, and he walked through it as I followed behind. The purple lighting ceased to a shadowy dim in this miniature meeting room, but his silver eyes remained lit. I looked up into his wrinkled face, rubbing my chilled arms.