The Council of Realms table was shrouded in a haze of tension.
It was an ancient chamber, carved deep within an enchanted mountain, where the seven greatest thrones of the races met to discuss matters of absolute crisis. The crest of Azalith flickered on the living stone walls, while magical echoes silenced the outside world. But within the chamber, chaos was about to erupt.
"Say something, for the love of the Gods!" roared Thorgal, the Dwarf King, pounding the stone table so hard that small cracks formed. His braided beard trembled with fury. "CHILDREN are being slaughtered in the school you insist on defending! In Azalith!"
"Control yourself, Thorgal," said the Western Human Emperor, Hadrian Borealis, calmly, his hands clasped together over his golden robe. His voice was as firm as steel, yet as cold as ice. We need more information before we act. Besides, Azalith is an institution shared by all our people. The responsibility lies with all of us."
