All heads turned as the four individuals representing Glacia, D'varoh, and Yghastia strode forth, walking through the double doors. A pallid streak of light peeked through like a second dawn as the doors opened to reveal the two political representatives and their guards walking in lockstep. The tower’s ribbed interior seemed to be pressing against more than Sekaia's punishing gravity. Jenniah burst forth, forcing her way ahead before greeting Ubloi. Her boots clicked on the imported D’varoan obsidian tile; her eyes appeared to blaze like orange suns, glowing in the dim interior. The clicks of her boot falls echoed through the room, a sound more related to a ballpeen hammer than footsteps.

  “Oh host, I Jenniah Amaurita Brava, junior representative of Glacia, daughter of the esteemed chieftain of the Skaldlands, present to you our most anticipated guest: General of the 5th Wing – Itharaak Colrui, of Clan Colrui, the Fifth Ring of the Holy Imperium of D’varoh.” The Yghastian guard responsible for the glacian iluun’s protection gestured toward Targe and Itharaak. The two walked forward and paused inside the ring of delegates that had formed before them.

  “I take it we will be moving to the Committee Forum,” Itharaak stated. His tone was matter of fact. The pallid light seemed to pierce the transparasteel walls supported by the ribbed reinforced and cabled columns, producing a haunting spotlight.

  Ubloi dusted his cufflinks before looking at Jenniah from the side of his eye. Trembling fingers adjusted a pressed collar. Turning his head to meet Itharaak’s gaze, he held back the lump rising from his throat. Ubloi took a breath. He shifted his weight, suddenly aware of the slight incline of this industrial installation.

  “Yes, esteemed guest. Let us descend to the forum.”

  The scent of incense clogged the room, a necessary social precaution; a deliberate and ceremonial mask considering the reason each country had assembled. Inqui, Aedlaan, Yghastia, and Neo Yghastia all represented the interests of the Yghastian Union. D’varoh, The Elkin Shores, and the Fey Conclaves were all expressing their own interests individually, with D’varoh having an undue effect on the world at large.

  Each representative sat along a long table forged from a translucent steel beam, an Insian import manufactured from D'varoh. It's sturdiness and density seemed to threaten collapsing the tower around it.

  Ubloi stayed standing, his head pointed toward the door behind him. Turning back to his guests, he bowed. He stood beside a lift from which a platform would spiral upward. On the lift was the most important person in the room, let alone the current Union.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Esteemed guest, I am but the host of this summit. And as such, it would be the greatest disrespect to represent the great nation of Yghastia.” He locked his knee as he tried to slow his breathing.

  “I present to you Yghastia 's face of Ora’Laho. The most esteemed exemplar of Nexus and state's policy, rider of the 8 great fleets, herald of Pluviose’s storm, Great Khan Aizehir Zephtiir, Great Lance of Eigyst.”

  Now it was Itharaak 's turn to brace. Aizehir was known to have a personality as uncompromising as Almia’s. The room seemed to spiral as tightly as the wires forming the ribbed rings distributing the rain collector’s weight.

  Up from the lower floors upon a rising platform, stood a figure resplendent in fur and lamellar. His Stribex leather jacket glimmered in the faint incandescent light, suggesting a hunter and a vanguard. When the lift finally stopped, he walked forward, making sure to clasp Ubloi 's hand and body in a hug before approaching the assembly. He took a seat and looked each delegate in the eye before stopping at Itharaak. Itharaak held his stare.

  “Let us start with the issue of the Arem Accords. May I esteemed committee, just say that we are happy to announce that this city, Khaihylo-Kli, sits directly over a well. We have just begun the construction of moisture collectors to draw up water to help augment our water collection submarines.” He surveyed the room as his chest swelled and his gut warmed.

  “The time is coming where we can finally resolve the crisis. It's time to unshackle ourselves from the Accord.” He waved his hand over the delegation. “And this massive feat of dew and rain collection shall stand as testament to that.”

  Itharaak’s heart skipped a beat, but not for expected reasons. Akitch had made some breakthroughs in coolant sciences that had the potential of decreasing D'varoh's load on Arem, another artery within Sekaia's circulatory system. However, Aizehir was known as one to act first, especially if it was a protective measure.

  Ispario Marioco barked, a deep “Hra!” to catch the room's attention. The Inquian diplomat addressed the Khan. “I understand we are less dependent on Xelryia’s water. But we still benefit from the Accords clauses on construction and infrastructure.”

  Delegate Ylvaine joined in, his mild mannered tone barely rising above the silence. “I agree. Aedlaan 's imports to D'varoh have increased our Economic MARF score by 3. The Coastal Center of Sorcer Arts reports community stabilization and collective cogn-emotive health has been at an all-time high these past 20 years. Severing ourselves completely from this agreement could have unintended consequences.”

  Itharaak spoke up. “Perhaps we can amend the accords. The rain catchers may not have had the yield we had expected, but we all seem to have benefited from our compromise.”

  Aizehir clasped his chin. His eyes seemed far off, almost lost in time. It was difficult for Itharaak to gauge his feelings. After what seemed like a century, the Khan answered.

  “We will continue after our lunch. First we will talk about more urgent matters over hot plate and drink.” Aizehir stretched out his hand. A lance of flame sprouted from his palm, reaching out for the beam. The table started to shimmer like a liquid glass oasis, the heat twisting the air in a sort of mirage. The Khan clapped his hands. “Bring in the food and let us sing up the issue of Ranova and the recent incident in Tachnen Spaceport.”

  Itharaak sighed with relief. ‘At least they were get

  ting the hard part over with.’