The council chamber of Seven Gates was alive with murmurs,Dian walked slowly towards the council.
Seven gates banners are flowing in the wind . The seats was filled—lords, generals, elders, and magistrates—each bearing the weight of unrest on their faces.
At the center sat Queen Gorika, composed yet visibly strained. Beside her, Yakubo remained silent, his hands folded, eyes lowered as if listening to something beyond the room.
Dian entered with measured steps.
He bowed low, flawless in form, the image of devotion and loyalty. Only those who knew him well might have noticed the tension in his jaw before he straightened and took his seat.
Gorika rose.
"We all know why we are gathered," she said, her voice steady but lacking its usual certainty. "The Arkan Clan was once bound to us by treaty. That peace, however fragile, has shattered. Kingdoms report occupation. Kings have been stripped of power. People whisper of enslavement."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"Still," Gorika continued, lifting her chin, "Seven Gates was founded on justice—not fear. Peace must remain our first choice."
Dian did not react.
But his fingers curled slowly against the armrest.
Before the silence could settle, Xan rose sharply from his seat.
"Peace?" His voice cracked through the chamber. "Your Majesty, with respect—peace was what we offered Knox. And what did we receive in return? Blood. Humiliation."
He turned, addressing the council as much as the queen.
"The Arkan Clan destroys what it touches. Their rule is not liberation—it is domination. People suffer under them, silenced by steel. To dream of peace with such creatures is like a frog dreaming it can fly."
The words struck hard.
Gorika stared at him, stunned—not by his argument, but by the fury behind it.
Xan exhaled sharply, then added, more quietly, "Justice means nothing if we allow injustice to thrive beyond our walls."
An elder rose next—Xalin, his back bent by age but his voice unyielding.
"A war avoided too long becomes a war lost," he said. "Seven Gates is not merely a court of law. It is a sanctuary. Innocents depend on us. If we wait for Arkan blades to reach our gates, we will have already failed them."
The hall erupted—voices clashing, arguments overlapping, fear bleeding into anger.
Through it all, Yakubo said nothing.
Gorika turned to him at last, desperation slipping into her eyes.
"Yakubo," she asked softly, "what is your counsel?"
He lifted his gaze.
"A war has no victors," he said. "Only survivors who must live with what they've done. If this conflict is to be stopped, it will not be by armies."
The chamber quieted.
"There is one who stands between realms," Yakubo continued. "One who commands fear from Arkan and respect from Seven Gates. If he is willing… Kalies could end this before it begins."
The name fell like thunder.
Whispers ignited instantly. Some faces filled with hope. Others with dread.
Dian's expression did not change.
But inside, something twisted violently.
Gorika closed her eyes, torn.
The council descended once more into chaos—pleas for war, calls for restraint, accusations, fear.
Above it all, Dian sat perfectly still.
They speak his name again, he thought.
Even now.
His lips curved, just slightly.