Snow: The Tale of A Cold Heart (Part VIII)

Eh, a really, really shoddy chapter. It's terribly boring but kind of necessary and I really just wanted to get something out :/


There were so many eyes.

All of them were staring at him and all of them were expecting to see answers. Eleven out of the twelve Architects sat around the oblong meeting table. Balthazar sat at it's head, staring back at each of them, daring them to challenge his word.

“Sire, the snow season is now upon us. The farmers are struggling to feed Liandor as it is, if we go to war now the burden will increase immeasurably.” The speaker was Haldon, Architect of the Land, the Keeper of the Crops. Stress and worry was etched all over his worn face, and rightly so. It mustn't be easy trying to feed an entire nation.

“We have the stores, isn't this what they are for? To feed us in times of need?” Balthazar replied. “Also, we can always buy food from Nordyire, they are always willing to trade for gems.”

“Sire!” cried Druin, the Architect of Stone. “You can't expect the mines to produce more than it already does! Especially once the war starts, many of the workers will go to join the army.”

Balthazar gave an irritable sigh. “Then we will bring in more workers from Rissen, they always complain that they need more jobs.”

“And what will we give them?” asked Druin.

“We will give them food,” he replied.

“Sire, we have no food to spare!” exclaimed the Architect of the Land.

“Sire, we are still stinging from the war with Rissen, wood for carving is low on supply.” jutted in the Architect of Wood.

“Sire! All this war is bad for business!” lamented the Architect of the Coin. “The merchants are still crying for their losses from the war with Rissen. Our treasury is low, I don't know if we have enough to fund another-”

“ENOUGH!”

Silence fell faster than a twenty tonne boulder. Balthazar was standing now, and staring down at his squabbling council. He could feel a vein throbbing violently on his neck and a heat within his chest. No one moved. No one said a word. All of them were staring at him.

“Listen now and listen well. When I say that we are going to war, you do not question me. You do not argue with me. You simply do as I say. Is that too difficult to comprehend?” He looked around the table and into each and everyone's eyes. There were many mindless nods and most had an expression of utter fear.

“Any word on the tower clocks?”

The Architects glanced at each other, before Druin spoke up, “None of them work. All the time keepers jumped from their clocks, so they're all still frozen at the Averence's time of death.”

“There's chaos everywhere.” The Architect of Justice shook his head in frustration. “People aren't showing up to work on time, store hours are being affected, meetings and appointments are difficult to make and keep. The people have come to rely on these tower clocks and now that they don't work they don't know what to do.”

Balthazar gritted his teeth, “How about apprentices? Some of them must have been close to graduating.”

The Architect of War shook his head. “Some of the apprentices close to graduating have jumped fro the clocks too, and even the ones who didn't, claim that the last secret of the tower clocks died with the keepers.”

Balthazar sighed, “So none of them are operating.” He thumped his desk with his palm. “If we don't get them working soon the people may become suspicious, they may even stop believing that Tallon's death was because of illness. I need the heir.”

“What if we don't find her, Sire?” asked the Architect of Wood.

“Then we say that the illness has claimed her and her brother's life as well. Meanwhile, we need another way to communicate time to the people.”

“We've thought about that sire. We've decided that the best way is is to have a bell toll every hour. The bell ringer in every town shall be given a sundial from which to determine the time.” Druin had just finished speaking when the council doors were thrown open. Everyone turned to face the cause of disruption, and a be-straggled looking man stumbled into the hall and fell to his knees.

Balthazar frowned, what was Edrian doing here?

“Sire, please!” he cried. “My family have done nothing! Please, let them go!”

Oh, that's why.

“Get out Edrian.”

“Please sire! My wife! My children! They have done nothing!” His voice cracked and and he started to sob.

Balthazar sighed irritably, this day was getting worse and worse.

“You are disrupting a council in progress. Leave.” he said quietly. The guards were already grabbing him by the arms and were dragging him out of the building.

“Please, Sire! Please! My family! Plea-”

His wailing and crying could still be heard well after he had been removed, and now many of the Architects were looking uncomfortable.

“Druin, your plan seems sound. Begin putting it in place immediately.” He turned to leave. “Let's end this for the day. It'll give us some time to make... preparations for the impending war.”