that I was once an acolyte with the Order of Aielan myself. I have lived within the Sanctuary, trained beneath the Chosen’s hand, studied the Scripts myself, and even immersed myself in Aielan’s Light before I was called back to my House to become its lord after my father’s and brother’s deaths. I pledged myself to Aielan, to upholding the principles set out in the Scripts and established by all of those Chosen for the Order from times past. In my role as Lord of Rhyssal House, I have striven to maintain those principles and incorporate them into the policies of the House, even though by taking up that leadership I was forced to forsake the vows I took as an acolyte.
“At first, I found integrating the two-the principles of Aielan and the responsibilities of a lord-to be difficult. But I persevered, and over the years have surmounted the challenge. The two can coexist. I believe the Accord that was established between the three races was the culmination of that coexistence, at least for me.
“But recently, some of the actions of the Order of Aielan, and in particular, the Chosen, Lotaern, have caused me concern. I have found it more and more difficult to accept these changes made within the Order. I know that many of you are now thinking that my own reservations are born out of a personal conflict with Lotaern, a grudge or feud with him that I have harbored since I left the Order, perhaps rooted in my own dissatisfaction at being forced to leave. I tell you now, this is not so. When I left the Order, it was with the greatest respect for Lotaern and for the Order itself. It is only recent events that have troubled me. I know they have troubled some of the rest of you as well.”
He paused, looking around the room, taking in the expressions of every one of the lords where they sat behind the tables lined with cloth of their House colors. Most of their faces were carefully blank, their postures reserved. Lord Terraec’s gaze was locked on Lotaern, who sat behind his own table draped in folds of white, his hands hidden. Aeren turned to the Chosen as well as he continued.
“I have spoken to all of the lords regarding the members of the Order of the Flame, what is in essence the Order’s Phalanx, that have been actively invading our individual House lands under the auspices of being acolytes. They have been performing the rituals of the Order in the temples, acting as acolytes, and in most cases the acolytes who have been sent to care for the local populations at each temple have deferred to them. As a Lord of one of the Houses of the Evant, I would not condone the use of one of my fellow lords’ Phalanxes in my own lands without that lord first seeking permission from me and my fellow caitans. I would humbly request that the Chosen order the current members of the Order of the Flame who inhabit my lands back to the Sanctuary here in Caercaern, until such time as the Chosen seeks and gains permission to have the Flame enter my lands. I strongly suggest that the rest of the Lords of the Evant do the same.
“I would ask that the Evant reprimand the Chosen for his actions, for this blatant invasion of House lands. He has overstepped the bounds of the Order.”
A silence thrumming with anger followed his words. Aeren felt that anger trembling in his arms, the hands behind his back clasped so hard he knew the knuckles were white. The strength of the emotion surprised him. But what he had said in his speech was true: he had left the Order with the greatest respect for Lotaern and what the Chosen had taught him while he was an acolyte. The emergence of the Order of the Flame and the actions Lotaern had taken since then had been difficult to accept. Lotaern was not the mentor he remembered so fondly from his studies anymore. He had changed.
But the anger in the room did not come solely from him. He could feel it radiating from Lotaern as well. Somehow, over the course of years, the two had grown apart, grown distant.
A part of him regretted that distance and hated the enmity between them now. But he could not let Lotaern’s actions stand unchallenged.
Behind him, he heard the Tamaell stand and step forward, his tread unmistakable, but he did not turn to face him.
“As Tamaell of the Alvritshai,” Thaedoren said, his voice filling the chamber, smooth and dark with import, “I find that some of Lord Aeren’s concerns have merit. There are issues regarding the Order of the Flame that we have not yet addressed, one of which is how the Flame is to be treated. Should the Order be considered a House and the Flame its Phalanx? Lord Aeren has stated that is how he feels, and as such the Flame should not be allowed to arbitrarily enter a fellow lord’s House lands. The alternative is to agree that the Flame is not a military force at all, but merely a group of specialized acolytes, in which case the Order would not be considered equivalent to a House in its own right.
“I pose the question to Lotaern, the Chosen of the Order of Aielan, first. Does the Order wish to be considered the equivalent to a House, with the Order of the Flame as its Phalanx, subject to all of the expectations and restrictions of a member of the Evant?”
Aeren felt his heart lurch as the words sank in. This was not what he had intended when he brought his concern to the Evant. He had simply wanted the lords to force Lotaern to remove the members of the Flame from House lands. He had not wanted to bring the Order’s place among the Evant into question. What Thaedoren had brought to the floor would solidify the powers that Lotaern wielded within the Evant. It would answer the question that had hounded them all since the Order of the Flame had been revealed. If the lords agreed, Lotaern would become the equivalent of a lord. Instead of merely having a say in the Evant, his opinion easily dismissed since he had no true power, he would gain political weight.
Aeren turned to regard the Tamaell in horror, but Thaedoren was not looking at him. His focus was on Lotaern. Aeren spun back to the Chosen of the Order, his heart now beating too fast in his chest. For he knew how Lotaern would answer.
Standing slowly, the Chosen of the Order addressed the room as a whole, not once looking toward Aeren. He kept his face impassive, although Aeren noted a hint of smugness in the thrust of his chin.
He doubted any of the other lords knew him well enough to see it.
“As you know, I have long sought to have a say within the Evant. It is my belief that the voice of Aielan should be considered when matters that affect all of the Alvritshai are being decided. Because of this, I would claim that the Order has always been the spiritual House of the Alvritshai. This would simply be recognition of that fact by the Lords of the Evant.”
Thaedoren had frowned, but after a moment he turned to the rest of the Lords of the Evant. “Then I demand an accounting. All those in favor of recognizing the Order of Aielan as a House of the Evant, and the Order of the Flame as its Phalanx, with Lotaern, the Chosen of the Order, as its current lord, please stand.”
Aeren spun as first Orraen, then Daesor, Saetor, Houdyll, and finally Peloroun stood. Only Terroec remained seated. Fury hardened him, forced his shoulders back as Thaedoren turned to face him, even though despair left him empty inside.
He had not come here to validate Lotaern’s and the Order’s position in the Evant. But he could see no way to stop it.
“What say you, Lord Aeren?”
Aeren gritted his teeth and blew a short breath out through his nose, eyes lowered, then answered, looking up toward Thaedoren. “I am
Thaedoren nodded. “So I expected. However, it is long past time for this to be addressed. The proposal is passed. The Order of Aielan has been granted the same responsibilities, duties, and expectations of a House of the Evant. Do you accept these responsibilities, duties, and expectations, Chosen?”
Lotaern nodded humbly. “I do.”
“Then so shall it be recorded.”
A loud murmur spread through the entire Hall as Lotaern took his seat, a brief, triumphant smile touching his face. Before it could settle there permanently, Thaedoren halted it with a level glare.
“As the equivalent of a Lord of the Evant, with the Flame as your Phalanx, I am forced to agree with Lord Aeren regarding his grievance of members of the Flame entering his House lands without first seeking permission. As Tamaell, commander of all of the House Phalanx, I command you to order their return to the Sanctuary immediately. Not only from Rhyssal House lands, but from all of the lands of the Houses.”
At Lotaern’s grudging nod, Thaedoren turned his gaze on Aeren again. Aeren could see the message there clearly: his concern regarding the Flame had been addressed, but it had come at a cost. One that Aeren wasn’t certain he would have been willing to pay had he known of it beforehand.
“Was there some other grievance that you wished to address regarding the Order of Aielan?” the Tamaell asked.
Aeren hesitated. Thaedoren was giving him the opportunity to bring up the theft of the knife from Shaeveran, giving him a chance to retaliate. He had told all of the lords of Lotaern’s actions during their private meetings, knew
