[Leiyalt Alniyh POV]


    The High Lord of the Alniyh House strode through the halls of the Synod’s Consortium, the masses falling back from his presence. Perhaps the sizzling Skyr on his shoulder added to his presence, but his Bound served to prove his power and influence. After all, no other was allowed their Bound within the hallows halls. None but him and the Gran Verat himself.


    His ceremonial robes fluttered behind him, their supernaturally bright dyes glittering in the light from the windows carved high above in the solid stone walls. The luxurious shoes he wore cushioned his feet with each clacking step on the marble flooring, and Leiyalt held back the wide grin that threatened to crack his regal appearance. After all, right now, the helpless and weak had been blessed to see his mighty figure, it simply wouldn’t do to deprive them of the perfect vision of his majesty. Thus, though every step he took was taken with the haste it deserved, the High Lord remained the perfect representation of the face of one of the Seven Families.


    With his rushed pace and nobody willing to step in his way, it was but a few minutes before Leiyalt Alniyh stood before the doors into the Five’s chambers. That none of his family dwelled behind these doors was an affront, but Leiyalt supposed that the weak masses deserved to believe that they could ascend to the position of the High Veran. It was far from the truth, of course, the occasional inconsequential child that did was swiftly “elevated” to the position of their betters and made to stand as a silent supporter of the true rulers of the country.


    It was an affront to his position that he had to wait at all to enter, but the High Lord supposed he could show this small measure of grace to those who so desperately needed his expertise now. After all, they’d begged for him to come, so he could wait patiently enough while they played their games with him.


    “Please, come in.”


    He recognized that voice before he opened the door. With a wide grin on his face, Leiyalt Windspoke the door open and strode in. That wench Djallma sat behind an austere desk, her facade of a smile much faker than his own. The reception area, if it could be called as much, wasn’t anything noteworthy, considering the sway it held over the entirety of the implacable beast that was the Veratocracy. There was but the single desk where Djallma sat, no windows, and four doors filled the room. A set of shelves decorated the back wall, both filled with sheaves of paper and tightly bound scrolls. How much information was stored within, he couldn’t help but wonder. As his mind flitted through the various points of interest in the room, the High Lord wondered at the actual influence of the inhabitants of these rooms. After all, the Five could merely be called the tongue of the country, while the brain remained the Gran Verat and his claws that of the Families.


    “Thank you for coming, High Lord. It was Salmar who requested your presence, and he should be available now.”


    “Such a good secretary, Miss Nahr. Do you need to notify him of my presence?”


    The unmistakable pressure of a windword answered before Djallma could. “My office, please.”


    Leiyalt had to fight not to react to the perfunctory response, but he kept his body language clear and calm as he walked into the most senior of the Five’s office. As the “office” of the most junior of the Five, the office was wholly undecorated, though casual displays of Salmar’s Windspeaking prowess were on full display everywhere he looked. Small “windows” that required constant concentration filled one of the walls, each one displaying a different part of Viertaal and its surrounding lands. On the other wall was a shimmering matrix of whirling winds occasionally spat out a firmly wrapped paper which was automatically sorted into stacks to be reviewed later.


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    “High Lord Alniyh. I have a single question regarding your accompaniment of the squad of soldiers from the Thnufir garrison.” The old man refused to stand on ceremony, and though he’d expected it, it still grated on Leiyalt.


    “Then ask. There are yet things that I have to do today.”


    “Very well. Why did you not bring any of your most notable Bound when you went to exterminate the escaping keelish?”


    He sighed. “I left with the sole assignment of dealing with the Sunkindred’s assault on the Thnufir lines. I wasn’t prepared for an extended chase, though I assisted the soldiers with getting all the way to the eastern reaches more quickly than they could have otherwise.”


    “That did not answer my question. You were commanded by the Gran Verat to assist High Colonel di’Thnufir with driving the Sunkindred from the reaches of the Thnufir River. Why did you not bring your greatest strength to bear in following his decree?”


    “There was no need to! He requested that I move quickly, so I left Than in his home and traveled over land with the assigned escorts with Doluk, Alba, and Skyr.”


    “And did you find success in your repelling of the Sunkindred?”


    “No, I was forced to leave before–”


    “And did you find success in hunting the keelish to the last?”


    “That was not my responsibility!” The High Lord bellowed in response. “I assisted them in their movement, and Alba’s life was sacrificed in the process. I lost generations of experimentation, purification, and potential in one moment, because those soldiers lacked the capability to kill mere keelish!”


    “Understood.” Salmar’s face remained impassive, and Leiyalt snarled.


    “Did you merely call me here to remind yourself of what you already know?”


    “No. the Gran Verat would like to know how your latest experiments are going.” Though Salmar stated it as easily as anything, Leiyalt stiffened. The Gran Verat was asking this?


    “She was a failure. Not malleable enough. Or perhaps too malleable, it’s too hard to tell, and since she was a failure, I don’t care too much to clarify. Beyond that, now that she’s been given permission to live at the Thnufir Garrison, it’s been too long since last I used any of my Callings on her and what little progress I was able to make will be wholly lost before long, and I suspect her subconscious mind will greater resist any further attempts. Maybe another could follow in my tracks and see if they can’t overwrite that trite compassion she seems so hellbent on maintaining, but I don’t care any longer.”


    “Oh, you misunderstand.” Salmar answered, though Leiyalt saw the barest flicker of disgust that colored his tone and face when he realized that the High Lord was experimenting on one of their citizens. Why one of the High Veran would allow emotions to color the necessity of scientific inquiry wholly escaped him, but perfection evaded most.


    “The Gran Verat wishes to know how your other, the one recovered from the Samutelia, is progressing.”


    “But of course! He is a wild success. I suspect that, if we allow him to encounter others of his kind, he’ll quickly be able to dominate them.”


    “I shall pass it on, then.”


    “Yes, my little Keel is a good child. I look forward to seeing him continue on his path.”


    End of Book 3