Chapter 280 - The Council

"Grandmaster Bulsteighn!"

Bursting through the wooden, decorated door of the Argonaut leader's office, a thin man dressed in sable garments wore a desperate, worried expression. 

"What is it, Lloyd? To enter without so much as knocking…"

"Apologies, Grandmaster! But…it's urgent! Avdima's life signal has been confirmed to be wiped out!"

A surprised look came over the scarred, chiseled face of the burly man as he heard this, sitting himself up properly.

"Avdima? Dead? Are you sure?"

"Gaol just confirmed it…"

The shaky words from the Executioner were seldom welcome to the leader's ears as the gruff man shot up from his seat, stomping past the man who looked like nothing more than a child in comparison. 

"Bulsteighn, Sir?" 

"...So, it really came to this. Why do I have a feeling those wrinkly, old bastards foresaw this? Peh…"

Speaking to himself, the large mountain of a man stomped through the marble hallways of the Voyager Keep as the Executioner hesitantly followed behind. In the wake of the crimson-bearded leader of the Argonauts, the thunderous clack of his pristine boots against the immaculate floor below was all that filled the extensive building. 

"Lloyd."

"Y-yes, Sir Bulsteighn, Sir?"

The young man with curly, light-brown locks gulped as he looked up at the unmoving, fearsome gaze of the burly Argonaut. 

"Consider it your lucky day; you're coming with me to the Council."

"T-t-the council…?! The Council of The Wise?...That council?!"

Following behind the long, fluffy, sable cape that dragged behind Bulsteighn's bulwark back, Lloyd stammered out his words before catching back up to the marching, disgruntled leader. 

"You said Gaol confirmed the death of Avdima, right? Where did you get that report? From Gaol himself?" 

"...Of course not."

Answering in that manner, a sharp look was bestowed from Bulsteighn to the timid Executioner as the man gulped those words, quickly replacing them as he followed at the side of the man. 

"I-I mean, nobody at my rank is allowed to see Gaol. He delivered the news from a raven, apparently, he's at the Celestius Tower right now…"

"As I thought; so he's already at the Council--that saves us some time. What of the other three? Anything on them?"

Bulsteighn fiddled with his low-hanging beard as the two traversed the lengthy, immaculate hall belonging to the Argonauts--an expansive place filled with the gloominess befit of the hounds of the King. Retrieving the letter from the pocket of his stygian coat, Lloyd unraveled the parchment before reciting the gathered information to his superior, hesitantly. 

"...Fleisch was thoroughly defeated--"

"Defeated?"

"...Killed by Outlander Donatien. It isn't known exactly what happened to Antoinette, but apparently she was defeated as well as her mana signature disappeared completely.It--I didn't see this before...it seems Strife has...joined the Outlanders?"

At that last piece of news, the parchment was swiftly taken from the Executioner's hands as Bulsteighn brought the ink close to his fearsome, tired eyes with a disheveled grunt. Reading it himself, the man crumbled up the paper before tossing it with a roar as it landed upon the marble in the form of cinder. 

"Utter failures, the lot of them! I knew they were all expendables, but this?! This is simply unacceptable--not only did they fall, one dared betray us?! This information must never meet the public's ears; it'd be mayhem! Losing Avdima was one thing--this...GAH! To hell with it!"

Storming forward with stomps that rang through the lobby of Voyager Keep like the howls of raging thunder, Bulsteighn ignored the lever at the side of the pristine gates before pushing the enormous, steel-forged gates open without a second thought. 

—The Courtyard of Heroes: not only do the Argonaut's reside within this area, but so does the council—as well as the Journey Foundation. It's a prestigious plaza where only the strong can walk, Lloyd thought. 

Upon arriving at the illustrious tower only a stroll away from the base of the Argonauts, Lloyd found himself enamored by the architecture of the building--being brought so close to it for the first time. Carved into the quartz that made up the coveted tower, the sigil of the most powerful houses resided, alongside the silhouettes of the many prestigious heroes of Mastorn. 

"Come, boy--my patience is at an all-time low!"

Shouting with his maw only matched by a dragon's own ferocity, Bulsteighn's gravelly voice as deep as a chasm dragged the starry-eyed Executioner up the blemish-free steps. 

Lloyd was hesitant to follow the giant of a man inside once Bulsteighn slapped the front door open without any grace of respect for the famous tower. It was only once realizing the repercussions of further angering the crimson-bearded man did he step into the ancient hall. 

"Ah, Sir Bulsteighn, it is a pleasure to see you." 

Bowing his head before the Argonaut leader, a man with a head of well-kempt, glistening hair of a blonde complexion welcomed his arrival. 

"Cut the formality, Florian--a meeting is underway, right?"

As Bulsteighn spoke with little elegance, the Executioner following him found the interior of the fabled tower to be magnificent; decorating the exuberant, quartz walls were a seemingly endless amount of books. Only by way of traversing lengthy ladders could one reach the highest of these countless records. 

"Oh, how rare--Sir Bulsteighn wants to take place in a meeting? Honestly, one might forget you're a council member. Oh? Who's this with you?"

Florian spoke with a certain suave that met Lloyd's ears like flower petals on a spring evening, but seemed to grind against Bulsteighn's own like grinding steel. 

"Urr, I'm--"

"He wipes my ass for me--who the hell cares! Point me towards the meeting, dammit!"

"Did you forget during your absence? Very well, it's on the second floor." 

Answering at the clear sign of Bulsteighn's wavering patience, Florian only smiled slyly--seemingly satisfied by the reaction he garnered as he gave the Executioner a wink of his radiant, olive eye as the two from the Argonaut branch passed by. 

Looking back, Lloyd found himself perplexed as to why the suave man dressed in a light-blue suit stood alone at the lobby of the tower. 

...Florian?--Wait, isn't that the young head of the Castell family?! One of the richest in all of Mastorn?...If I talked to him like that, I'd probably find myself in the bottom of a grimy dungeon, Lloyd thought. 

Just standing in such a place was almost suffocating for the high-ranking Executioner. Through the aura subtly emanating from the floors and walls, the light seeping through the stained glass—it felt like a divine construct; a tower built for only the most pivotal of Mastorn's own. 

Ascending the flight of stairs just behind the mountainous step of the Argonaut commander, Lloyd looked up to spectate the enormous fitting of stained glass that awaited above—the silhouette of a hero familiar to any Mastornian imprinted on the lavish glass.

"Elias", the very image of a man holding a sword to the stars originates from him; the principal hero of Mastorn, Lloyd thought. 

"Lloyd."

"…Yes, Commander Sir?"

It was never a feeling the Executioner could grow accustomed to; having his name be called by the legendary Argonaut. 

"Once we reach this next floor…it's a different world. Just stay close, and stay silent."

"Got it, Commander Sir…"

Taking the warning, Lloyd swallowed his doubts as he reached the summit of the immaculate flight of stairs—turning into a chamber that immediately presented an unmatched aura. 

Placed in a grandiose room, a circular table formed of an ivory marble stretched itself as many chairs sat around it. 

"Ah, Sir Bulsteighn! We were expecting you!"

Greeting the arrival of the disgruntled, veteran Argonaut, a cheerful man of a similar age laughed heartily. 

Stroking his golden-brown, braided beard between his gauntlet-clad fingers, the man was clearly a knight by his decorated, pearly-white armor designed with azure accents. 

"Sir Lionsdale…"

Bulsteighn muttered as his eyes met with the bearded knight who greeted him. 

There were at least a dozen seated around the illustrious, prestigious table—though most seemed impatient for the meeting to begin. 

Hearing the true name of the boisterous knight who dwarfed the table he saw at, Lloyd's expression fell aghast. 

Sir Lionsdale…?! The Captain of the most prestigious squad of knights: "The Skyriders"?! Not just that…he himself is a war hero! "The Gallant Destroyer"! Just what kind of room have I stepped into?! Lloyd thought. 

Letting out a yawn from a seat along the farthest side of the table, opposite of the new entrants, a young man scratched the stubble on his chin. 

"Alexander—mind your manners at the Celestius table."

Sitting two seats to the left of the uncaring, scruffy man was a fatally beautiful woman with an impatient look on her fair face.

"Get off my ass, lady."

Responding with zero respect to be had, the man folded his arms across the chest of his crimson coat; an outfit is clearly woven for battle as chainmail peeked from directly underneath the fine fabric. 

Alexander…that sounds familiar. Oh! How could I forget?! One of the legendary "Celestial-ranked" adventurers! You could go a whole lifetime without meeting one…they're usually journeying around the world in pursuit of the greatest mysteries to be had! Lloyd gawked.

"Excuse you?! I'll have your tongue for that!"

Standing from her seat, the snowy-haired woman with locks as straight as curtains presented a bountiful aura before quickly being suppressed by the gaze of the elderly man seated near her.

"Calm yourself, Alyria. You too, Alexander—this is a coveted place; respect it or find yourself stripped of its privileges."

Although he didn't recognize the woman right away, Lloyd discerned her branch by the silky, pearlescent gown-like robes she wore that presented a flower insignia. 

She's an archmage—no, not just that. She's a star-tier archmage at that; the best of the best. Probably from a powerful family too, he deduced. 

"…Come now, there are things to discuss and little time to be had."

The frail-seeming elderly man spoke in a hoarse voice, stretching his bony hand out to gesture for the Argonaut leader to seat himself.. Despite his weak appearance, dressed in snow-white, baggy robes, his call was respected by even Bulsteighn.