He sat alone at the center watching the scene with apparent disinterest. Too much talking, much shouting, less sense to him.

He ignored the arguing men sitting upon the steps of the half amphitheatre around him.

He stifled a yawn with a clasp of his hand. He flexed his fair fingers, looking at them lovingly.

He was what his people would call light skinned, not as near milky as the Andorians that lived in the distant north, among the cities of plains, rather light brown and approaching a yellow hue.

He ran his hand across his head.
His hair line had receded, leaving the centre a bald. I'm not as young as I once was. He sighed.

He raised his eyes above the bickering men, to the high domed ceiling on which the Alamarian Pantheon spread out in painted colours of a mural.

Aoha, lord of the gods, tamer of lightning, he who first came and called, dwarfed other deities, as his form rose and spread as if to engulf the ceiling.

On his head, lightning formed a dazzling crown. Behind his head the sun formed a halo. His right hand bore his sword of creation which he had forged from the sun.
His jaw was hidden behind a great white beard. Looks godly enough.

He then turned to Idem, god of the seas. A whirlpool coming up to his waist, krakens and sea serpents were shown circling within the whirlpool. He bore miniature cyclones on his palms.

And there was Ania, across Aoha as always. Ania, the goddess of the earth was lay down with her back raised against a mountain side that was dwarfed by her form which was beautiful and awe inspiring. All around her plants grew and birds flew. He smirked a bit. Lovely.

He ran his eyes languidly over her wreath of flowers, her eyes deep and brown like the soil, her dress, a rich green like the gasses. She seemed to hold a palm branch languidly.

Lastly, he saw Ivaka, the fierce god of war and fire. He was captured in full armour, with his sword raised, his eyes blazed as his foot crushed the head of a subdued dragon, while his left hand held fire. Very fierce looking.

The four high gods spread from the edges of the dome towards the centre. Aoha from the east, Idem from the west, Ania from the south, Ivaka from the north, forming a circle, from which lesser deities proceeded.

The lower gods, the demigods filled the first ring that followed.

He spied Itan the god of luck as fat as always, flipping a coin and wearing a wreath of gold.

Borsos the hero demi god that had defeated the Iro monster, was riding a black steed, brandishing a sword just above Aoha. There he had been for ages. Why don't you ride off the ceiling? You have a horse! You must be bored of just staying there.

The ring that followed next was that of spirits. Beings not of the gods nor mortals: demons, all manner of beasts, spirits and ghosts of the ancestors long gone. The monsters of our stories. Not so scary on a wall.

And in the last ring, the very inner one surrounded by the vast realm of the unseen immortals were men shown as humble figures going about their businesses.

He watched the sacred pictures with growing disinterest, yawning in tiredness. Might have been amazing if I haven't seen it a million times already.

Then, he starred at it very deeply again, he had made a discovery.

Why were the humble humans in the eye of the painting, while the greater beings deviated from the centre of attention?

Shouldn't it be the other way around? The almighty immortal high gods, the pillars of existence in the centre and from them all others descend? And lastly the humans?

Was there a subtle message to it? A rather blasphemous one, he thought.

Man is the centre of the universe and the gods exist for him?

No, no! The priests had said otherwise. He racked his brain remembering the creed of the gods every Alamarian child learnt by heart. Which verses? The last ones, just after the creation of the world.

Then, Ania called man from the earth,
But only a statue of earth was he,
Idem to his veins gave fluid.
Yet, still he was.
Ivaka to his blood gave warmth,
Yet, he stirred not.
Aoha from on high gave breath
And man stirred to walk the earth.
Aoha gave him the wind to guide
His ship to harbour.
The stars and moon to guide.
Ania to man gave crops to plant,
Land to live, and game to catch
Idem gave him the seas and rivers,
To sail and fish, to drink and give thanks.
And to man,
Ivaka gave fire to to hearth warm,
His meal to cook, his sword to forge.

The gods from all pull man at the center...."

He scratched his bald head. Oh! That was it! Man was at the center like a puppet on the stage and beyond the scenes the gods controlled him. Very subtle, very subtle.
The "seen" are contained at centre, controlled by the "unseen", vast and spreading. But I prefer the other interpretation.

The swoosh sound of the attendant refilling the water clock to his right informed him that another hour had passed and still arguments were boiling. He needed to end this quickly.

"Do speak for yourself or are all Ozians cowards?" He heard Asila Orian say.

He thought it fitting that his rage matched his blood red robe perfectly. Blood rage.

Asila is quite angry today. He sniggered. As usual it's an Ozian.

Asila's prey was a man who looked his age, probably forty as well. He was sitted across Asila.

His white robe lined with silver bulged in the centre thanks to his paunch.

He scowled deeply at Asila's insult.

He's Leso Ozian. I remember! ninth son of the family from the fifth wife. A regular idiot.

He cursed in Asila's direction. "Family of wild animals!"

Ah! Assembly, how we love each other!

That was met with an uproar, the Orians at the left extreme, scampered to their feet, yelling and swearing at the Leso who was supported by his family.

I have to do something about Ozians and Orians. Reds and Whites are always causing a ruckus here. It's entertaining but one day somebody might just get killed. Not that I care but I don't want it done on my watch.

Unsavory words, curses! He heard something about being a whore's product and even more that rose above the chaos to audibility.

"Sons of dogs and bitches!"

It was rewarded with another one in retaliation: "Bloody goats in white!"

Very refined speech from nobles.

Aristocrats struggled for their views to be heard  among the chaos. It was mostly they that were doing the yelling.

Behind them the commoners sat down and looked on.

Quite wisely though. Let the nobles fight amongst themselves, this wasn't their problem.

He had had enough. It was fun though, but now he must act. It was his job.

He drummed on his table "Assembly!" He said quite audibly. Nobody seemed to notice, none turned his direction.

He cried out again "Assembly!" This time his voice was rising and building.

Fools! I'm getting angry just by shouting.

The noise continued. He gnashed his teeth and pounded furiously on the stone table, aware of the redness that was gathering in his palm because of it.

"Assembly!" His loud voice boomed through the building, forcing faces to turn towards him.

Arguers stopped midway in their diatribes and all turned to behold him the angry man at the center, Ikan Vona the high councillor for the nobles of the Alamarian Assembly.

Yes, I'm still in command here. His breath was a bit heavy.

Good! They have made me angry.

With quick adjustment of robes, and sober faces, they sat down like penitent children to listen. Their argument would have to be forgotten or wait for later. Nobody dared irritate an angry him.

He rose and addressed them.

As he stood, his purple tunic embroidered with gold thread and glitter, seemed to catch the rays of the sun entering the hall through the high windows.

His voice was firm, his eyes vexed, his gestures not very far from wild. He spoke with a vehemence.

"If I hadn't know any better I would say you were a pack of dogs fight over a morsel and not the revered Assembly Of Alamaria!

"The Thigians have crossed the Baldic sea. They say their fleets number in hundreds. Vantu their great general leads them.

"As we seat here and argue, this horde thirsty for Alamarian blood has sailed pass the Tip Of Isily. Their goal is Onia our city of commerce."

He paused, taking a breath to let his words sink in. He gazed around as if seeking for one who dared to defy him. There was none.

Let them know I'm angry. I'm sick of their childish squabbles.

"Once they take it, what stops them from matching on all the way to Alamaria?

You blind fools.

"I shake in rage when I hear men who claim to be sons of this great city speak of peace talks with the Thigians, saying "Our ancestors never fought a war, unless as a last resort!"

Damn Orians. It seemed to him that some of them shifted in their seats uncomfortably at that. A troubled white sea.

This time his eyes bulged, and he shook his fist in emphasis. I'm not so angry at all, but they don't know that.

"What peace shall be held over the ruins of our beloved city?!"

His voice mellowed, like a mother explaining to her naive children.

"The Thigians want our hold on the coast. They despise the wealth it brings us. They despise our progress!"

His voice rose again, like a waterfall
"They wouldn't rest until we are wearing their yokes, until we are paying taxes to them, until our City is turned into another cursed province of the Thigian empire!"

His voice fell again.

"It is not an argument to go to war, we simply must go to war. Nothing ever come from negotiating with them. You know our conflicts with them only too well. Remember the treaty of Zia? How long did it take for them to break it by encroaching on Hai?"

He paused again, he was almost out of breath. His tone was reconciliatory now.

"Our fathers built this City on blood and swords, we shall defend Her by blood and swords!
What shall we tell our Fathers when we return to them, should this City fall?"
This always touches their sense of honour and duty.

He left them contemplating the question momentary, without expecting an answer he continued,

"Very well, we shall put it to a vote then. Those who say onward with war immediately against those who propose peaceful negotiations first and war only as a last resort.
The opinion of all must be considered."

Let me help you make up your minds.

The voting began, two large clay jars of the same size were placed at the centre, just some feet from his seat.

The white one for peace, the black for war.

The voting began, the House of Vona, his house came first, dressed in smooth purple tunics with full, wide sleeves with silver embroidery running along the edges.
At their chests were a silver embroideries of an eagle in flight.
My family as elegant as ever.

They moved to the black jar in an orderly line, eldest to youngest. Ikan nodded in approval, he expected nothing less.

The first man his fat brother Kiro. He showed the whole assembly the single pebble in his hand before casting it into the jar. In such manner, others did so. He nodded softly to his relatives and graced Vais his youngest son with a quick smile.

He gloried in the power of his house. We are the oldest and most powerful in the city. Everybody knows that eagles soar.

Next came the House Of Orian like a wave of blood in their robes. He thought their sigil a black bull down into their robes very accurate.

Bloody stubborn bulls, how apt

One by one, in haughty and dignified steps they cast their pebbles into the black jar.
Kino their wiry patriarch was the first to vote. He looked as old as the moon.

He doesn't have much life left In him. Keso would probably succeed him. He said spotting his brawny son in line.

More pebbles thudding there than in the other. One jar nearly full, the other hardly full.

Inwardly, Ikan smiled. The blood bulls
were thirsty for war.

But not all were, he thought as he saw the House Of Ozian step forward. Their white robes billowing as they walked to the white clayed jar to cast their pebbles.

Cowards! How is it that you have lions for your sigil? Take a mouse instead, it's more apt.

The gods were kind to give the World just one Orian and Ozian family. Alam(Alamaria) hardily contained them.

Ikan knew that a willingness to treat would be seen as weakness. Thigia would never come this far to accept a peace treaty, in fact that would spur them to more action, a confirmation of a suspected weakness.

Alamaria wasn't weak. Though the lion probes at the still porcupine with its claws, it runs away with the stings of the porcupine.

Thigia had raised claws against Alamaria, he would be damned if he didn't make them withdraw it painfully, full of quills.

The last two Houses: The Hond with their brown tunics and the Filk with their green tunics. For the Hond the symbol was a clenched fist, the Filk had theirs was a lily.

The runts of the nobility, he thought. The higher nobles joked about them saying that they were one feet in nobility and knee deep in peasantry.

They usually voted according to the side that appeared to be winning. They clung to the three other powerful houses, supporting anyone they thought convenient and hoping to rise to significance through them.

So they were boot lickers to whoever appeared to have the shiniest boot.

Predictably, they sycophantically moved to the leaf roped jar.
Some smiled dutifully at Ikan as if to say "See how loyal we are?"

Pests! He sighed inwardly.

Afterwards, the commoners started to vote. They all wore grey tunics without silver lines. A copper brooch shaped after choice tools declared their occupation.

A farmer, a blacksmith. I don't care they're all the same. Peasants!

Hundreds of years ago, the commoners had no place in the Assembly. That however had changed. At some point some fools got into their heads to riot against it. The City was up in riots for days.

The result was: the commoners were allowed into the Assembly. Hundreds of years had past and they still looked out of place to him.

You can take the man out of the village but you can't take the village out of the man, Ikan mused.

If he had his way they wouldn't be here.

You don't go about gifting a coat to a toad! Let commoners till the soil, sell their goods and whatever but let the aristocracy govern. Let them do what they were born to do. The eagles were born to soar as the snails were to crawl. This was unnatural! The gods didn't make it so.

Well, he kept his views to himself. Alamaria was supposed to be a free society where everybody mattered. Some more than most apparently.

Thankfully the peasants weren't brought into the Assembly in families. No! They vermin would over run them. They were brought in through occupational guilds.

I share authority with carpenters and peddlers!

Right now the guild of merchants made their way to the jar of war. War was opportunity, war was money. Soldiers would need supplies and shipments. Merchants would be needed to provide those.
So, it wasn't quite altruistic of them.

Vultures, although useful, Ikan thought.

Then came the guild of builders, carpenters, masons, sculptors, craftsmen architects and the rest. He took note of brooches not faces.

They voted as differently as they were.

Divided guild, baa

The guild of farmers and labourers came next, they voted war. Apparently, war meant selling more crops to merchants who supplied soldiers.

The guild of scribes and scholars voted for peaceful negotiations and war as a last resort.

No doubt those scroll eaters have already drafted long speeches and proposal concerning peace talks and its benefits.

The voting was done.

The High Councillors never voted. It was the law.

My opinion counts, my vote doesn't. Splendid work, ancestors.

As the attendants counted the pebbles, calling out the numbers as they did to the Assembly; Ikan hissed at the empty seat beside him.

Where is that elevated peasant?

"To go to war, says 120 of the Assembly" An attendant called out while standing firm and official.

"Not to go to war, says 30 of the Assembly."

Ikan arose victoriously, "We go to war then." Was there ever a doubt?

He noticed some discontented stares from the place the Ozians were seated.

They never stood a chance. He never doubted it for a second. He almost certainly always got what he wanted.

The leader of the House of Vona was the uncrowned King of Alamaria, or so did the politicians say and that was what Ikan really believed.

It was at that moment, that one of the double doors swung open, the one that led on an aisle straight to the centre.

Ikan watched this man in his thirties whom he knew only too well, move with quick strides, through the central aisle glancing apologetically at turning heads.

His eyes were dark, his brown hair rose in many tight entangling coils to a height above his head. His skin was of a colour most common in all of Alamaria-dark brown. He was cleanly shaven.

He wore a black luanzi. It fell to his laps like a long shirt, but it was body fitted, not billowing like most in the room.

It was slit at it sides to reveal limbs clothed in pants of the same fabric.
His feet were buried in flat leather shoes, polished black. His sleeves were long but not wide.

His collar was stiff, beneath it, an embroidery of gold thread and glitter ran down, forming alternate flower patterns, but at the centre, just between the abdomen and the chest, they formed the face of a snarling panther.

Small jade stones had been pressed into its face to represent eyes. He still dresses richly for an elevated peasant.

Hanging from his neck was a silver medallion which if was given a closer look would be seen to bear the insignia of an eagle -the trophy awarded to a victorious Alamarian general. Shows it off every time.

Ikan hissed softly. Emmeso of the House of Goe, the panther, the Thigian bane, victorious at the battle of Ack. High councillor for the commoners. My co councillor.

Why did he hate this man so much? Did it have something to do with the fact that the man had reached a peak in his political career while still young? A point Ikan had never reached until he was quite older.

Now, he was fifty, when he was in his thirties like this man, he was only a backbencher in the powerful House of Vona. Was it loath and jealousy?

Now look at him, young, so full of life. He had risen to high councillorship with much ease.

It even hurt more, when one considered the fact that the "boy" hadn't stayed in the Assembly for more than 3 years!

Now, he could claim equality with Ikan and that irked him to no end.

Of course his predecessors had designed the Assembly to have two high Councillors: One from the nobles, one from the commoners. That way they both would act as watch dogs to each other. Something he detested so much.

Equality with a commoner of the same age might be bearable but with this young up start it was like a salted wound.

Years ago Emmeso Goe was but a lowly officer in the army. Apparently, he had the luck to lead a decisive victory against the invading Thigians passing through Iteria at the mountain pass of Ack.

That shot him up to the position of general. He wasn't done yet, he won victory after victory for the Alamarian Army. He pushed the Thigians out of Iteria.

He became a local legend. He was talked about in bars, griots and minstrels composed songs for him calling him sent by the gods!

Mothers were anxious for him to marry their daughters, though he was already married.

Children were idolizing him. It seemed the whole city had fallen in love with him. Even the Assembly caught the fever.

After the wars, he was given a seat in the Assembly as a reward for his bravery. It was unnecessary! He wasn't high councillor then, if he was this wouldn't have happened.

He was a commoner that had managed to seduce the Assembly into making a place just for him.

Of course the fever lasted until the high councillor's biannual election. And of course he was voted high councilor for the commoners.

Although, Emmeso ancestors weren't always commoners, he noted.

Once Alamaria had six great houses. Goe was one noble house that fell into hard times and as the years went by they fell into the ranks of commoners and were forgotten.

He should have stayed down like his fathers. Disgraced and forgotten.

An exulted peasant with a touch of nobility. Ikan was certainly hateful.

As Emmeso got towards the centre, he turned and faced the Assembly. His voice was strong, a voice for commanding.

"My fellow country men, I apologize for arriving late. I wasn't informed that we had a meeting-"

Ikan caught him off, "It's disturbing that in such troubling times that a high councillor cannot be bothered to put up an early appearance, so exemplary of you."

I didn't hit him hard enough.

Emmeso turned to face Ikan who was now tugging at his beard.

"I apologize for my late arrival once more."

Ikan shrugged his shoulders, "Well, some good might come out of you just yet. Alamaria has decided to go to war. Time and tide wait for no man, not even High Councillors.

"We have taken the decision in your absence." He added that when he saw a look of slight surprise on Emmeso's face.

"The Thigians are at our door. Now more than ever we need a strong general to lead our forces against them. Everyone knows that you made your fame defeating them.

"Now, I do believe I speak for the Assembly when I say Alamaria would feel very reassured when Emmeso the brave, our Thigian bane goes to battle against these invaders once more.

"We can be certain of victory with you there. You might find that you would serve the State better in your armor than in a councillor's tunic." Ikan said with an after taste in his mouth. Assembly,do I speak for us all ?!"

The answer was a resounding yes!

Ikan smiled deviously. He had trapped him, there was no escaping it now.
The Assembly had spoken, its word was law. All must abide, even a high councillor.

"I accept the will of the Assembly."

Of course you do, trapped rat. You're ever so naive.

As Emmeso was about to take his seat, Ikan said in a concerned voice

"I hear they are led by Vantu, should we be worried?" He hardly restrained his inner laughter. His young friend had a lot to deal with.

Emmeso looked away, if not he might have noticed the sarcastic grin on his face and the delight in his eyes.

The upstart was going to war again. That would rid him of his presence. If the gods were good he would never return.

The battlefield was a dangerous place. Who knows? An arrow could fly out of nowhere, you could get stabbed, or cut or both. There were so many ways to die in battle.

Ikan cracked his knuckles. He felt very satisfied.

A very big and heartfelt "thank you" to my readers. Thanks for the support and voting.

Special thanks to FikkieAdeniyi for the lovely cover. You guys can check his books anytime. He writes amazing fantasies.