The Feast

Umbra groaned, falling on his face onto the futon his teachers had assigned to him.

Combat training was intense, and Umbra was frail. The meager tablescraps he managed to find at home had not prepared his body with the sheer muscle mass that the classes required. Umbra felt miserably small compared to his classmates. Every inch of his body ached.

He rolled over on his side, taking painful gasps of air. He wasn't cut out for this. He would never survive as a combatant. He couldn't throw himself on an opponent and overpower them.

His fingers brushed across his bag, clutching the video tape he had borrowed from the library. Umbra quickly checked the sleeping quarters, confirming he was alone. He crawled to the TV, slipping the tape into the VCR player. The blue screen flickered as he rewound the tape. An audible click came from the TV, and the video began.

Grainy, black-and-white film came into view, showing a dimly-lit stage and a troupe of human ballerinas. Their fluid, graceful movements mesmerized him. The men that joined their dance fascinated him even more so- to the point of formulating an idea in his mind.

What if, instead of forcing himself into an aggressive, boisterous combat style, he embraced his own natural flexibility and moved like the people on the screen?

---

Umbra had thought that the initial meeting between Tails and the council had been very tense. He was wrong.

The atmosphere of the lengthy dinner table was almost unbearable. Xantheus’s glare seemed to cast a hundred pound weight across Tails and Umbra. Umbra poked at the foreign food with a finicky fork, unwilling to treat his sensitive stomach to meat he didn't recognize.

“So, Lujoso,” Tails murmured, staring at the sullen girl beside him, “How's, um, your day been?”

“I've been writing all day,” she growled, not taking her eyes off her meal, “It's none of your business.”

“I hope your book goes well!” Tails turned to Umbra, seemingly unbothered by her flat dismissal of him, “Lujoso is the temple scribe,” he chimed in an informative tone.

Umbra nodded, gazing cautiously around the table. No one spoke.

Tails popped a cut of meat into his mouth, drumming his fingers on the table. “So, about that scuffle with that demon fox clan in Ereith...I think we should let it slide. It wouldn't be too smart to rush into an attack after just one incident.”

Xantheus’s expression remained unchanging. “We have deliberated and decided to attack the clan in retaliation,” he replied curtly.

Tails’s smile dropped and his tone grew strangled. “But I-”

“The decision has already been made. I have send out a squadron to Ereith.”

Umbra drew his shoulders in, the tension smothering.

“Also, Tails, I would appreciate it if you would not take that tone with me. It is very unbecoming of you,” Xantheus murmured, narrowing his eyes.

Tails stood, his face ashen. “Sir, as the emperor I-”

Xantheus came to his feet to match Tails, hovering a solid two feet over him. “And as the leader of your council, you are to take my advice.”

For a split second, Umbra saw Tails’s expression flicker, his fangs grinding into a tight frown. Black and white sparks flashed at his hands, but quickly disappeared. He shied under Xantheus’s stone cold glare, ducking his head and pushing away his chair.

“I'm finished with my dinner. Please excuse me.” Tails stumbled by Umbra, snatching his wrist.

Author's Note- please tell me yall are old enough to remember vcr tapes

also: i finally give myself a cameo and im a jerk lol