Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 180: The Council’s War Debate

By the time they were both ready, the sun had fully risen, illuminating Dewura’tt in brilliant morning light that made the city look freshly carved rather than millennia old.

They left the quarters together, making no effort to hide that they’d shared a room.

At this point, subtlety seemed pointless. Half the Council probably knew anyway, and the other half would figure it out soon enough.

The corridors were more active than the previous evening, with elves moving with morning purpose, servants preparing for the day’s activities, and warriors conducting patrols. Many noticed Jorghan and Sigora, their eyes tracking the pair with varying degrees of curiosity and speculation, but no one approached or commented.

As they descended toward the main level, where transport to Eldraven Hall would be arranged, they encountered other early risers heading in the same direction.

Patriarch Kal’tun appeared first, his tall frame making the corridor feel suddenly smaller. His face split in a wide grin when he saw them.

”Jorghan! Sigora! Good morning to you both.”

His tone carried knowing amusement that suggested he absolutely knew they’d shared quarters and found it entertaining rather than scandalous.

”Ready for another day of political maneuvering disguised as strategic planning?”

”As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jorghan replied.

”Though I suspect today’s session will be even more complex than yesterday’s.”

”Undoubtedly,” Kal’tun agreed, falling into step beside them.

”Half the Council spent last night scheming about how to use the Sol’vur restoration to their advantage. The other half spent it worrying about what you’ll do with your newfound legitimacy. Either way, you’ll be the center of attention again.”

They reached the main lobby, where other clan heads and representatives were gathering. Korreth stood near the entrance, speaking quietly with another patriarch Jorghan didn’t immediately recognize. When he spotted them, he broke off his conversation and approached.

His greeting was respectful.

”I trust you both rested well?”

”Well enough,” Sigora replied diplomatically.

”And you?”

”As well as one can when contemplating the Empire crisis,” Korreth said, his expression becoming more serious.

”I spent half the night reviewing our clan’s defense protocols, trying to determine if we’re as vulnerable as the five destroyed clans were. The conclusion was... unsettling.”

More clan heads filtered into the lobby—some alone, others with advisors and companions. The fur-covered Citrangada bounded in with her characteristic energy, her tail—Jorghan hadn’t noticed she had one until now—swishing behind her. She waved enthusiastically when she spotted Jorghan, her simian features arranged in a grin.

Tadrukein appeared in his more serpentine form, his lower body undulating with reptilian grace, his scaled torso bare except for ceremonial bands around his upper arms. His vertical pupils fixed on Jorghan briefly, a slight nod acknowledging his presence before moving on.

The Sarpetaretsu woman from the previous night, Naikini, entered with several other clan representatives, her golden ornaments catching the morning light. She noticed Jorghan and smiled, a gesture that carried genuine warmth rather than political calculation.

Yasoraga of the Ma’ulankr clan arrived with characteristic precision, her blue-white skin seeming to glow in the morning light. She moved through the gathering with purpose, exchanging brief words with various leaders, her dark eyes constantly assessing, cataloging, and planning.

The six patriarchs and matriarchs of the nearly extinct clans clustered together near one wall, speaking in low voices. Their body language suggested nervousness mixed with determination. When Vel’moth of the Nue’roka noticed Jorghan, he started to approach but was stopped by one of his companions; apparently they’d agreed to wait for a better moment.

Finally, Matriarch Madayanti entered, and the lobby’s ambient noise dropped noticeably.

Her presence commanded automatic respect, drawing eyes and creating space as she moved toward the exit.

”The transports are ready,” one of the Arumaks announced, its mechanical voice cutting through the quieter conversations.

”Please proceed to the landing platforms.”

The gathering moved as a collective unit, flowing through the exit and onto the platforms where multiple vessels waited. The same sleek hummingbird-shaped craft from the previous day were positioned at intervals, each one assigned to specific clan groups.

Jorghan and Sigora moved toward the vessel designated for the Sol’vur clan, Kal’tun and his advisors joining them. As they boarded, Jorghan glanced back at the assembled leadership—this diverse collection of beings who’d agreed to work together despite fundamental differences, united by necessity if not always by choice.

The other transports were loading simultaneously, various clan heads settling into their assigned vessels with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, all craft were occupied and ready for departure.

The journey to Eldraven Hall was brief, the vessels rising smoothly and accelerating toward the summit where the Council chamber awaited.

Through the transparent sections, Jorghan could see the city below waking fully, elves moving through streets, markets opening, daily life continuing regardless of what political decisions might be made in the chamber above.

It was grounding in a way, seeing that normal existence.

Whatever they decided today, those elves down there would continue living, working, and building their lives.

The Council’s decisions mattered, but they weren’t everything.

The transports approached the Hall’s landing platforms in coordinated formation, touching down with synchronized precision. The boarding ramps extended, and clan heads began disembarking, reforming into informal groups as they moved toward the massive entrance.

Jorghan walked between Sigora and Kal’tun, his shorter height making him stand out but no longer feeling inadequate. He’d proven himself. The whispers now carried respect rather than skepticism.

As they passed through the gateway entrance, he noticed the six patriarchs and matriarchs positioning themselves nearby, clearly waiting for an opportunity to approach. Their nervous energy was obvious even from a distance.

But that would have to wait.

The Assembly Chamber doors stood open ahead, the circular room with its transparent walls and thirteen thrones visible beyond.

Jorghan took a breath, settled his shoulders, and walked forward into the political arena.

The second day of Council had begun.

-

The Assembly Chamber filled with the same combination of anticipation and tension that had marked the previous day’s session.

Thirteen clan heads settled into their respective thrones, the circular arrangement ensuring no one held a position of obvious superiority.

Madayanti remained standing as the last attendees settled, her amber eyes sweeping the circle to ensure she had everyone’s attention.

”We reconvene to address the Empire crisis,” she began without preamble.

”Yesterday we catalogued the damage and acknowledged the scope of the threat. Today we must discuss concrete responses. What actions can we take, collectively, to protect our people from further harvesting?”

Patriarch Korven spoke first, his voice still carrying the tremor of trauma.

”We’ve tried defensive strategies. Fortified settlements, early warning systems, coordinated responses to attacks. None of it has been sufficient. The Empire adapts faster than we can, and their resources allow them to simply overwhelm our defenses through sheer volume.”

Matriarch Sashrutiena of the Dhra’ckin clan added, ”Even when we successfully repel an attack, the cost is prohibitive. We lose warriors, deplete essence reserves, and damage infrastructure. And the Empire just returns with more forces and different tactics. They’re wearing us down through attrition.”

”What about offensive strikes?” Korreth suggested.

”We’ve discussed this before, but perhaps it’s time to seriously consider targeting their facilities. If we can locate where they’re holding our captured people, we could launch rescue operations while simultaneously destroying their research capability.”

Tadrukein’s scaled face showed skepticism.

”We don’t know where most facilities are located. Imperial territory is vast, and they’ve hidden these research centers deliberately. The few we have discovered are heavily defended. Any rescue operation would likely result in more casualties than survivors recovered.”

”And there’s the retaliation problem,” Yasoraga added, her pale eyes calculating.

”Every time we’ve successfully struck Imperial targets, they’ve responded with escalated aggression. We rescue fifty elves; they capture two hundred in revenge. The numbers don’t favor us.”

The discussion continued in circles, with various clan heads proposing strategies and others pointing out fatal flaws. Fortify more settlements. Spread populations to make targeting harder. Negotiate with the Empire for prisoner exchanges. Each suggestion met with counterarguments that highlighted why it wouldn’t work or would create worse problems.

Jorghan listened in silence, his expression thoughtful, his fingers steepled together as he processed the various proposals. Sigora watched him from the secondary ring, recognizing the pattern of intense concentration that preceded his more decisive moments.

Finally, as the debate began recycling through previously discussed options, Jorghan spoke.

”Why don’t we just attack the capital?”

The chamber went silent.

Every eye turned to him, expressions ranging from shock to confusion to something that might have been horrified fascination.

-

Madayanti recovered first, her voice carrying careful control.

”Clarify what you mean by ’attack the capital.’”

Jorghan leaned forward in his throne, his crimson eyes moving around the circle. ”You’re all thinking defensively. How do we protect our settlements, how do we minimize casualties, and how do we survive continued aggression?

But defense alone never wins conflicts.

It just delays losing.”

He stood, and his presence expanded in that subtle way that made even the larger elves feel his intensity.

”The Empire is harvesting our people because there are no consequences for doing so. They send forces into our territories, capture who they want, and retreat safely behind their borders. We respond locally and defensively, and they adapt.