POV -> Caleb (head empty, no one's home)

Tiram's voice boomed across the room, walking circles around the few introductory topics for the celebration. The dance hall had more space to breath, but still held its heat a little too well for anyone in face paint. Caleb could see Colius secretly counting how many times their king said the word 'great', and Jollie had her nose scrunched as if something foul had wafted her way as Tiram spoke of the Vanguard's progress in the city of Westlock.

The placement of the White Knight's golden chair was at the base of the podium and the royal seats for Tiram and his family. It forced him to face the crowd, which meant he couldn't make a single face while the speech ran.

"Now don't let me hold you hostage."

Caleb eased with relief. Tiram's speech was nearly over. Tiram spilled some more words, Caleb patiently waiting for someone to start clapping while he blankly stared at the tapestries on the back wall. Then, after a few painfully quiet seconds, he realized every Archon was staring at him. Inprobus nudged his chin at the throne just past his shoulder, prompting him to rise and turn to his king.

He followed the formal process to approach the podium and Tiram, where, after a small bow he dipped his voice to a hush. "Your Majesty?"

Tiram motioned at the pedestal where Rayao was discretely switching the pages out. "Your speech."

Caleb blinked. Tiram had a nasty habit of handing off the bad news to Caleb when he could pin him down to address the public. There were some contenders for what it could be, the new calamity was at the forefront of everyone's mind, and the Witch of the Westlock not far behind. Half the merchants in the room were aware of the feathery weight of the Heroguard's wallet from many a failed conquest. And the rest could see how thinly their troops were stretched from the whittling attendance at their training grounds.

He forced a smile. "Right, my speech."

Caleb took the spotlight and thumbed through the pages, quickly checking what he could skip over while contemplating keeping the gimmicky black horns he was wearing on. His gaze wandered to an effigy of Ra'zerun sitting as the centerpiece of a food-bare table at the back of the party hall, chipped from ice and still melting in the hot room despite the enchanted cooling stone it was sitting on.

Not risking his patron seeing him address the people of Toroy Garotzch in such a blasphemous state, he carefully removed them, awkwardly clearing his throat and diving right in.

"Before this evening's festivities are to start, I would like to kick off with an important decision that has weighed on our great city, and our great nation, for months…"

He skimmed further down the script as the words pooled out of his mouth, his brow furrowing as he read over what he was supposed to say again and again. Then, he searched the Archons faces for a culprit. But even Colius was sipping at his little teacup in anticipation as he kicked his legs up on the armrest of his chair. And then, he looked back at Tiram, cheeks rosie with alcohol already as he grinned over the rim of his goblet.

"Tonight, the Heroguard will shed its traditional colours under Ka'zaz's rule, and celebrate our strength in his absence by… choosing… a new uniform colour." Caleb forced the rest of the script out with a smile more mechanical than Rayao's. "Blue… or red?"

The crowd hesitated to clap, finally following Tiram's lead as the king from his seat to applaud. Amongst the quiet claps and uneasy whispers, a voice cut through, sharp and loud as it rang like the cry of a bird. "What news of Westlock and the Witch? Will the Heroguard slay her before the next calamity comes?"

He eyed the woman in a white owl mask that had delivered the heckle, two guards already at her side and trying to discretely coax her to the door. The Screecher didn't push back at the escort, scribbling away her story into a little notepad, and eyeing the walls for the next exit she would be able to slip through to get her talons on more courtroom gossip. They were harmless creatures, if no one counted the overblown stories they slapped to enchanted parchment and sold at large for half a sliv. But despite their shortcomings, their stories were welcomed between cities and nations thirsty for one another's gossip.

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Tiram pounded his sceptre to re-seize the room as he approached Caleb's pedestal. "An incredible suggestion from Ra'zerun's champion! Regardless of what the Archon's choose, these new colours will make our troops look the best, as an ode to our big and beautiful nation!"

Caleb reluctantly allowed Tiram to share the pedestal, raising his voice to call out to the confused crowd. "Please enjoy your drinks - we will deliberate in privacy."

A sound blocking spell from Rayao rose behind him as he left the pedestal, doming over the eight golden seats now filled with eight mildly flabbergasted Archons. Caleb patiently waited for the first person to speak - but none could find the words. The only sound around the table was the metal clink of Rayao's steps as he distributed a golden satchel to each Archon.

Caleb emptied three small rocks into his palm, a red, a blue, and a white. To think that Tiram's special announcement was for an important decision was far too much to hope for.

"So he gets to talk ears off? I'd rather flash my bare ass to a full grown drake." Jollie growled, stashing her golden sack at the arm of her chair, "Get Horn to handle the party next time, at least he can put on a tune and keep the chatter short."

"To be very clear, I did not organize this part of the party." Colius said, eyeing the sound blocking enchantment to make sure Tiram was well outside of it. "Can we please just vote? It's soundproof, it doesn't conceal us."

"Who put money on mid-war rebranding for Tiram's next genius idea?" Perry mused, somehow propping his heavy chair up on its back legs with his feet up on the table that curved in front of them all.

Inprobus half raised his hand, catching a small sack of slivs Sithech tossed at him.

I don't care if you put me in bright purple and shitty orange tights, it will be pitch black with blood and ash in a fortnight." Jollie growled, raising a part of her cloak to flaunt a brownish stain, that apparently wasn't there for cosmetic purposes.

Inprobus grimaced. "Jollie, we all know your opinion is the same for anything that comes out of Tiram's mouth. Perhaps we can explore red, for the blood stains?"

"Red and shit brown for when it dries, among other things." Jollie scoffed. "Suppose you're right, blue will make my soldiers easier to spot."

Max cleared his throat, grinding the three rocks in his hand while he did anything to avoid holding the other Archons' gazes. "There's a few tenants in the Psych Ward that really don't like red… if we do choose red, can I only… make it my cloak?"

"What are you doing? Raising bulls?" Perry scoffed.

"The only one who should have a special uniform is the head Archon." Sithech said, motioning to Caleb.

Max looked around timidly, "Well… what's wrong with white?"

"Didn't you hear Caleb's speech darling? It's too Ka'zaz." Colius chimed.

Max grinded the rocks in his palm harder. "What's wrong with Ka'zaz?"

"Oh nothing, he just let a portal to hell open up, started a calamity, then retired and didn't tell anyone where he was going.' Colius eyed all the glares he received, raising his open palms as he slouched back into his chair to nurse his champagne flute. "Sorry! To be clear, I'm not hating, just stating facts."

"Does that mean we're going to have to change Caleb's title?" Perry cooed.

"The Red Knight sounds a tad aggressive." Horn mumbled.

"It's not like the White Knight doesn't sound suspicious." Colius muttered.

"So… Blue Knight?" Inprobus said.

"That just sounds sad." Sithech grumbled.

Caleb tapped his fingers in frustration, catching Rayao lingering just outside of the enchantment while the Archons continued their half-hearted argument. He eyed the crowd of nobles, using whatever they could scavenge of their costumes as makeshift fans while they tapped their feet impatiently for what should have been an easy decision.

What honestly, shouldn't have even been a decision.

Caleb left the red and blue stone in his sack, shaking it and pulling one at random. "Okay. Everyone blue." He gave Rayao a thumbs up while the other Archon's eyed him questionably.

"I thought we were going red? For the blood?" Inprobus blurted, the Archons exchanging panicked looks as Rayao peeled away the enchantment. Some nods and head shakes were exchanged while Caleb held up the little blue rock, before remembering the magic that coloured the stone could only be seen by its handler.

With a sigh of defeat, he set the blue rock down in front of him, the other Archons, and Tiram placing their own rocks before them. The air was tense with hesitation. One by one, the stones glowed with coloured lights.

Rayao's voice rang out above the chatter of the room. "A tie!"

Sithech's hissing whisper was the first thing Caleb heard, as he eyed the man comparing his blue light to Max's light. "Why did you abstain?"

Max cringed in his seat, staring at the greyish light in front of him. "I thought that meant white."

"First time being an Archon?" Perry cooed, squaring his chair back on the floor when Jollie made a move for one of the legs.

Jollie stared at her red illusion, the defeat clear in her eyes. "Tie is a bad omen. Public vote."

"Public vote." Caleb agreed with exasperation.

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