Boredom had always been such a fascinating concept to Eragon. To think that intelligent, sentient beings could not be perpetually entertained by all the fascinating apparatuses of the world confounded him to no end. Even now he was ecstatically following the journey of two mountain rats as they scoured for food. It was quite like many adventure tales his father had told him as a child. The rats had been bitter enemies, constantly infringing upon the other's territory and ravaging his enemy's mate. But the winters of Yakir were brutal and unforgiving, and for the rats, food-supply was a problem. So they had decided to put their differences aside and team up, in hopes of discovering as much extra food within the cracks and crevices of the Blue Palace as their tiny little paws could hold.

However, betrayal is a tempting mistress. One of the rats, whom Eragon had jokingly named Murtagh, was secretly storing the majority of the food he found in order to keep it from his blissfully ignorant partner. Smart little bastards, rats were, especially those of the mountain variety. People often mistook them for nothing more than stupid, disease-infested vermin. But Eragon knew better. He was eagerly awaiting the moment when Tzvirael, the other rat, uncovered Murtagh's dastardly plan. Would he fight him, or would he play Murtagh the fool and swipe all of his hidden booty right from under his nose? The suspense could kill a man!

"What say you, Master Eragon?" Eragon switched gears instantaneously.

"The Burok-Ai threat is minimal, not nearly large enough to get the Rider Corps involved. The bulls are strong, but stupid. Our allies in the South would have no problem eradicating them should the need arise." Over the years, Eragon had become quite adept at splitting his concentration up evenly between multiple different stimuli. It was something that came with centuries of practice. Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the room. Thranliel, the Elven rider who addressed him, was not so convinced.

"Master Eragon, with all due respect, was not the Rider Corps created for the sole purpose of peace? We cannot stand idly by while these bull-men burn and slaughter countless lives in the South." The room was silent, and all eyes were on Eragon. He raised a hand to his beard and scratched it, a habit he had only recently taken up.

"As much of a threat as the Burok-Ai are to Calvin's kingdom, his forces are holding them at bay with relative ease. And while you are absolutely correct in saying the Corps is an instrument of peace, we must remember that it is not a weapon. We must only mobilize the Corps in defense, not attack." Eragon saw frustration flare in Thranliel's eye. "However, you've a valid point. A proposition, perhaps?" He asked the entire room, but directed his comment toward Thranliel. The elf nodded with a look of cautious curiosity on his face. "We will send a squadron of Riders from the Eighth regiment of the Guard to turn Calvin's defense into an attack and wipe out the Burok-Ai menace before it gets any larger." Eragon's arms were out as he awaited the senate's decision. However, he put them back down when each race started quickly murmuring to themselves. He heaved a great sigh as he sat down, rubbing his eyes and realizing for the first time in a couple of months how tired he was. Fortunately, the deliberating ceased quickly and they were ready to cast a vote. "All in favor, raise your hands." The representative from each race raised his or her hand. A smile spread across Eragon's face. A compromise had been reached. "All those opposed?" Not a single hand went up.

"Excellent!" Eragon exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "On to the next topic-"

"Which is Silverback." Interrupted the Dwarven representative, Kisgreg. An awkward tension filled the room. Just once. Eragon thought. Just once I'd like to get through one of these damn meetings without bringing him up! Just once! That's all I ask!

"Kisgreg, my friend, I have told you before-"
"The beast is a menace!" Kisgreg shouted, slamming his fist down onto his table. Chaos erupted in the Senate.

Well, that's a tad bit dramatic.

Not now, Saphira.

Ooh, so sassy today, little one!

Gods, you're insufferable. Eragon knew, wherever she was, his dragon was chuckling in her gullet.

Each race was now attempting to get a word in edgewise.

"Please, order! Order, gentle people, please!" He yelled, magically magnifying his voice so that he could be heard. The hall quieted down. "We have the representative system for a reason, people. There is no need for each and every one of us to go berserk at the slightest mention of controversy." There were muffled complaints and insults throughout the hall.

"Now, like I have stated and we have agreed before, Silverback-"

Suddenly, the massive steel doors to the Hall of Kings slowly swung forward. The Senate instantly became silent. It was a law not to interrupt the meetings of the Senate unless under the most extreme of circumstances. Whispers ran through the place and reverberated off the walls. A single figure, covered with elegant, black furs gracefully glided into the room. A smile spread across Eragon's face as he felt her presence touch his mind. Evidently, she was not allowing him entrance into hers.

Ha! She's late.

And aggravated. Saphira responded.

Has Firnen arrived?

His dragon's mood seemed to shift slightly. He tarries. He's trying to annoy me.

Eragon chuckled. It seems he's succeeded. Eragon told Saphira.

The hall was silent as a crypt as Arya walked across its expanse, coldly looking straight out in front of her with her proud chin raised with dignity, as if challenging anyone in the hall to call her on her tardiness. Eragon had always felt many things for the Queen of Elves, but above all, he was curious. Over an entire millennia he'd known her and he knew every single thing there was to know about her. He knew her favorite kind of plant, her least favorite day of the year, and even why she was late to this council meeting. He knew her interests, her motivations, her loves, her hates; Eragon even knew her name. Her true name. He knew her so perfectly that he could literally describe her with a couple of simple words in the Ancient Language. And yet, despite all of this, she was still a mystery to him. Eragon had no idea why. Anyone who knows the definition of the word "mystery" would have been able to explain to him that she was, in fact, quite literally the most polar opposite thing from a mystery to him. But Eragon enjoyed his juvenile theories and tendencies, something else he knew Arya hated.

Thranliel is absolutely fuming with you, your grace. Eragon teased, letting a small smile curve on his bearded face.

You will not talk to me, Shadeslayer. I'm in no mood for jests and prods. Ooh, she was testy.

Shadeslayer? Eragon assumed she had said that to wound him, but it really only ended up amusing him more than anything. He hadn't been called "Shadeslayer" in hundreds of years. Now, now, your grace, is that any way to address the head of the Senate of Aryal?

You've become insufferably cocky in your old age, Bromson. She replied with malice, though Eragon also sensed a hint of smugness in her words as well.

Bromson? Why, you are just full of the titles and surnames today, my Queen.

You will be addressed soon, Master Eragon. The formalities of my arrival are coming to a close. And as she finished that thought, so did the last of the representatives finish formally greeting her and welcoming her to Aryal.

"You are as fair as ever, your grace." Thranliel said politely.

"Please Master Thranliel, let us converse at a later time. I do not mean to delay this council meeting any more than I already have." She replied, not quite as politely as the comment she was responding to.

"Then let us resume." Kisgreg announced. He looked at Eragon with a stern look, almost threatening in nature.

"Master Kisgreg," Eragon started, making sure to choose his words carefully. "Silverback is a menace. He's killed countless of innocents and set back the progress of our city hundreds of times over. But a shepherd must be prepared to lose a few sheep to the wolves if he plans to grow his flock. Silverback is not nearly a big enough threat for us to assign even a single rider to the case. We have a whole squadron, filled with the most elite riders the Blue Blades have ever trained-"

"Our self-made wolf hunters have been "hunting" Silverback for the better half of a century, Eragon." Silence enveloped the room. No one had ever shown such disrespect to Eragon in public, not even his enemies. The tension in the room was so thick it almost seemed to weigh down on them. Eragon imagined that had he drawn Brisingr he could have carved himself a slice.

"I propose a compromise." Kisgreg proclaimed. His eyes were locked with Eragon's, who waited a moment before answering the Dwarven rider.

"Very well, Master Kisgreg. What do you propose?"

"Let us enlist the services of one of King Calvin's wolf hunters. They are thorough and properly trained. A true hunter's guidance is exactly what our boys need to hunt down Silverback's pack and terminate it." All heads in the room turned to Eragon. That always meant a unanimous decision.

That cunning little dwarf…

My my, aren't you just bursting with titles today, your grace.

Not in the mood, Arya.

Oh really? I could have sworn you were as jovial as a court jester in spring not three minutes ago.

Eragon drove her from his mind, and set up walls so she couldn't invade again. "Well then let's take a vote." he said with a sigh, already accepting defeat. "All in favor?" Every hand in the room besides his shot up even before he was done talking. Eragon could've ended it right there. The senate needs a unanimous vote on matters that concern interacting with King Calvin. And if he had voted against it he would not have been challenged. The people of Aryal trusted Eragon. He had been a Consul for the first ten years of the city's life and had served as the head of the Senate ever since his two terms had ended. He was the headmaster of the Oromis School of Magic and the Grand Master of the Dragon Riders. Not even the King of Yakir was as revered and respected as Eragon.

However, he was tired and he understood why Kisgreg was so aggressive with the Silverback matter. "Very well." Eragon sighed. He raised his hand in defeat and immediately started plotting and planning how he would handle the backlash of this newly created conundrum.

After a few moments of eye rubbing Eragon raised both his hand to call for a stop to the chatting that had erupted after the verdict. It immediately stopped. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it's about time we bring this senate meeting to an end." murmurs of exasperated agreements flittered through the hall. "Very well, I call this meeting of the Senate of Aryal to a close."