Chapter 27: Alexandria Ascendant
Alexandria ignored the curious glances sent her way. She did not ignore them in the sense that she disregarded them entirely, instead, she made no indication that she noticed the searching looks.
Most dismissed her almost immediately, their glances jumping across her body, evaluating, before settling on her garb and then slipping away to other subjects of interest. Whispered advice and conversation flitted around her, in a myriad of languages.
Māori drew her interest for a second, her eye moving toward a Polynesian woman, tanned and clad in a black robe with a blue stole. Her words were hush, like the rest but the unusual language drew Alexandria's attention for a split second. The woman was distracted by another islander near her, much older, grey hairs speckling a black beard. The room itself was a mix of ethnicity which actually surprised Alexandria slightly.
It did reinforce her notion that the White Council was a global organization, there seemed to be at least a token representative to every race or nation. Southeast Asian, Native American, South America, Northern Africa, and Sub-saharan Africa, Europe, and Eastern Europe.
The only times Alexandria had seen such a relatively balanced mixture was at international Endbringer fights, and even then some people, usually of the country under assault, were predominantly greater.
The balance here spoke of the idea that the White Council was not merely a Western institution, even with the convention here being held in North America. Alexandria felt that she could draw more parallels to the United Nations then she had suspected. Furthermore, with any hope, the White Council would be more effective than the United Nations.
In her home reality, the United Nations power had declined immensely with the advent of parahumans and the resultant fracturing of international trade that the Endbringers enforced. The cooperation between the nations that the United Nations sprung from was sadly shattered when trade became more difficult. Still, Cauldron had balanced that issue, allowing the world to collapse into hegemonic spheres of influence slowly, avoiding actual war, but ensuring the world survived with barely simmering Cold Wars.
Earth Aleph, however, had a much stronger United Nations. The density of parahumans meant that their effects were almost nonexistent, and without the Endbringers, international trade and cooperation were on the ascendency. Even China was better off, not nearly the isolationist power of Earth Bet but instead drawn into the global world through mutually beneficial trade. Even Africa was better off, and that was a bitter pill to swallow. The idea that Alexandria, that Cauldron, had led to the tumults of that continent was distasteful.
Alexandria knew that it was true, however. The number and quality of the natural triggers there was immense. A prize paid for in blood. Both Number Man and Doctor Mother had expressed their certainty that anyone that survived would be a worthy enemy for Scion when he finally decided to finish off humanity for good.
Alexandria found the idea distasteful. It went against her moral sensibilities, against the injustice that she wished to right as a naïve child. Against what she thought she would do when she first became a hero. It was a necessary evil, ultimately, and she placed those ruminations from her mind.
There were several tables, with chairs around them, that held a more eclectic group of individuals, whom Alexandria had deduced were the aforementioned observers that Ancient Mai mentioned. The Wardens, clad in monochrome grey cloaks, watched over these people more closely than the people in robes.
There were several in particular that warranted a closer examination. A pale blonde woman with flawless skin in a grey pantsuit sat languidly at a half-filled table, poised immaculately but with a look of supreme boredom on her face. Her half-lidded grey eyes drifted over Alexandria but she made no reaction. The other two at her table were men, and both looked on edge, but not in a way that warranted attention.
Their discomfort wasn't because of fear but of another more primal drive. Alexandria admitted to herself that the platinum blonde woman was beautiful in an almost unconsciously erotic way. She also took note of the way a Warden loomed close by the woman and the slightly tense way she held herself. She wanted to appear in control but she wasn't trusted. She was one of the few that seemed to attract the attention of her hosts, and that was an interesting matter.
There was another, a man clad in a black suit, with a little American flag lapel pin and dark sunglasses who also looked important. The fine fabric and neatly trimmed beard were atypical for the more archaic robes most wore but fit more with what Alexandria would expect from an international conference. His lips were pulled up in a grimace of distaste and his hands were cupped around a styrofoam cup, but otherwise, he was motionless.
The most interesting was a foreign woman, Han Chinese, and Alexandria's attention immediately jumped to her because of the ethnicity she shared with Ancient Mai. She did not draw a connection between the two, besides the fact both were Chinese, but the sheer sharpness of a nearby Warden's gaze was enough to draw her attention.
The Warden stood, still as a statue in between the woman and the dais, facing the observers, but more certainly focused on the woman. The woman was human, imperceptible fidgeting, almost completely eradicated by excellent etiquette training, enough to reveal such a truth. This was unlike the blonde woman, whose unnatural serenity was an excellent beacon for her inhumanity.
Alexandria floated over toward her, curious what would draw the attention of the White Council so immensely to what appeared to be an ordinary woman. The woman was older, streaks of grey hair within black, with expertly applied rouge and a perfectly done coiffure with a single sharp green jade hairpin holding her locks in place. Crow's eyes just appeared to grasp at the sides of her face, otherwise she would be in the prime of youth. Her features were severe, and Alexandria could tell that she was not often given to laughter.
She came to rest about a chair's width away, the Chinese woman glanced toward her, taking in her appearance in a swift, quick movement.
"I hope this seat isn't spoken for?" Alexandria questioned rhetorically, in English, even as she made it clear that even if it was, she would probably take it anyway. That way, she would still get the seat, even if the woman tried to use an excuse.
The woman's brown eyes darted toward her, barely taking in her face, but dipping down her body, fixating on the ruffled overcoat. Such a dismissal just based on her apparel was something that Alexandria had not encountered for years. Of course, this was partially because she had usually taken care to show up in proper dignified apparel for all her functions, both as Rebecca Costa-Brown and Alexandria. The few rare times she was unable usually something incredibly unusual had happened, which meant her clothing, or lack of clothing was ignored.
Furthermore, she was Alexandria. If she had shown up in a bikini, people would still have given her deference, even if they would have also immediately called for Master/Strangers protocols. Such was the weight of her reputation on Earth Bet. A weight of reputation that had eroded with her death and subsequent rebirth in a world that did not know her.
It was refreshing. Tantalizing. A subtle refreshment to a soul that had been long tied down by the horrors of the world she had to permit for the greater good of all mankind. In a way, being cast away by Cauldron, and that was what it really was since Contessa's expression had spoken that truth to her more than any of Dinah Alcott's words.
So, when the woman next to Alexandria curved her lips into a grimace, Alexandria did not take offense.
"Disorderly," The woman murmured in southwestern Mandarin, barely audibly. The slight accent was just enough for Alexandria to narrow the woman's origin down to the Yangtze River Basin. While she had little cause to interact with Earth Bet's Chinese Union-Imperial, she had plenty of reason, as an operative of Cauldron to interact with the other versions of China across multiple worlds. She never forgot a single word, a single language, spoken to her. Perfect recall was useful for many things, learning was the work of a single afternoon. Mastery followed swiftly, within days of learning and internalizing.
She answered in the same dialect, perfect accent applied, "It must be egregious if you offer me an insult to my face."
The woman went white and then a dusting of red graced her cheekbones, her lips twitched, spasmed really, and she turned her face away. Disregarding Alexandria as well she could, but Alexandria could see her pulse jump in her neck. However, Alexandria did not let any satisfaction color her expression. Instead, she turned away, her eye meeting the Warden watching the two of them.
She was a thin, an almost bony looking Iberian woman, dark suspicious brown eyes set in a dusky-skinned face, a common complexion shared by those from the Mediterranean who were touched with the blood of the Middle East. The grey cloak and blue stole seemed to rest heavy on her shoulders, and one arm cradled the other, sword sheathed by her side. She did not carry a stick or 'focus' like the other Wardens. Her expression was relatively passive but the slightest glimmer of wry amusement flickered across her otherwise stoic face. A slight expression.
Alexandria sat, lowering herself into a deceptively padded seat with merely an exertion of will, her body floating into place more than moving. The movement was deceptively smooth, something which she knew exaggerated the otherworldliness of Alexandria when she had participated in various peace talks throughout her tenure.
The time to appear as a normal human, the chance to do so, was long over. No matter what the White Council was, it was clear that non-humans walked this world. It was also clear that they held equal or greater sway to the White Council in the world.
It was curious since by all indications the Chicago she had arrived in clearly belonged to the United States of America, and that Canada was still north of the United States. At the same time Colombia, in South America, was clearly embroiled with the supernatural. Yet there was no representative from the United States at this meeting, at least none that were recognized as greater than just an observer.
It painted an unpleasant picture of the world. Alexandria wasn't sure she liked it.
She heard a chair screech behind her as it was pulled free from a table, dragging across the tiled floor. She settled down at the table, adopting a steepled position with her fingers, as was her custom. There were three candles at the table, all pillars. One was fresh, the wick barely receding into the wax, one nearly burned away, it's wick withered to a mere weakly flickering thread. The last stood in between, but was misshapen from the heat, or perhaps malformed by its process of creation.
"My, my," Alexandria heard the swish of fabric, suit legs brushing against each other before the other even spoke.
It was the sultry blonde from before, Alexandria could tell just from the sound the chair had made and the direction the voice came from. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor, a deliberate noise.
Alexandria turned, eye scanning over the face of the Warden in front of her table, whose eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Beyond her, on the dais, a man with a silver beard was likewise looking over, something like distaste on his face. His distaste was more for the aforementioned blonde than for her, she could see by the ways his eyes lingered on something over her head.
"You sure seem to have the Wardens in a real tizzy," the woman spoke, her words fairly dripping with humor.
Alexandria tilted her head back, finally looking at her verbal accoster.
Her grey eyes jumped over Alexandria's face, lingering on her ruined eye before locking eyes with her. Grey into her own solitary brown. The blonde's eyes flickered, widening slightly.
"It is curious," Alexandria acknowledged, and then turned the observation back on the blonde, "But perhaps warranted. Just as they watch you."
The blonde smiled nastily, what should've been a pretty expression but was instead something filled with malice.
"Warranted, yes," she replied, "I find myself unfathomably curious about an unscheduled observer."
Her eyes flickered toward the other woman sitting at the table, Alexandria turned her head, enough to see out of her peripheral vision. The Chinese woman's expression was carefully controlled, but Alexandria could see irritation bubbling beneath her skin from long practice.
The blonde's face twitched, an extremely subtle micro-expression, before she smiled again, even less natural than before, "I hope it would not be presumptuous of me to seek permission to sit at your table, representative Xiěyè."
The blonde paused, then added, "of the Jade Court."
Alexandria's interest immediately sharpened. The Red Court was a significant polity, as was the White Council. Now there was a 'Jade Court.' Were all supernatural polities color-coded? No, in the same moment that her perfect mind asked herself the question it was answered, Winter had acted as a force, and it did not seem to adhere to a naming scheme involving colors.
Xiěyè turned slowly, and offered a small smile of her own, even if it was tinged with the slightest trace of irritation, "These tables were provided by the White Council, my position as a gracious guest does not permit me to deny your assumption."
A carefully worded non-answer, that perfectly conveyed that Xiěyè would rather the woman did not sit but acknowledged that she could actually do nothing if she did.
The blonde smiled, but hesitated for a split second, evidently picking up on the barely concealed pretext. The hesitation lasted just a split second longer before the blonde stepped away, pulling out a chair at Alexandria's table a chair's space away and sitting down.
Alexandria allowed her eye to glance over her new table-companion. Her skin was flawless, and she wore no makeup, not even subtly applied blush, lipstick, or eyeshadow. All the same, she looked nearly perfect, even the subtle moistness of her lips. The blonde licked those self-same lips, watching Alexandria intently.
"I know why I'm here," she said, "but you're new."
Alexandria pressed her fingers together, unimpressed by her attempts at what she clearly thought was coquettish manipulation.
"I have business with the White Council," she replied succinctly. The blonde's eyes widened slightly before a wariness entered them, but still, she questioned.
"If I may, what is your business?"
"The matter of debt," Alexandria replied, curious what the reaction such a slip of information as she was giving would engender, "A debt owed to me."
There it was. My, my, Alexandria thought semi-maliciously, there was fear in those eyes. The talk of debts seemed so much more serious in this world, even the interest of the Chinese woman, Xiěyè, seemed fixated on her, when before she attempted indifference.
"Now," Alexandria demanded, "What is your name?"
The blonde licked her lips again, this time more in nervous apprehension than coquettishness. For some reason, the response reminded her of her Wards when she took them to meet important people for the Youth Guard mandated networking. It was always amusing when someone met a senator and didn't realize until they were shaking her or his hand, hearing the name in their ears. A mechanical motion, treading water in the deep side of the pond.
It was most curious that talk of debts owed and names would provoke such wariness. It was only a fulfillment of Alexandria's previous suspicion that both had great meaning, far more than they ought. Dispute her disbelief at the notion, she was not nearly stupid enough to believe that something that everyone here seemed to hold with such importance was nothing more than a social convention. She had seen master powers at work, ones that bent the mind and applied arbitrary rules to others. She stipulated that this forbearance of debts and names might be in some way connected to the Unseelie Accords that Ancient Mai had cited.
If the Unseelie were connected to Winter, then that meant the Queen of Winter was likewise connected. It pained Alexandria to admit it, but she was forced to consider the idea that she was dealing with another Goddess scenario. This one, not a product of Cauldron's malfeasance. If the method of enforcement was somehow connected to the powers of one individual...
Alexandria resolved to do more research into the nature of this world. Specifically, her ideas on debts and giving names needed to be reevaluated. It also seemed prudent not to let anything know her real name if the rules of a fairytale world were being enforced upon reality.
"I am merely a member of House Skavis," the blonde, appearing discomfited.
Alexandria stared at her, her eye meeting the blonde's two, saying, "Skavis."
The blonde's pale throat moved as she swallowed, her eyes sharp, even as she adopted a tone of deference, tittering, "Of the White Court."
There it was again, Alexandria thought snidely, another color based faction. Interestingly enough this was a repeat color. White was already taken by the White Council. Was there also a Red Council? Black Council? Black Court? How amusing.
Alexandria just held the eyes of the White Court woman for a moment before quirking her lips upward, into what might be a smile if you wanted to be optimistic.
"White Court, Jade Court, Red Court," she noted, her expression carefully placid, "How interesting."
Neither of the two near her looked like they knew how to take that. The woman from the Jade Court twitched bodily, eyes flickering widely for a moment before a frown settled on her face.
The other, the woman from the White Court, had adopted a plastic expression, a smile that was brittle, "Ah, we aren't connected, at all."
"No?" Alexandria asked, her question curious, but the tone sufficient to explain exactly what she thought about that particular assertion.
The woman swallowed again, convulsively. The woman from the Jade Court stayed silent. The implication even to that question was interesting. A connection somehow was implied.
"Inelegant leeches," the Jade Court sniffed dismissively, even if her tone was just a smidgen too high. Vampires? Was that the connection? Alexandria wondered, watching both.
Alexandria was spared from having to respond to a pair of words that was more scathing condemnation than a potential segue into a conversation by the silver-bearded man at the dais.
"Per auctoritatem penes me per Senior Consilio et auctoritatis in me Alba Consilii de Merlino, quod placitum est ut voco," the Latin words echoed out over the suddenly quiet room. The Latin itself was strange, Alexandria immediately noted. It wasn't Ecclesiastical Latin and neither was it what was regularly proclaimed as Classical Latin.
It was a new, third category, but Alexandria was able to translate the statement with quick surety, virtue of her professional knowledge of both kinds, "By the authority vested in me by the Senior Council, and the authority granted to me as Merlin of the White Council, I call this convention to order."
As the Latin words poured forth fluently from the silver-haired man's mouth, his sharp and surprisingly cold blue eyes skimmed over the crowd, resting for a moment on an immensely old man, who was currently lowering himself into a chair feebly. Something like triumph glittered, mid-sentence behind the eyes of the self-proclaimed Merlin of the White Council.
As the last words left his mouth, the Merlin banged down an old wooden gavel, crowned with what looked like slightly tarnished silver. The White Court representative of House Skavis flinched, her attention snapping away from Alexandria to the dais.
Behind the Merlin, who himself stood behind the ornate podium with the triskelion engraving, there were seven more podiums, each lesser and lacking ornamentation.
Ancient Mai stood behind one, rheumy eyes not tracking anyone in the crowd, but instead lingering over a thin paper flattened atop her podium.
A Native American man stood to her right, long grey hair streaked with white and a few scant strands of black. His dark eyes flashed intently beneath dark brows, skimming the room in much the same way the Merlin had. His eyes passed over Alexandria, and Alexandria quirked an eyebrow as a raccoon leaned out from behind the man to clutch at a mote of floating dust. The Native American man finished his panoramic scan of the room about the same time as the Merlin finished speaking.
Another woman stood next to him, behind her own unadorned podium, this time with the dusky complexion that signified African descent. Her curly black hair was greying, but her eyebrows were still intensely dark. Her robe was black, and a purple stole rested over, like the other members of the White Council on the dais. A small purple and gold necklace rested daintily around her neck and in her hands, she clutched a rosewood staff, the soft red color standing out amongst the aged appearance of those on the dais. Her brown eyes stared into nothingness, at something that was not there.
A short European man stood next to her, his head balding and shiny, even under the candlelight. His eyes were sunken but glittered with intelligence, he watched the entrance intently, even as his hands clutched around a small white scroll sealed with red wax. His whole appearance screamed exhaustion like he was at the end of his rope, and his gaunt face and thin body only added to that impression. A moment later, his eyes snapped over to her, some unspoken signal bringing his attention to her.
A deep suspicion crossed his face, as he stared at her, but he did not meet her eyes. Instead, his eyes roved over her garb and then her ruined face with just the slightest expression of distaste.
The next member of the White Council was a North African or Middle Eastern man. He was immensely tall, even more so than Wizard Dresden, Alexandria estimated he was slightly over seven feet tall and looked like he held a subtle majesty. The kind of man which some might claim with some credibility belonged to a royal lineage. His face was old and weathered, but no less intense. His short beard, streaked with distinguished silver. One eye was dark, and bore the weight of countless years, seeming to stare into and through everything, but not missing a single iota of detail. The other eye appeared to be a steel ball. He did not acknowledge Alexandria's attention but his mouth moved silently, almost imperceptibly, as if he was talking to something that was not there.
The last podium stood empty and was conspicuous by the absence of a person. Many eyes in the audience, those which Alexandria could see from her angle, studied it intently. The immensely old man with distaste and uncertainty. A younger man, of Hispanic descent but with a sharply trimmed beard that was speckled with the first traces of white, eyed it with naked ambition, hidden after a short moment.
"Totiens admoneam necesse est ut in publica spectatores nunc operating sub verbis observatio, ut in Ordine ex luce donare per Accords," the Merlin spoke, his attention turning toward the gaggle of observers, his eyes appraising. His attention now lingered on her, almost reluctant, before jumping to the blonde next to her, where he did grimace slightly.
Alexandria automatically translated his words, "I must remind the official observers that they are now operating under the terms of the Rite of Observance as elucidated in the Accords."
Based on her earlier interactions with Ancient Mai, Alexandria felt comfortable deducing that the Rite of Observance was more of a formal affair. It incorporated some kind of rules of hospitality and seemed enough that the White Council felt comfortable admitting what might be enemies, based on the general distaste. It seemed probable that the Rite of Observance forbade the observers from disseminating the information learned in their official positions. The question was merely, how was it enforced? The Accords were mentioned again, and yet again Alexandria considered the amount of clout that the Accords had. Enough to guarantee civility between distrustful factions?
The Merlin did not wait for any acceptance or acknowledgment from those at the sequestered tables but instead turned his attention back to the greater body of the White Council.
"Quod minuta ultimum testimonii recepta atque exemplaria eorum memoriae nostrae sunt ultima placitum provisum, de qua comitate Secretarius Peabody, si modo loquor vidit modis in novissimo officialis propter nostram testimonii. Si non procedat ad motus potius proventus."
The Merlin continued to speak, his Latin distinct and clear, as he smoothly approved the minutes of the last minute and moved past them, all following the rote of procedure. Alexandria bit back a flash of amusement as she realized he was following Robert's Rules of Order. A parliamentary format, used almost ubiquitously throughout important meetings around the world, seemingly both in this world and her old one. She could find no real fault with following such, it had served her fairly well.
There were no rumbles of dissent, just a loud, "Motion seconded."
"Aye." The audience voted, in a smattering of different languages, all affirmative. A small, sharp smile graced the Merlin's face, almost completely hidden by his distinguished silver beard.
Alexandria automatically translated the following words the Merlin spoke into English, "Given the circumstances, I also move to dispense with the usual formalities in order to discuss a more pertinent issue, our war with the Red Court."
As he spoke, the Merlin's eyes first widened and then bulged slightly in anger, even if his irritation did not enter his voice.
Wizard Dresden had arrived. He was clad in a bathrobe, which looked even more absurd on account of the fluttering blue stole around his neck, hanging unevenly, one side a whole third-of-a-meter farther down his body than the other. He was unshaven and looked even worse than Alexandria's overcoat.
Alexandria resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. The White Court representative huffed under her breath, not sure whether to be scandalized or impressed, it seemed. The Jade Court representative just looked constipated.
"Consensum habemus?" The Merlin bit out, looking right at Dresden. Even so, the hall responded to his latin words, "All in favor?" with another general, "Aye."
In the loud awkward silence that followed, everyone could hear Dresden whisper loudly, "excuse me," as he shuffled past a blue-bearded wizard, with long black hair, and sat down beside an aging older wizard in a black robe with red stole.
"Magus Dresdenus," The Merlin admonished, before continuing to speak, "How thoughtful of you to join us in discussions of the war you started. It is good to know you have such respect for the Council."
The Merlin cast a knowing eye at Dresden's garb, before adding, "At least you have a stole, small mercies."
Dresden responded in halting and very bad Latin, words accented in a completely haphazard way, "I am sorry excuse, Merlin, a long sad day kept me. Me need better laundress."
The old wizard next to Dresden shook his head, the blue-bearded man next to him just blinked and looked at him as if he was an alien. Alexandria breathed in slightly, such were the perils of using a dead language.
Dresden went on to apologize or attempt a very bad apology, and Alexandria found herself sorely disappointed with Dresden. He had seemed to be at the very least competent, this wasn't very competent at all. In fact, he looked a little better than a moron.
Finally, Dresden whispered something to the old man next to him who nodded slightly, and stood smoothly, with a speed and dignity that belied his apparent age and delivered in crisp, perfect Latin, "Wizard Dresden apologizes for his conduct and appearance."
There was a brief murmur in the hall, and the expression on the Merlin could curdle milk, but he nodded, seeming temporarily mollified.
The Merlin spoke again, accepting the apology, acknowledging the speaker as Wizard McCoy, and then segued into a conversation on the death of Simon Pietrovich. Alexandria listened to this with interest. In no small part because of the mention of Archangel.
"It is fortunate then, that we have a survivor on hand, who can shed some light on this travesty," Ancient Mai murmured, but her voice still carried.
The Merlin nodded and called out, "Warden Baines, your report!"
Alexandria snapped her attention over to the doorway, as Baines stepped in, looking shaken. His grey cloak fluttered around him, and his face was still pale. The Warden that Luccio sent to accompany him and Dresden loomed behind him, hand still on his sword. Not in a threatening way, but more in a way that spoke of comfortable habit. He leaned slightly toward Baines, right before Baines entered, and whispered something quick into his ear.
Baines nodded and seemed to steel himself, straightening his shoulders and walking into the room, making his way toward the center dais. The Wardens around the room watched him intently, but none made to bar his passage.
He spoke in clear Latin, the faintest traces of another accent underlying it, "Honored Merlin and Council, I was not in Archangel when the wards fell, I only sought to close off the ways, as best I was able."
The crowd murmured. The Merlin paused a moment, "Be as it may, you must admit that it is suspicious that you survived and the wards were destroyed by someone with an intimate knowledge of their construction."
Baines swallowed, looking uncomfortable, and his eyes scanned the gathering. His face paled a shade paler as his eyes caught sight of her, over in the other tables.
The gaunt wizard behind the Merlin spoke then, his voice sharp, "Merlin, it is rather impossible that Baines did anything to the Wards, his talents do not lay in that area, rather in wayfinding."
The Merlin appeared to sigh, "Wizard LaFortier, your dedication to your apprentice is almost as great as Wizard McCoy's-"
"We should not discuss this with a Council position empty," La Fortier interrupted then, his expression dark. Something sharp glittered behind his eyes, as he turned the piece of parchment in his hands over and over. One of his hands, pale and with the long fingers of a pianist, drifted up to run a hand over his bald head.
The Merlin turned partially around, enough to glance at LaFortier before he turned back to the front with a frown.
"We will table this discussion then, Warden Baines take a seat," The Merlin responded curtly in Latin, his eyes finding Baines. Baines shuffled to the side and slipped into a metal folding chair. His eyes drifted across the room again, finding her. She turned slowly, just enough that he could see she acknowledged that she was there.
"I must request that Pierre Montjoy, as a long-standing member of significant renown, to take on responsibility as a Senior Council Member. All in favor?"
A venerable older man, whom the Merlin had eyed with triumph before, surged to his feet, "I refuse the nomination!"
His response was in English, and even though his voice croaked with age a strong tenor underlaid his words. A red stole rested around his black robes and numerous copper chevrons and a curious seal, unfamiliar to Alexandria, adorned it.
"You do?" The Merlin asked in Latin, appearing legitimately flabbergasted.
"My research into the Yucatán is of paramount importance, especially now that we finally offer war to the abominable anthropophages."
The Merlin grumbled, "Chichen Itza has sat undisturbed for centuries, there is no indication that we could gain anything of value by studying it, you know this Wizard Montjoy."
Montjoy frowned in turn beneath his impressive white beard, and finally, Alexandria placed his country of origin as he replied, he was Canadian.
"A miasma of dark magic still lingers over the temple there and the surrounding cenotes, an insight into the greater mystic workings of the Red Court is possible-"
"Very well," The Merlin cut Montjoy off, his eyes glancing toward the observer's section of the room, "Such a discussion is better left for another time, you refuse the nomination then?"
"I do," Montjoy replied, "I cannot in good conscience take such a position."
There was a pause, then, and the dark-skinned woman behind the Merlin murmured something indistinctly. Alexandria watched with interest as the Merlin's expression soured even further before he replied, addressing the room at large, "In accordance with the charter, we will offer the position to all wizards of appropriate seniority."
An aging Wizard identified by the Merlin as Peabody reached beneath his table and withdrew a raft of papers, and thumbed through them with ink-stained fingers. His thin, reedy voice, filled the room as he read off name after name. Wizard McCoy stood, but few others did.
Two declined, and the others were either absent, such as one Klaus Scheider, or occupied by what Alexandria surmised was code of some kind. After all, pyramid sitting was hardly a legitimate excuse. She concluded that it must be some kind of obfuscation on their hidden senior operatives, only spoken for formality's sake. It was a clever ruse if a little transparent in its intent. Of course, the possibility remained that they were legitimate, by why would they offer the locations of singular members, while at war, unless the binding oath was enough to guarantee no disclosure?
If so, that would be the most iron-clad non-disclosure agreement that she had ever seen. Truly, a worthy accomplishment.
"Do any other wizards wish to promote themselves for consideration over Wizard McCoy?" the Merlin finally asked as the ink-stained man, Peabody, concluded his recitation of the roster.
The hall was silent, a few of the White Council members looked at each other, weighing something. But they seemed to hold some kind of subtle respect for McCoy, who was the only man who remained standing.
This was the kind of person she was looking for, Alexandria concluded. A man outside of the current leadership who was ascending. Those in between transitions of power were always the most willing to listen to new ideas.
"Wizard McCoy, take your place upon the Senior Council."
Just after speaking the formal sounding words, Alexandria could see the Merlin's mouth moving with silent words that he did not speak out loud, a word of condemnation then, of irritation. Her skill in lip-reading allowed her to discern his words, "bloody colonials."
"Ah, an ascension to the Senior Council," The White Court blithered, her tone saccharine, "A rare treat."
Alexandria tilted her head just enough to regard her. Her expression froze, and she looked so much like a deer in the headlights. The words though, were valuable, even if the creature was irritating. Her tone seemed to indicate that she spoke truly and that meant that turnover in the Senior Council of the White Council was not usual. However, all of the members looked old, some positively ancient, such as Ancient Mai. Either they had all been young when they gained a position of seniority, or they possessed a way to extend their lives beyond their means.
Either option offered interesting information. For others, the prospect of immortality might be tantalizing, but for Alexandria, who had been living that reality, it was not nearly as captivating.
"Less talking, more doing," the newly appointed Wizard McCoy proclaimed to the hall in a strong voice, "There's a war on."
It was as much a challenge as anything. With several key words, McCoy had proclaimed his dissatisfaction with the current leadership and announced his intention to change things. Alexandria could see that the Merlin recognized exactly what McCoy had just accomplished as the wizards of the White Council in the audience nodded, heads bobbing.
"Precisely," the Merlin ground out, words biting, "what I was thinking. Let us address the war. Warden Morgan, would you please stand forward and give the Wardens' tactical assessment of the conflict?"
Alexandria turned her head slightly to track the motion as the aforementioned Warden, stalked his way toward the dais, his expression focused. His hand rested on his sword idly, and Alexandria noted the respect that glimmered across the faces of the White Council members that turned to look at him.
The Merlin ceded the center podium on the dais, as Morgan stepped up onto it, grey cloak swirling from the movement. The Merlin's intense blue eyes bore into him for a moment, before Warden Morgan offered a shallow, infinitesimally shallow, nod, and then turned to face the gathering.
In one hand he held a candle in the other a shard of crystal, the way the light refracted through it made her think emerald, his lips moved with silent words and then a hologram sprung forth, projecting a green holographic three-dimensional image of the Earth.
Alexandria permitted herself to lean forward, interested despite herself. The globe was misshapen, continents malformed, like archaic maps from ages past. For a moment, Alexandria wondered whether the Earth on this world was aberrant. There were some worlds that she had visited in which that was the case, others were barren, points of divergence long ago in forgotten epochs where life never flourished.
Still, it was a feat of note, especially since it didn't seem to be done with technology, but with the innate power of magic, and that was interesting. So far, the powers she had witnessed seemed to most ably lend themselves to feats of illusion, and this was further fuel for that theory.
Warden Morgan spoke, his Latin not nearly as polished, explaining the highlights, "-red spots on the map are the locations of-"
The red spots were where the Red Court had attacked, predominantly Europe, Western Europe but with fair dotting throughout the rest of Europe. Even with the distorted map of the world, Alexandria was able to pinpoint the spots on the spinning globe to points of interest on her mental map. Cities regarded as centers of culture or with long-standing roots to ancient institutions.
"Thank you, Warden," the Merlin interjected as Warden Morgan wrapped up his debriefing. Morgan deftly picked up the emerald and candle, backing away smoothly, glancing at the Merlin as he did so, before descending the podium. As he descended he snuffed the candle flame out with two fingers, making his way back toward the doorway.
"Warden Baines," The Merlin commanded, "As wayfinder, it was your duty to close the ways at Archangel."
Baines stood, looking a lot more composed and answered, again in Latin, "I succeeded in closing more than two-thirds of the ways, but failed to close all of them."
The Merlin frowned, "Grievous news, Warden Baines. Why did you fail in this singular duty entrusted to you?"
Baines swallowed, then answered, his voice hardening, "I was betrayed within my own sanctum, I do not know how the Red Court pierced the wards, they slipped through without me even knowing."
The Merlin regarded him for a moment, before LaFortier spoke, "These wards were the same ones that Simon Pietrovich wove? The ones layered over your family's wards?"
"Yes, Councilman LaFortier," Baines replied.
LaFortier frowned but did not say anything more.
"On that note," The Merlin replied, "We have the matter of the creature that helped you escape from the Red Court, Alexandria was it?"
Alexandria stood then, drawing the attention of the body of wizards toward her.
The Merlin turned slightly to regard her, Alexandria could see Ancient Mai whisper something to the Merlin, who spoke, "The Council recognizes observer 'Alexandria.'"
Unsaid was the question, 'Alexandria of-'?
She answered, the soft syllables of Ecclesiastical Latin spilling from her lips, each word perfectly accented. The time she had to devote to deciphering the linguistic drift in the convention so far was not enough to accurately discern the nuances. She did know perfect Latin, just not the Latin they were using. She deemed her mastery of the Ecclesiastical Latin sufficient.
"I freed Warden Baines from Winter, from the chains of the Red Court, and prevented him from appropriation by the Leanansidhe."
The Merlin regarded her for a moment, and Alexandria decided to namedrop, to see what sway Winter actually held over the proceedings, "The Queen of Winter directed me here, where the White Council could repay its debt for the rescue of one of its members."
Ancient Mai's attention sharpened, and she looked up from her podium. Her eyes climbed up to meet Alexandria, and there was consideration and wariness in her gaze. For all that her eyes were clouded and rheumy, her attention was sharp, like a honed blade. The White Court stiffened in her seat, and her eyes drifted back to her previous seat, evidentially rethinking her decision to sit at the table.
The Middle-Eastern man turned toward her then, brown eye narrowing, his lips twitched as if he was saying something but none of the others reacted. He frowned, a severe expression on a severe face.
The Merlin nodded, "The debt to Alexandria, owed by the White Council will be noted, with a simple motion. As an institution, we gain the right to stipulate if any repayment is deemed to be too egregious."
Ancient Mai spoke then, sharp words, for all that her voice croaked with age, "You claim to not be of Winter's get, yet use the title of the Winter Queen with familiarity."
Alexandria measured her response. It would be foolish to admit to being reborn, in body or spirit after her death. Just as it would be unwise to draw attention to the fact that she was from another world, especially if they had contact with other worlds as disastrous as Bet's own contact with Aleph or Shin.
"I have accomplished tasks for Winter before," she answered, thinking of both stopping the Red Court trespassers and somehow revealing the complicity of the Leanansidhe to the Winter Queen. That was not to mention her services to the little pixie, sequestered away with a nickel within her pocket.
"I stand against the Red Court," offered Alexandria, "My goals stand in opposition to all that seek the destruction of humanity."
It was a grandiose statement, one that she had made before at various public relations events, especially in the early years of the Endbringers, when the public needed the assurance of a stalwart defender. It was also the creed of Cauldron and it had always morbidly amused her to utter it openly, the guiding pathos behind all her deeds in life. The triumph of humanity over all obstacles, no matter the price, no matter how many bodies she needed to climb over. It was a grim amusement that led her to utter it here.
The Merlin seemed distracted for a moment, glancing toward Ancient Mai, who shook her head. Alexandria recognized the dismissal for what it was, and sat down, not discomfited in the least. He turned back around, and answered, even though Alexandria could detect some doubt in his voice, "The matter of debt can be settled later, let us continue. Ancient Mai?"
Ancient Mai unfurled a letter with her withered hands, holding it lightly for a moment, speaking before she began reading, "From Summer, we received this answer: "Queen Titania does not now, nor will she ever choose sides in the disputes of mortal and anthropophage. She bids both Council and Court alike to keep their war well away from the realms of Summer. She will remain neutral."
The Merlin's hand twitched but he restrained himself from saying anything, allowing McCoy to interject boldly, "And Winter?"
Ancient Mai let just the slightest frown grace her porcelain perfect features and then responded, implying irritation but not actually voicing it. Even Alexandria could admit that was so as Ancient Mai said, "Our courier has not returned. Upon consulting records of former conflicts, we may confidently assume that Queen Mab will involve herself, if at all, in a time and manner of her own choosing."
Alexandria's attention was drawn to Dresden as he set a pitcher of water down with a loud smack, which seemed to echo in the silence of the room. His hand shook slightly, a bandage twined around, staining with red on the palm as he raised his hand to drink.
McCoy scowled and responded, and was answered in turn by the Merlin, but Alexandria's attention remained focused on Dresden, as did the attention of a number of others. It was clear that Dresden knew something, and that something likely had to do with the Winter Queen. How curious, the Winter Queen was insidious indeed, her web was broad, enough to make hundreds dance to her tune.
The Senior Council bickered, as Dresden seemed to debate with himself. Only the Middle-Eastern man and LaFortier seemed focused on Dresden out of the Senior Council.
"Don't be a fool," The dark-skinned woman said sharply, tone like a knife, "They will never sue for peace."
"They already have, Wizard LaFortier, if you would," The Merlin replied, satisfaction coloring his tone smugly.
"Thank you Merlin," LaFortier replied, his voice smoother and more controlled than before, going on to explain how he had a missive from a Red Court noble suing for peace, and an armistice effective that very morning.
An exclamation burst from Dresden's mouth, causing the blue bearded man next to him to jump in his seat. Nearly the entire assembly turned their attention toward Dresden who hurried to explain exactly what his exclamation of 'Bullshit!' meant.
Baines stood next, right on the heels of the explanation, "Honorable Merlin, and Council, I must remind you that this very day I was held captive by the Red Court."
The Merlin frowned, and offered, "You were held captive by what you thought were Red Court, that remains inconclusive."
"The thralls aren't evidence enough, are they?" Dresden interjected then, tone quite caustic. Both LaFortier and the Merlin frowned at him, ignoring and dismissing Baines's words.
LaFortier proceeded to publicly chastise Dresden and Alexandria caught a fair number of the wizards frowning in turn. She watched with interest as LaFortier explained the Red Court's demands.
"Me?" Dresden replied.
The assembly rose in outrage, and the situation devolved. Alexandria leaned back in her seat, watching intently. Both the Court representatives next to her became increasingly uncomfortable the longer the outrage grew. The blonde in particular seemed on edge, her fingers taping a delicate staccato on the table's surface.
It appeared that the Council was torn on whether to hand over the Wizard Dresden, but he had supporters. It seemed the decision had some justification. Except for the idiom never to negotiate with terrorists, in this case, vampires. Alexandria did not consider agreeing to peace with the Red Court to be the winning move.
She stood, and murmured, making her way out of the hall, "I have seen enough."
AN: Tried to keep it from rehashing canon and set up the plot threads sufficiently, let's see if I managed.