The council chamber, tucked away in a sturdy, unassuming building adjacent to the now-massive, boisterous Feast Hall, felt smaller than usual today, the air thick with unspoken tensions, residual fear from Thorsten's report, and the faint, lingering scent of Kelzryn's otherworldly presence—aether, ancient stone, and something indefinably other.

Rough-hewn Ebonwood timbers formed the walls, absorbing the sound, making voices seem both intimate and strangely muffled. Maps depicting the valley, its expanding network of tunnels, and the newly established trade routes east and west were tacked haphazardly beside official decrees sealed with Ebonheim's simple, elegant leaf sigil.

A long, heavily scarred table dominated the room, its dark surface reflecting the flickering, slightly unstable light from the wall-mounted glow-globes provided, somewhat reluctantly, by the Artificers' guilds.

Ebonheim sat at the head of the table, the elegant scroll presented by Xellos lying open before her like a coiled serpent, its perfect, flowing script seeming almost mocking in its precision against the rougher textures of the chamber.

Around the table sat the core of Ebonheim's diverse, often contentious, leadership: Engin Meric, his face etched with a familiar, bone-deep weariness, his hands clasped tightly before him; Hilda, her eyes closed as if listening not to their words, but to the troubled currents of the earth beneath them; Bjorn and Thorsten, their massive warrior's stillness a stark, almost intimidating contrast to Roderick Sedley's restless energy as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the tabletop, the rhythmic tapping echoing slightly.

Evelyne and Orin represented the Artificer guilds, seated strategically opposite each other, a subtle tension, a spark of old rivalry mixed with new shared concerns, still present between them.

Brevin Stoneshield sat stiffly, his face grim as the mountain stone he worked, his gaze fixed on the scroll.

Lorne Miradan, commander of the Silverguards, observed the proceedings with his usual quiet, assessing intensity, his posture relaxed but alert.

Argoran, Pridelord of the Aslankoyash, leaned back in his reinforced chair, arms crossed over his powerful chest, his golden feline eyes narrowed in shrewd contemplation, while his daughter Serrandyl perched beside him, radiating a barely contained impatience, her tail twitching slightly beneath the table.

Kelzryn stood, as always, slightly apart from the mortals, a silent observer near the cold hearth, his presence an undeniable weight, a point of ancient power in the room.

Ebonheim took a slow breath, the scent of old wood, drying ink, nervous sweat, and worried mortals filling her senses. "You've all had time now to review the proposal brought by Xellos." She gestured towards the scroll, its elegance feeling out of place. "The 'Eldergrove Defense Pact', as he calls it."

A collective grunt, skeptical and low, rippled around the table. It was the sound of experienced leaders smelling a trap.

"He presents it as an offer of mutual security, of shared prosperity," Ebonheim continued, deliberately keeping her voice carefully neutral, wanting their unvarnished opinions first, needing their collective wisdom to counter Xellos's silken persuasion. "Joint patrols, shared resources like the Vespera, collaborative research between the guilds, valley-wide defensive wards..."

Roderick snorted, cutting her off before she could finish, his patience clearly exhausted by diplomatic niceties.

"Shared? Hah! Shared like a starved wolf shares a fresh carcass with a flock of circling vultures, maybe!"

He slammed a surprisingly forceful hand flat on the table, making the ink pots jump and Evelyne flinch slightly.

"Did you read those clauses on Vespera allocation closely, Engin? 'Based on proximity of tunnel entrance and demonstrable excavation effort'? Their tunnel breached ours near the richest part of the deposit after Brevin's lads had already found it and started working it! Proximity means nothing when they broke through practically on top of us! And 'excavation effort' means they get rewarded for digging aggressively, maybe even recklessly, straight into our established claim!"

Brevin nodded grimly, his knuckles white where he gripped the table edge, his voice rough with contained anger.

"Aye. Roderick speaks true. And the 'instability' they conveniently blame on natural forces, suggesting our digging disturbed things? Lilin's readings confirmed it originates from their side of the breach, centered on their tunnel. Along with that unnatural, bone-chilling cold." His gaze was hard. "This pact gives them justification on parchment to claim the richest parts of the vein, citing 'efficiency' and 'pre-existing Corinthian workings'."

"It's the same game he played at Three-Rivers," Roderick added sharply, resuming his restless pacing behind his chair. "The trade manipulation already showed his hand clearly enough for anyone not blinded by wishful thinking. Depressing our prices with false claims, inflating his own with talk of runes and blessings, all under the guise of 'fair regulation'. This pact just formalizes the economic warfare, wraps it in pretty ribbons, and gives him direct control over our most valuable new resource!"

Engin held up a hand, his expression weary but firm, silencing Roderick's tirade before it could fully ignite. "The economic implications are indeed troubling, Roderick, and your points are well taken. But look deeper."

He tapped a section of the scroll with a blunt finger, his voice low but carrying. "These research protocols. 'Mandatory sharing of all findings related to arcane energy manipulation, planar studies, and ancient Magitech artifacts.'"

The implication hung heavy, almost suffocating, in the air.

Cepheid. The ancient Aetherframe bound to Ebonheim, a power even she didn't fully understand, a relic of the very Magitech users Xellos seemed disturbingly interested in. Ebonheim felt a protective clench deep in her core, an instinct to shield her secrets.

Orin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. "From a purely scientific, objective standpoint, Engin," he began, his voice holding its usual precise, academic tone, though perhaps a touch less confident than usual, "collaboration could accelerate progress significantly. Combining Les Artisanats' proven design expertise with my Enclave's focus on advanced energy systems and theoretical modeling... the potential for breakthroughs in defensive warding technology, stable energy conduits..."

He saw the potential, the undeniable lure of shared knowledge, the chance to leapfrog generations of research, even if the partner was… problematic.

Evelyne countered immediately, her voice sharp as newly honed steel, cutting through Orin's theoretical enthusiasm.

"Potential at what cost, Orin? Sharing all findings? Every schematic? Every experimental result? With an oversight committee heavily weighted towards Corinth members citing 'project management expertise'? That's not collaboration; that's intellectual theft gift-wrapped as partnership!"

Her eyes flashed towards Ebonheim, conveying fierce loyalty and distrust of the proposal's architect. "Ancient Magitech, artifacts like Cepheid, are not toys or bargaining chips to be shared lightly, especially not with... him."

"But the defensive wards, Evelyne!" Orin argued, though his conviction seemed to waver under her glare. "A valley-wide shield... think of the security! Against Asura incursions, against whatever crawled out of that mine near the Vespera vein..."

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"A shield built on potentially compromised foundations is worse than no shield at all," Lorne Miradan interjected quietly, his voice calm but carrying the weight of hard-won battlefield experience. He pointed a scarred finger to another clause further down the scroll.

"The joint command structure for patrols. Rotating leadership seems fair on the surface, yes, until you reach the addendum regarding 'valley-wide emergency situations'. It states: 'In declared emergencies impacting the security of both domains, final tactical authority is granted to the designated Corinthian field commander to ensure swift, unified response'."

He looked slowly around the table, meeting each person's eye.

"Who declares the emergency? By what criteria? That single clause grants Xellos, through his appointed commander, potential military control over our forces, our military, our Silverguards, within our own valley in any situation he or his council conveniently deems an emergency."

Thorsten slammed a massive fist onto the table, making the wood groan in protest and the glow-globes flicker wildly.

"Aye! That's the viper's fang hidden in the leaves! Give a snake like Xellos an inch, he'll swallow the whole damned farm! Rotating command between trusted allies is one thing, but giving the final say, the life-and-death decision in a crisis, to his man? In our valley? Never! I'd sooner face down a legion of Asura bare-handed!"

"It stinks worse than week-old boar gut left in the sun," Bjorn agreed gruffly, his hand resting on the worn pommel of the sword at his hip. "No Hrafnsteinn warrior worth his salt follows orders from a grey-tuniced Corinthian whose ultimate loyalty lies with a god we don't know, don't trust, and who seems intent on undermining us at every turn."

Argoran rumbled his agreement, the sound deep in his chest like distant thunder.

"The Aslankoyash," he stated, his voice carrying the weight of his Pridelord authority, "bow to Ebonheim, who offered us sanctuary when others turned away. We respect our neighbors, share the hunt when fair. We share command of our warriors with those whose hearts we do not know? Never."

Serrandyl leaned forward, her eyes narrowed, sharp as her claws. "And what about these 'shared patrols' in the deep mines? Near where those things came skittering out? Sounds like a fine way for Corinth to get official eyes on our deepest workings, map our veins, maybe even 'accidentally' open another breach while 'patrolling for threats'."

Hilda, who had remained silent throughout the heated exchange, her eyes closed as if listening to the troubled heart of the valley itself, finally spoke. Her voice was soft but resonant, like wind whispering through ancient pines, cutting through the anger.

"There is a harmony to this valley now, fragile perhaps, like new spring growth after a hard winter, but growing stronger since Ebonheim's arrival. Corinth... Corinth feels discordant. Its energy is wrong."

She opened her eyes, deep wells of forest green knowledge and timeless patience. "Its order is too rigid, too brittle. Its growth feels too swift, too unnatural. Its people's devotion... it is too uniform, too placid. Like a field where only one type of crop is allowed to grow, choking out all the wild, necessary diversity."

She looked directly at Ebonheim, her gaze filled with gentle warning. "This pact, Goddess... it feels like planting their sterile, ordered seeds in our fertile, chaotic ground. It risks upsetting the delicate balance we have worked so hard, for so long, to achieve."

Ebonheim listened, absorbing the near-unanimous distrust, the specific, well-founded objections, the visceral reactions ranging from Roderick's calculated anger to Hilda's intuitive unease.

They saw the barbs hidden beneath the scroll's elegant script just as clearly, perhaps even more clearly through the lens of their varied experiences, as she and Kelzryn had.

Yet, the surface appeal, the promise whispered by Xellos, remained, a tempting illusion of safety in an uncertain world. Security. Cooperation. An end to friction.

"So," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm, drawing all eyes back to her, the flickering light reflecting in her golden irises. "The consensus seems clear. The risks outlined in this proposal—the potential loss of control over our vital resources like Vespera, the compromising of sensitive research and ancient knowledge, the surrender of tactical authority over our own defenses—they far outweigh the promised, perhaps illusory, benefits."

A collective sigh, almost inaudible but deeply felt, seemed to whisper through the room, releasing some of the tightly held tension.

"But," Ebonheim continued, holding up a hand as Roderick opened his mouth, likely to demand immediate and forceful rejection, "we cannot simply dismiss Corinth or Xellos outright. He is our neighbor, like it or not. His domain grows, fed by settlers seeking refuge just as ours is, and his influence, however unsettling we find its nature, is undeniably real. Outright rejection without offering any path forward, without even the pretense of seeking common ground, might be interpreted as hostility. It might provoke the very conflict, the very instability, we seek to avoid."

Engin nodded slowly, understanding the delicate political dance required. "A measured response is needed, then. Not outright refusal, but... careful negotiation. We acknowledge his proposal, appreciate the stated sentiment of cooperation..."

"...while politely, but firmly, pointing out the specific clauses that are fundamentally unacceptable to Ebonheim's sovereignty, security, and the well-being of our diverse people," Roderick finished, catching Engin's drift, the merchant's mind already shifting from outrage to strategy. "We propose revisions. Significant, non-negotiable revisions."

"Exactly," Ebonheim agreed, feeling the path forward clarify. "We can express willingness to cooperate on specific, clearly defined matters of immediate mutual security—perhaps sharing verified early warnings from patrols regarding external threats, coordinating efforts to fully understand and permanently seal the known breach point in the mines, under joint supervision with strictly equal authority and transparent data sharing."

"And the research collaboration?" Orin asked, still clearly tempted by the prospect of shared knowledge, even as Evelyne shot him a warning glance.

"Perhaps extremely limited, project-specific collaboration on defensive measures only," Evelyne suggested carefully, glancing towards Ebonheim for approval, finding a balance between caution and Orin's ambition. "Sharing findings only on mutually agreed-upon defensive technologies, like improved warding techniques, with ironclad protocols protecting all proprietary guild knowledge and especially safeguarding any research related to ancient artifacts."

Ebonheim gave a subtle, approving nod.

"No sharing of sensitive Magitech data, particularly concerning Cepheid, and absolutely no access to Th'maine's work," Engin stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for compromise on that point. "That knowledge is too dangerous, too fundamental, to risk."

"And the Vespera?" Brevin asked, his voice rough, grounding the discussion back in the earth.

"Must be managed by a truly joint council, with equal representation from both settlements," Ebonheim declared, meeting Brevin's gaze. "Mining rights determined by independent geological survey confirming the vein's actual path and extent within each territory, not by proximity to whichever tunnel happened to breach first or dubious claims of divine guidance."

"And absolutely, under no circumstances, any clause granting emergency tactical authority to a Corinthian commander on Ebonheim soil or involving Ebonheim forces," Lorne added, his voice clipped, precise, the soldier identifying the most critical strategic vulnerability.

"So, we send back a counter-proposal," Engin summarized, looking around the table, seeing nods of agreement, even from the initially hesitant Orin. "One that emphasizes genuine cooperation on our terms, focused on immediate, verifiable threats like the mine instability and shared border security, while firmly, unequivocally rejecting any clauses that compromise our autonomy, our security, or the integrity of our knowledge and resources."

"It shows willingness to engage," Hilda approved softly, her eyes finally closing again, a measure of peace returning to her expression. "But draws clear, uncrossable boundaries in the earth."

"He won't like it," Thorsten grumbled, though a grim satisfaction settled on his features. "Too much backbone in it for his slippery taste. He wants capitulation, not partnership."

"Let him dislike it," Roderick said, a touch of defiance entering his tone. "It puts the ball squarely back in his court. Forces him to show his true colors—whether he genuinely desires cooperation for mutual benefit, or simply seeks control through manipulation."

Ebonheim looked around the table again, at the determined, united faces of her council, her friends, her protectors.

They were wary, yes, deeply concerned, but not afraid. They saw the danger Xellos represented, but were ready to meet it with wisdom, strength, and a clear understanding of what they would, and would not, compromise.

"Then it is decided," she said, a sense of clarity, of rightness, settling over her, pushing back the earlier unease. "Roderick, Engin, draft the response. Emphasize safety, mutual respect, and the inviolability of our borders and knowledge. We will offer cooperation, true cooperation between equals, but we will not be caged, however beautifully gilded the bars Xellos offers."

Kelzryn, silent until now in his shadowed corner, gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, the azure light in the fissures of his skin pulsing once, with quiet, ancient approval.

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