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The chamber was vast and tall, perfectly cubical in dimensions, with the walls in shades of brown and red, and the floors all grey and gold. Many seats filled the room, occupied by men and women robed in sleek, gleaming clothes and accessories.
An elevated platform at one side clearly denoted who was in charge here, with one long table and three opulent chairs with those sitting in them dressed in mostly black with accents of red, uniform outfits yet with personal touches. And each carried an identical necklace, a round device hanging from the cords around their necks.
Although at the moment, all heads were turned to a lone figure standing near the middle of the room, only just finishing his speech.
The man was among the younger ones in the room, no more than in his mid-thirties, and with his head held high, his eyes sharp and serious as they slid around the room only to rest on the three people on the podium, he spoke the last of his thoughts. With a brief bow to the two women and one man, he reclaimed his seat. Low murmurs broke out in several places, discussing his words, but all fell silent as one of the women at the head of the room stood up to speak, voice sharp and regal in its address:
“Thank you for your observations, councillor Tihocan, the Triumvirate will take them into consideration.” She sat down, perfectly poised, and waited, her blue eyes scanning the assembly.
The woman to her right, old and wizened, with her mouth pulled into a frown that seemed permanently etched into her face, coughed with a slight rasp.
On the very right, the lone man of the Triumvirate inclined his head to the side. That way he could see the occupants of the left side of the room with his good eye, rather than just the mechanical one, which glowed green on his prosthetics-covered face. As the silence persisted, he stood up, or rather was pulled up by the mechanical legs attached to his body, and spoke in a voice low and monotone as it emanated from the device affixed to his throat and mouth:
“If there is no more to be said at this time, then let us be on our way.” With that, he lowered himself again, and the aged woman carefully, shakily stood up next, a cane grasped in her right hand.
“The Triumvirate thanks you for your continuing service to the great land of Atlantis,” she said slowly, her voice scratchy and dry like the desert sand. “The council meeting has now been concluded.” Her co-rulers stood up again and all three made their way towards the doors behind them, while the councillors waited respectfully for their rulers' departure.
Once in the privacy of the hallway behind the council chamber, the youngest of the three exhaled in relief, turning to the other queen and the king as they walked slowly: “Thank all gods high and low the meeting is over. Why were many of their speeches so inane?”
“Is it not the way it always is, Natla?” the man responded, his voice betraying his tiredness. “But not all of the speeches, thankfully.”
“Yes, Qualopec, some had merit,” the older queen rasped. Then her permanent frown deepened into a scowl. “Others were outrageous.”
“Outrageous?” Qualopec inquired politely. “Which do you mean, Hetri?”
Hetri scoffed. “Which one could I ever! Councillor Tihocan is shameless and should remember who he is speaking to.”
Natla locked eyes with Qualopec over Hetri's head for the briefest moment, neither of them expressing surprise at the statement. Then the younger queen hummed in thought, tapping her chin. “Quite opinionated, isn't he?”
Qualopec shrugged the best way he could with his body being carried by a metal construction. “It is not wrong of him to speak his mind, as any councillor should.”
“His mind!” Hetri spit. She stopped her slow walk entirely, tapping her cane on the floor in anger. “His mind is full of ants and sawdust! He would do away with our sacred Atlantean traditions if given half the chance!”
“He is proposing several reforms, some quite unheard of…” Natla allowed, flicking her hand.
The sound Hetri made was almost a hiss, if the snake producing it was hoarse. “Unheard of for a good reason! Such preposterous-” She was interrupted by a coughing fit. Qualopec and Natla waited for the first few coughs, but as they didn't seem to be stopping and Hetri had bent forward, grasping her cane desperately to stay on her feet, Qualopec lowered himself so he could hold her by one shoulder and support her weight.
“Hetri, are you well?” he asked in worry.
Natla continued watching rather dispassionately, then sighed without making a sound and unclipped a device from her waist, speaking to it in an almost bored monotone. “Fetch healer Parile to the Royal Council Chamber Corridor.” Then she turned to Hetri, whose fit mostly died down by now, but who was still on her feet only thanks to both of Qualopec's hands holding her up. “I'm sure Parile will be here quick, he knows not to stray too far from you these days.”
If it was supposed to be comforting, it didn't sound so, but Hetri managed nothing more than a tired nod, while Qualopec threw Natla a look of silent rebuke. She responded with a single blink, feigning ignorance.
The hasty steps of another person indeed reached their ears in quite a short while, and soon they could see a middle aged man with a harried expression directing a motorized wheelchair towards them.
“Queen Hetri!” he exclaimed and sped up even more, reaching them swiftly. “What had happened?”
“Simply a coughing fit, or so it seems,” Qualopec explained as he helped the queen in the chair.
“I see,” the healer's frown deepened. “Thank you, King Qualopec. Queen Natla,” he quickly bowed to them both and hurried down the hallway with his patient.
The two rulers were left standing there in silence, Qualopec once again raising himself on his metal legs to his unnatural height, and they stayed for a bit, looking the way the older queen disappeared.
“Hetri is going to croak any day now,” Natla spoke up at last.
Qualopec narrowed his eye at her, exasperated. “Speak with respect about your fellow rulers!” Natla didn't respond, just continued staring patiently down the hallway, until Qualopec sighed. “But you are not incorrect.” He didn't sound particularly sad at the notion, and the two finally resumed their walk.
“Then elections are upon us,” Natla stated conversationally. “The people shall choose our new co-ruler.”
Qualopec nodded. “As it has always been. As you were elected three years ago.”
Natla made a sound of agreement, appearing as if it thought. “And current rulers are forbidden to influence those who would cast their vote.” She posed it as a question, despite them both knowing the answer without any doubt.
Qualopec humoured her nevertheless. “Indeed. If you or I hold any preferences as to who we would see as our new co-ruler, we must not make them known, neither publicly nor covertly, so as not to mould anyone's opinion.”
Natla nodded, her expression solemn. “We may only wait and let the people choose the one they deem the most fitting.”
Qualopec kept his voice just as calm and even. “That is the way it is.”
They walked in silence for a short while.
“We shall make Tihocan a king,” Natla announced with total conviction.
Her words barely left her mouth. “Absolutely,” Qualopec responded.