Chapter Text
The World is Listening to You, My Friend
“Rule #35 - Microphone” - Rule #35 - Microphone - Single - Fish in a Birdcage
“And with the twang of this bowstring, may the Council commence.” Neatly sweeping the crossbow away into the void of their cloak, X’s helmet scanned the long table of their fellow rulers. The myriad of faces showed mostly polite confusion and middling interest.
“This is a strange Council I have called, and I do thank you for making the trek out to Dragon’s Spine for the occasion. As I hope you all know, today marks the tenth anniversary since this current Ninth Generation of rulers completed their assumption of the Thrones and Crowns of the First Horizon. Beginning with you, Lord Bee Double Oh—“ they gestured to the faerie lord in his cloak of moss “—and ending with the arrival of you, Sitter Grian Sunset—“ the other gauntlet acknowledged the tricolor parrot “—and as the old records say, such an anniversary must be commemorated.”
The High Priestess Pearl Moon raised a hand, speaking once X had nodded. “We have never had to do such a thing before, Commander. But given your… experience, should I assume that you have a plan?”
“Indeed, Mother Pearl. My memory isn’t exceptionally long, but that of the Cranial Library is. The anniversary records of the past generations of rulers are simple and straightforward: the story of each ruler is told, first by the ruler themself as exactly as they can remember it, then by the records held by said ruler, and then by the people of their civilization. Of course, nations have come and gone, and in this instance, I raise a prayer on Dragon’s bones and Wither’s bane to the eighth ruler of Geyser Heights, gone but not forgotten. Good fortune to you, whoever you were, and whoever you are now.”
The chorus of “good fortune”, normally a cheery farewell or toast, was uncharacteristically somber. All present knew, whether by witness or by reading, of the tragedy that was the Evaporation Disaster. After a moment, X continued.
“But this Council is for the living and the present, so I should ask that we begin the recording and retelling of our history. Lord Bee Double, I believe you were the first of the ninth generation. If you might take this place?” They got up, gesturing at the chair they had vacated.
Bee nodded. “Aye, Commander.”
The Lord of Livingstone, though small in body to the point that his wide grinning wings seemed to comically dwarf him, still carried the air of a ruler as he and his cloak of living moss rustled to the head of the table. The thin symbolic diadem of raw iron on his brow glinted in the light of the roaring fire behind him, and, nodding to Wels Knight at his post by the door, sat down.