Beneath the flood of moonlight, a figure in white robes could be seen reclining on one of the plush chaise lounges artfully strewn on the balcony leading out from the central boardroom of the Sultan’s palace. From beyond the ornate double doors, faint murmurs could still be heard from the meeting plodding on in his absence. To the casual observer, it would have seemed as if the Archmage was in deep slumber, his youthful face, all but untouched by the last decade, the very picture of carefree serenity. A closer look however would have revealed the subtle signs of a person ill at ease. Long, pale eyelashes fluttered restlessly against eyelids tightly shut, and if one watched long enough, slender fingers could be seen to occasionally card through unkempt flaxen hair in frustration. Beneath the tranquil façade, Lu Han’s thoughts swirled in a violent vortex.

To say that the talks were not progressing well would be an understatement. Already a week Lu Han had been loitering in the Capital, participating in intense deliberations, and still no consensus was in sight. As yet, only a handful of rational beings were willing to accept the ugly truth of recent events.

Just then, the steady background droning came to a halt. The day’s meeting had ended at last. Lu Han was alerted to the presence of approaching company by the muffled sound of footfalls drawing nearer and a slight breeze that ruffled his hair as the double doors came to a noiseless open and close. Moments later, a melodious voice, reminiscent of the tinkling of wind chimes, drifted towards Lu Han. “Lord Han.”

Opening his eyes, Lu Han gracefully rose from his seat and inclined his head in greeting towards the two newcomers as they stepped into the moonlight. The courteous gesture was graciously reciprocated by the first, a slight male with a lovely face, lustrous skin framed by dark locks. However, Lu Han received only a curt nod in reply from the other, a tall, brooding man whose chiseled features were currently set in a stony expression.

“Your presence was sorely missed,” the dulcet voice continued. The speaker was none other than Suho, Archmage of the Order of Water, infamous amongst mages for his angelic looks and sweet temperament that belied his formidable powers. Many a fool coveting his position had taken him lightly, only to belatedly realise their fatal mistake. As the midwives’ tale went, the last mage to challenge him had ended up trapped in an underwater prison for all eternity, the poor wretch.

Behind Suho towered the belligerent and irreverent Lord Yifan, Archmage of the Order of the Wind. The man cut an imposing figure, one matched by an impressive repertoire of accomplishments. Yifan was the only mage in recorded history to have mastered the art of sustained flight without the aid of any magical artifact. Lu Han himself, despite his complete mastery of telekinesis could only manage short, periodic spurts of levitation.

"Lord Suho, Lord Yifan. Pardon my early retirement, but I was in grave need of some fresh air.”

“Please,” Yifan began, dismissing his apology with a careless wave of his hand. “That is perfectly understandable. I myself was beginning to feel suffocated by the sheer stupidity of those old codgers that call themselves our Elders. Are we positive that it was not them who were taken and replaced by changelings?”

"Lord Yifan!” Suho chided. “You would do well to curb your tongue,” he clucked, his reproachful tone suggesting stern disapproval of Yifan’s derisive words. However, the small quirk of the corners of his lips and the amused glint in his hazel eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"It is a pity Magistrate Do could not join us," Suho resumed, referring to the absent Archmage of the Order of Earth. "But his responsibilities to his people must come first. After all, it was his city that suffered the brunt of the attacks. Once a place of wonders, Silla is a house of horrors, now."

"Indeed. That little runt would surely have knocked some sense into their thick skulls. One taste of his iron fist and they'd be agreeable to any plan we proposed.”

Privately, Lu Han thought it was a damn good thing that the diminutive Do Kyungsoo was not present to hear Yifan describe him thus. However, it seemed like the other Archmages were awaiting his thoughts on the matter, so Lu Han decided to dispense with the pleasantries and speak his mind. "Seeking Lord Kyungsoo’s counsel is all well and good, but in the meantime, what are we to do? We cannot afford to bury our heads in the sand and pray for things to resolve themselves.”

Yifan nodded in agreement. "Lord Han is right. ‘Way I see it, there is only one option. The others are either too brainless or to toothless to be of any assistance to us."

"These are dark times indeed,” Suho chuckled, “because for once I agree with Lord Yifan. It seems in this, we are one. The time for political niceties is over. With or without blessing, we must take matters into our own hands."

Exchanging a last meaningful glance with the two other men, Lord Suho bid them a good night’s rest and swiftly turned to exit through the double doors. The reason for his speedy departure soon became apparent. Not a few seconds had passed when the doors flew open, revealing a mousy looking man with beady black eyes. Lu Han quickly placed him as one of the scribes tasked with recording the minutes of their meetings. Curiously, the man did not seem taken aback at the sight of the two Archmages, but rather paused to rake his eyes over their forms before finally muttering an unintelligible apology and scurrying from the balcony.  

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