Even after he had washed the blood from his hands, James still felt the stain on them. This was different from killing that warlord’s son in anger. That had felt justified, personal. This made him feel a bit sick. He picked at his food without tasting it.

There were disciples training in the courtyard beneath him, an elf-assassin squaring off against… a dwarven mage? The elf leapt gracefully into the air, twin blades flashing in the afternoon sun, twisting its lithe body around to land behind the dwarf. But the dwarf was prepared, raising a wall of stone to protect its back. The elf cursed as its blades skittered across brown stone, but there was no malice in it. 

How strange, that species he had always thought were natural enemies, could clasp hands and share a laugh. 

Across the courtyard, a minotaur let out a roar and charged at a diminutive goblin, who nimbly dodged out of the way to rake its claws across the minotaur’s ankles. Which faded to tiny scratches almost instantly. And the goblin had also disappeared, only to reappear behind the minotaur again. Again and again, the minotaur weathered the goblin’s attacks, without landing one itself.

What would it be like, to have a power like that? Speed, magic, durability… the possibilities were endless. Unbidden, the memory of the night before arose in his mind. He envisioned the scene of his sister on the ground, felt the rage building in him, the burning in his fists. Try as he might, he could not return to that state, and his fists remained as human as they always were. 

At that moment, Master Erebus appeared in front of him. The Elder hadn’t teleported, since there was no flash of light, but he had been dead silent on approach. The disciples sparring in the courtyard immediately sprung apart and stood stock-still, inclining their heads. The Elder cast an amused glance towards them, before addressing James.

“Come. The Council wishes to speak to you.”

James stood to follow, hearing a command, though it was worded as a request. As they swept past the disciples, James outright heard the minotaur whimper in fear, its massive muscles quavering. Was this Elder truly so terrifying? 

As they walked, James saw every disciple they passed either shrink back in fear or keep their eyes glued to their toes. Not one dared to speak in the Elder’s presence. Did all the Elders inspire such fear?

Apparently not. They approached a group within the main temple, white marble pillars all around them. Each member of the group was radiating power and assurance. There was a disciple speaking with an elf, smiling all the while. Who froze the moment they saw Master Erebus, running away as soon as the elven Elder let them go.

“Must you terrify them so, my dear?” an older woman asked.

“I cannot go against my nature.”

The assembled Elders laughed. Belatedly, James realized that Master Erebus had been telling a joke.

The woman turned her attention towards James. “And how has our dear Hound been treating you, darling?”

“I- well enough, I guess,” James shrugged. “I’ve only been here a day, anyway.”

“Kids seem to like puppies, eh?” a big orc snorted.

Master Erebus materialized a knife, and the orc grinned with all its teeth. Big, ivory tusks curled out from its lower jaw, glittering more menacingly than the knife. 

“Settle down,” an elf sighed. “We all have projects we’d like to get back to, so the sooner we are done with this, the better.”

“Shut up, Vee. We’re waiting for Master to get here,” another human snapped, idly twirling a staff in their hands. 

James’ mind spun. This was the legendary Council of Elders? James had expected more… seriousness, at least. The Elders squabbled among themselves until a presence entered the room that had them all quiet down.

“Ah, James,” a voice said, from somewhere behind him. It sounded old but strong, likening as to the great oaks of the forest. “I see you have been down to the dungeons, already.”

“Yes, sir.” He did not dare turn around. The memory of the dagger lodged in the man’s neck came to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh, dear,” a goblin tittered. “He’s been made to execute someone already.”

The person behind him swept around him in a flurry of white robes to look him in the eye. The Elder had a kind-looking face, with eyes that glittered with untold wisdom, and a long, white beard that gave him a grandfatherly look. He was old in a timeless sense, not quite weathered, but looking like he had seen the rise and fall of countless empires. His features were human, but no matter how hard James tried to puzzle it out, everything seemed to verge on uncanny. 

“You feel guilty.” The Elder stated, feeling like a punch to the gut. “Not just about the life you took, though he was a criminal that deserved it. But you feel guilty for the people you failed. The family you left behind.

“Here is your first lesson, then, harsh though it may be. Hundreds of thousands of lives hang in the balance, by every decision We make. Every life, then, is on Our hands. Whether innocent or guilty, young or old. This man may have been guilty of the crimes We executed him for, but the next may not be. Remember that, James.”

“If he deserved to die, by any law, we ought to execute him. It is both our right and our prerogative,” Master Erebus said blandly. 

“And yet other times, mercy may be the best recourse. You may whet your blade on those more deserving of death.” To James, he said, “Erebus is the hidden blade of the Council - assassin and executioner both. He may “slip the leash”, so to speak, at times, but he always comes home. Now, let me introduce you to the rest of us.

“Leonidas, our Master of War, of both battle prowess and tactics.” The orc Elder grinned, and James shuddered. The teeth. 

“Ferrer, a master craftsman, our very own Master of the Forge. There is very little he cannot make.” The dwarf’s beard quivered with indignation at the insinuation that there was something he could not create. 

“Edmund, our Master of Civilization. Very little goes on in the world without his knowing, and empires can topple at his command.” The goblin waved cheekily. 

“Vaerra, Mistress of the Forest. Anything that is living, she knows like the back of her hand.” The elf winked, her straw-blonde hair swaying lightly. The vines that wrapped around her hair sprouted new leaves.

“Morgan, Master of the Arcane. They wield magic as easily as breathing.” The other human in the room tapped their fingers against their staff in annoyance.

“Lila, Mistress of Knowledge. She always seeks to know more. None on this plane understands how the world works better than Lila.” the wizened, old woman smiled at James.

“And finally, Erebus, known to all as the Master of Death.” The white-robed Elder winked at James. “But we know him to be the kind soul he is, isn’t that right, Erebus?”

The black-cowled man only shrugged in response. 

“We can’t forget you though, Master,” the goblin - Edmund - spoke up. “The Grand Elder himself. He has the final judgment on anything the Council decides.”

“I’m not certain I like the word ‘judgment’,” the Grand Elder sighed. “I am no god, to decide the fate of the world, but I must at least ensure that what happens is right.

“Know this, James. Though we may be hidden from the rest of the Continent, and the common people only know us to be a group of powerful immortals who care little for the comings-and-goings of this world, we do care. Our disciples are scattered across the far reaches of the world, in every country, kingdom, and state. We are in governments, in armies, in religious gatherings. 

“There is very little that Our eyes cannot see, very little that Our hands cannot reach. Hidden as we are, we nevertheless influence everything that happens, shepherding the people onto the right path. 

“This is our duty, as the Council of Elders.”