Within the shadows of the gloomy stone monument, the Circle bickered. The Watchers gave their reports, the Magistrates presented their figures, and the Seers relayed the progress of their studies, but not one of the Speakers could agree on the proper course of action.
The First's proxy argued for gathering a mighty army from the furtherest-flung provinces and raiding the Abysian's undefended heartlands. This would force the bands of flame mages and burning ravagers marching ever deeper into the Near and Close to turn back to reclaim their homelands.
The Third argued this was folly; surely, if the fire demons could hold whole provinces with an officer and a handful of henchmen, or man mighty keeps with only three or four officers, they must be mighty indeed, else their neighbors to the south and east would not be too terrified of them to lay waste to their seemingly undefended lands. No, all resources must be massed to break the thin, iron shroud being dragged forward towards Carnutes. When this small but fierce line was broken (as it would have been in the Shire, had the First's foolish hireling Stroumsa joined the fight rather than seeking plunder to the east), the other nations would see that Abysia was a burning wicker boar, and as its only standing armies would be broken, all the world would fall on its undefended holdings like a flock of vultures.
The proxy for the First replied that the Third was contradicting himself, as had he not just said the other nations were too frightened of Abysia to raise arms against it, even should the whole of its armies be routed in the heart of Marverni? As he began to wax poetic comparing the Third's face and mind to the droppings of lowly Torcmór, he was drowned out as the Second, Fifth, and Twelfth's argument over research priorities erupted into a screaming contest.
The Eighth and Nineth were physically separating the Fourth and Tenth, who had come to blows over the practicality of allowing the High King maintain his illusions of rule in lieu of the Regent wielding his authority openly. This did not last, however, as the Nineth, sharing the Fourth's regicidal inclinations, turned loose his familiar inside the robes of the Tenth under the pretense of restraining him; soon enough those four august priests were engaged in a fistfight that would not look out of place in a village ale hall.
The Sixth and Seventh had cornered one of the Magistrates, and were arguing with each other (through him) about appropriate tax rates. The argument, though originally grounded in reason and fact, with valid concerns raised on both sides, was rapidly devolving into a squabble over age-old grudges between the Sixth's Eponi and Seventh's Sequani tribes. It looked as though they would soon enough also come to blows, although again perhaps through the hapless surrogate between them.
From the shadows, the Eleventh and Thirteenth watched with gloomy resignation. If the Circle, the self-proclaimed wisest and most responsible of all the Marverni people, was anything to judge by, the tribes would soon enough fall under the blackened lash of the burning ones. The junior Speakers shared a grim glance, and slipped from the Circle.