Location: Solencia Grand Council Boardroom Atrium (Dawn)
The marble floors of the Grand Council Boardroom Atrium gleamed in the first light of dawn, reflecting the anxious faces of dozens of guild faction heads as they converged beneath a towering mosaic of Solencia's founding scrolls. Itsuki Hiroto, now theoretically neutral by the Council's decree, was conspicuously absent—an absence that only fueled the rising tension.
Clanks of armor and rustles of silks echoed as representatives from every corner of the continent gathered in whispered consultation:
Master Kaldin of the Dwarven Caravans, beard dusted with ledger‑ash, furtively checked his ledger‑tablet.
Lady Arindel of the Elven Silk Weavers, robes trailing dew‑silver, scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes.
Merchant High Councilor Corvinus, quill‑tucked collar perfectly straight, shifted his weight on gilded loafers.
Beastfolk Matron Horin, antler‑tipped cloak rustling, sniffed the air like a wary wolf.
Sky Rider Envoy Eolyn, wings still gleaming with tailwind feather‑oil, tapped a talon‑sharp boot.
Commander Vekthar of the Demon Guild, claws idly scraping stone benches.
Grand Inquisitor Elgar, robed in midnight blue, arms folded over ecclesiastical insignia.
Each faction head carried petition scrolls, complaint dossiers, and confidential petitions for "neutralizing" Hiroto's runaway influence. The air thrummed with the prospect of back‑alley alliances, mutual backstabbing, and whispered assassinations—all in pursuit of logistical dominance.
Master Kaldin thundered, voice echoing off vaulted ceilings: "He must be contained! His yawn averted war; his spreadsheets crushed rebellion; now his recruits—Clerk Fu warriors—patrol our caravan routes!"
High Councilor Corvinus laid a hand on Kaldin's arm, voice diplomatic. "We propose a reallocation of district funds to dilute his authority—transfer supply budgets to the Artisan Guild."
Lady Arindel's silver‑lit voice floated above the murmur: "Or we call upon the Church's anointed arbiters to remove him from office—tell us, Grand Inquisitor, will you sanction such a trial?"
Elgar's eyes glittered. "A trial, yes—but conviction only if he violates the sacred neutrality edict."
Matron Horin stamped a hoof‑like foot. "Until then, we prepare contingency measures. My Beastguard scouts stand ready."
A hush fell as Commander Vekthar unfurled a rune‑etched parchment: "I have clandestine forces loyal to the Demon Guild—prepared to 'escort' him into a permanent vacation."
Sera, cloaked in guild harness, slipped through the crowd to keep an eye on her late commander. Virelya, steel‑petal poised, guarded the main entrance.
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Location: Central Council Boardroom (Mid‑Morning)
At exactly nine o'clock, the grand doors to the Central Council Boardroom swung open. A long oak table—scarred with centuries of ink‑blots and dagger marks—stood ready. Chairs of varying heights and designs awaited the faction heads, each bearing a brass nameplate.
Chancellor Beltram presided from the head of the table, gavel in hand. He cleared his throat. "Esteemed delegates, we convene today to address the… anomalous case of Captain Hiroto. You have petitioned for measures to limit his influence. I ask: are we prepared to vote on your proposals?"
Before any faction could speak, a soft thud sounded at the threshold. All eyes turned: a servant placed three platters of freshly baked cookies and a steaming pot of "Sunrise Spice Tea" at the edge of the table.
Moments later, Hiroto himself slipped into the room, flour‑smudged apron peeking beneath his council robes, wide baker's hat in hand. He offered a lopsided bow. "Apologies for my tardiness. I—uh—brought cookies."
A ripple of stunned silence washed through the room. The faction heads froze mid‑gesture:
Master Kaldin half‑raised his hand to slam the table in protest—then lowered it.
Lady Arindel's hand fluttered to her mouth, unready to quibble.
Corvinus's quill paused above a petition scroll.
Matron Horin's antlers drooped.
Eolyn blinked her winged eyelashes.
Commander Vekthar's claws loosened grip on his parchment.
Grand Inquisitor Elgar raised an eyebrow, gavel forgotten.
Hiroto cleared his throat, voice meek: "I—I made them this morning. Chocolate‑nut wands, spiced honey gems, and—my personal favorite—almond glaze. Would anyone care to try one?"
He extended a platter. Virelya by his side tensed, hand on hilt; Sera gave him an encouraging nod.
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Location: Central Council Boardroom (Continued)
One by one, faction heads reached for a cookie:
Kaldin crunched a honey gem, eyes widening in surprise.
Arindel bit an almond glaze, nodding imperceptibly.
Corvinus scooped sugar from the plate, placing it beside his petition.
Matron Horin cradled a chocolate wand like a trophy.
Eolyn inhaled the spice‑tea steam as she dipped her treat.
Commander Vekthar broke a glazed rim and sampled the crumb.
Elgar sipped tea, brows softening.
The room's atmosphere transformed: sword‑throat conspiracies melted into gentle hums of confection appreciation. Even the carved wooden doors sighed as if relieved.
Chancellor Beltram set down his gavel. "Captain Hiroto… thank you for these… offerings. They are… excellent."
Hiroto exhaled, tasting relief. "Thank you. I… wasn't sure what the council would serve."
Sera whispered, "Cookies always win."
Virelya lowered her guard. "For once, diplomacy by dessert."
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Location: Central Council Boardroom (Afternoon)
Discussion resumed—this time, over crumbled cookies and tea‑stained treaties. Proposals were reconsidered through the lens of sugar‑induced goodwill:
Kaldin: "Perhaps we invest in warehouse kitchens—we could sponsor a Cookie Corps under his guidance."
Arindel: "All faction leaders should share tea blends monthly—to foster unity."
Corvinus: "A rotating cookie guild—each guild provides treats to Hiroto's recruits."
Matron Horin: "We dedicate morning rituals to group tea—no plotting before the first sip."
Eolyn: "Sky Rider couriers deliver pastries at dawn—an empire‑wide goodwill dispatch."
Vekthar: "Demons… well, we'd prefer coffee. But cookies are… tolerable."
Elgar: "Let this be our new path—diplomacy by dessert."
Chancellor Beltram surveyed the smiling faces around the table. "It seems the council's sharpest blades have been dulled by… confectionary compromise. Therefore, I propose we appoint Captain Hiroto as—"
He paused, looking at the assembled heads. Hiroto swallowed, heart thudding.
"—Guildmaster of Inter‑Guild Relations,** to oversee all diplomatic sweets and morning teas, ensuring unity through shared treats. All in favor, say 'aye'."
A chorus of "Aye" rose in unison. The gavel sounded—a soft thwack that echoed like a shared heartbeat.
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Location: Central Council Boardroom (Cliffhanger)
Hiroto's jaw dropped. Crumbs trembled on his lap. Sera gasped; Virelya's eyes widened.
Cookies at noon? He'd asked only for a quiet batch.
Now, as Guildmaster of Inter‑Guild Relations, he would orchestrate the very office politics he'd begged to escape—armed only with tea, cookies, and an accidental knack for peace.
Chancellor Beltram handed him the gilded Title Scroll. As Hiroto reached to accept it, a low rumble shook the marble floor: a newly arrived messenger's hoofbeats, urgent as thunder.
Hiroto's eyes darted toward the carved doors. What now?
And in that hushed moment, the Council awaited his answer, the cookies lay half‑eaten, and destiny's silent hand had once again dealt him a role he never sought—at the very precipice of a confectionary coup.