The echo of Eragon's boots rang through the obsidian corridors of the Dragon Palace, sharp and deliberate, each step carrying the weight of his thoughts. His expression was carved from stone, but the gold in his eyes flickered with something darker, irritation mixed with curiosity.
He had received the message not long ago. Not a written scroll, not a messenger, it had come directly into his mind, spoken in the voice of power that none could ignore.
"By right of dominion, I, Emperor of Arman, call for the Racial Council."
The words still echoed faintly in his mind, carrying that familiar tinge of arrogance only humans could manage.
The Racial Council.
A gathering that only occurred once in a century. A meeting where the four rulers of Pandora's sentient races, the Humans, Dragons, Elves, and Beastkin, would convene to decide matters that affected all existence. Each race could summon it only once every hundred years.
And now, the humans had done it.
