The Council Of Enlightenment: Divided Paths

Across the three great kingdoms of Bathalumea, the bustling sounds of the morning signaled the start of another day. In the heart of the Northern Sovereign Kingdom of Lihimna, scholars and citizens alike moved with purpose, preparing for the day ahead. The air hummed with energy as students made their way to the grand academies that dotted the city, eager to begin their studies under the watchful eyes of their mentors.

In the southern domain, in the vibrant Free Confederation of Sandigsal, the streets buzzed with activity. The people exchanged goods and stories in a harmony that spoke of generations of peace. Here, where creativity and cooperation were held in the highest regard, the preparation for the True Awakening Ceremony was already underway.

But it was the Enlightened Domain of Lagakyaw, the heart of the Central Kingdom, that hosted the most crucial gathering of the year—the Council of the Enlightenment.

Nestled in the serene beauty of Valmorca, the Hearth of Haranawa, the 12 council members gathered to decide how the sacred Awakening Slots would be divided.

Valmorca, radiant and serene, stood as a symbol of peace and stability in the heart of Bathalumea. Amidst lush, emerald hills, the city shimmered in the morning light like a beacon of harmony. Its markets bustled with vibrant colors, and the scent of ripe, exotic fruits and fragrant flowers mingled with the rich, earthy aroma of the fertile land.

Towering stone structures, adorned with ancient carvings, blended seamlessly with the natural landscape, while distant waterfalls whispered a soothing melody. The balance of nature and culture here created a sense of unwavering peace, making it a perfect place for discussions that could shape the future of the land.

The council members, representatives from the three kingdoms of Lagakyaw, Lihimna, and Sandigsal, assembled within the grand hall. Their presence alone spoke of the significance of the meeting, as each councilor carried an aura of power and wisdom, the weight of their kingdoms resting upon their shoulders.

The topic at hand was crucial. The True Awakening Ceremony allowed individuals to unlock their powers through the Loom System, but the slots for Awakening were limited. Governed by the Auralis Concordium Nexus, the global organization that oversaw all Awakening ceremonies, Bathalumea had been granted a total of 50,000 slots for the year.

However, how these slots would be distributed among the three kingdoms was the matter of intense debate.

Councilor Dalaric, from Lagakyaw, stood tall with a regal posture, his silver hair flowing like a cascade of moonlight down his back. His piercing amber eyes glowed with the intensity of a thousand lifetimes of knowledge. His attire, a flowing robe of deep blue embroidered with intricate golden patterns, shimmered as if it held the very essence of the stars themselves. The faintest air of divine energy radiated from him, as if he were in tune with forces greater than mere mortals. When he spoke, it was as if the wisdom of the ages poured from his lips with unyielding authority.

From the Sovereign Kingdom of Lihimna, Councilor Nara was a striking presence. Tall and graceful, she moved with a fluidity that suggested a strength tempered by elegance.

Her deep auburn hair, braided intricately with golden thread, framed a face that was both beautiful and fierce.

Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, gleamed with an unwavering determination. Clad in a crimson gown that shimmered like the setting sun, her aura exuded power and confidence, making it clear that she was a protector of her people, willing to do whatever it took to safeguard their future.

From the Free Confederation of Sandigsal, Councilor Mira was the epitome of calm beauty. Her silver-gray hair, streaked with pale violet, flowed gently around her shoulders like a silken veil. Her features were soft but purposeful, with eyes the color of twilight that seemed to reflect the ever-changing world around her. Dressed in flowing robes of lavender and white, her presence radiated a serene and peaceful energy that soothed all who came near her. Her voice, when she spoke, was like a soft breeze—gentle, but carrying the weight of deep, thoughtful convictions. She was a leader who believed in balance, wisdom, and unity, a calming force in any storm.

As the council began, Councilor Dalaric from Lagakyaw was the first to speak. His voice, steady but filled with conviction, resonated in the chamber. "The Central Kingdom has long been the heart of the Loom's progress," he argued, his amber eyes narrowing slightly with a sense of quiet determination. "Our academies foster the most advanced understanding of the system, and it is only right that we receive a significant share of the slots to ensure we continue to lead Bathalumea into the future."

Councilor Nara from Lihimna, standing tall and proud, responded quickly, her green eyes sharp as blades. "While we respect Lagakyaw's position," she said, her voice unwavering and stern, "let us not forget that the strength of Bathalumea is built upon our warriors and protectors. The Awakening is not just a matter of knowledge—it is a matter of defense. Our kingdom must ensure that we have enough slots to train the next generation of leaders and guardians."

The room grew quiet as the two powerful councilors exchanged words, but the calm presence of Councilor Mira soon filled the space. Her voice was like a soft breeze, but it carried an unshakable calm. "The Free Confederation stands for peace and unity. We are not merely focused on military might or scholarly achievement," she said gently, her violet eyes reflecting the light like twin pools of wisdom. "Our people value harmony, cooperation, and diplomacy. A fair share of Awakening slots is vital to ensuring that our future leaders are not just powerful, but wise, compassionate, and just."

The debate grew heated as each representative passionately argued for their kingdom's share of the precious slots. The stakes were high. The number of Awakening slots determined the future strength and stability of their respective kingdoms—and the balance of power across all of Bathalumea.

Hours passed before the council finally reached an agreement. There would be 16,000 slots allocated to each of the three kingdoms. But that was not the end of the matter. The final 2,000 slots, which would not be allocated to any one kingdom, were set aside for the top 2,000 students from across the country, based on merit points. These students, having demonstrated exceptional abilities and potential, would be given the chance to awaken, regardless of their kingdom affiliation.

With the decision made, Speaker Lorian, the head of the council, stood and addressed the room. "The slots for this year's True Awakening Ceremony have been decided. Each kingdom shall receive 16,000 slots, and the remaining 2,000 will be reserved for the top 2,000 students across Bathalumea, selected based on their merit."

Most of the representatives nodded in agreement, and the room fell into a moment of quiet reflection. The weight of the decision was clear—this allocation would set the course for the year ahead, determining not only who would be chosen for the Awakening but also the future balance of power within the kingdom.

"As we move forward, let us remember the importance of this ceremony," Speaker Lorian continued. "The Awakening is not just a ritual; it is a turning point. It is a chance for our people to grow, to lead, and to protect the future of Bathalumea. May we always ensure that those chosen are not only powerful but worthy of the responsibility they carry."

With the announcement complete, the council members exchanged quiet words, their faces set with determination.

The meeting was over, but the work ahead was only beginning. The allocation had been made, and now the focus would shift to the preparation for the True Awakening Ceremony—a moment that would mark the beginning of a new chapter for Bathalumea.

As the council session ended and the representatives began to disperse, the air in the grand hall still hung heavy with the weight of the decisions made. Councilor Nara of the Sovereign Kingdom of Lihimna made her way out of the chamber, her crimson gown trailing behind her like a streak of sunset. Her green eyes were sharp and narrowed in frustration, her posture tense, as if each step she took was laced with an undercurrent of anger.

The decision to allocate 16,000 slots to each kingdom, with 2,000 left for merit-based students, had not sat well with her. The very idea of her kingdom, a bastion of strength and defense, receiving the same number of slots as the Free Confederation of Sandigsal—a kingdom she considered to be far less urgent in terms of military preparation—was a waste in her eyes. To her, the decision felt like a disregard for Lihimna's need for powerful warriors who would protect Bathalumea from external threats.

As she moved toward her assigned transport, a few fellow representatives from Lihimna joined her, offering their condolences, their faces mirroring the displeasure that was written across Nara's features.

"I can't believe it," she muttered, her voice tinged with bitterness. "To think that we, the sovereign protectors of Bathalumea, are to be on the same footing as the Confederation—it's a waste. A waste of resources, a waste of power. And the 2,000 slots for the rest of them? Ridiculous. That's nearly a third of what should have gone to us."

One of her fellow councilors, a solemn figure with dark hair and a stoic expression, placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to soothe her frustration. "Nara," he said gently, "nothing can be done. The decision is made. Lagakyaw and Sandigsal had strong voices in this matter. The balance they want to strike… they're looking to preserve unity, not just strength. Perhaps we must see it from their perspective."

But Nara only shook her head in disagreement, her brows furrowing deeper. "Unity? They speak of balance, but what use is balance when the heart of this land, its protection, is left weakened? Sandigsal's values may be admirable, but they have no understanding of what the true threats of Bathalumea are. Peace is fragile, and that fragility can only be maintained if we are strong enough to defend it."

Her voice carried a trace of regret, as though she feared the kingdom's warriors would be left behind in this new system. Her frustration was palpable, but the weight of the council's decision still loomed over her, unchangeable.

One of the other councilors, a young representative from Lihimna, sighed and looked away. "We all knew this was coming. There was no way we could sway them, not with the political forces at play." His words offered little comfort, but Nara appreciated his honesty.

She stepped into the waiting transport, the door closing with a soft hiss. The moment she was alone, she stared out the window, the landscape blurring as the vehicle moved swiftly through the streets. She gripped the edge of her seat, her mind racing with strategies, plans, and what-ifs. If only she could convince the other kingdoms of the real dangers lurking beyond the horizon…

Far across Bathalumea, in the Free Confederation of Sandigsal, Councilor Mira was positively glowing with satisfaction. The trip back to her kingdom felt lighter, her steps almost buoyant as she laughed quietly, amused by the contrast between her own thoughts and those of Nara.

It was true that her people were not as focused on martial might, but Mira had always believed in the value of intellect, diplomacy, and unity.

She understood the necessity of balance, of creating leaders who could both wield power and bring people together. The slots being equally distributed to each kingdom suited her vision perfectly, and the bonus of 2,000 merit-based slots for the brightest students across Bathalumea was a stroke of genius. This would allow the best minds and the most promising talents—no matter where they came from—to rise.

As she rode back to Sandigsal, she couldn't help but chuckle, a gentle sound that carried the warmth of contentment. Her companions, the fellow representatives from Sandigsal, exchanged knowing glances, their faces more relaxed than they had been during the council meeting.

"It seems our esteemed friends from Lihimna are less than pleased," Mira remarked playfully, her voice light. She gestured towards the Northern Domain; Sovereign Kingdom's distant borders were visible from their transport windows, the faint glimmer of Lihimna's towering spires on the horizon. "Their faces looked as though they'd just bitten into something sour. Their objections were... unmistakable, to say the least."

One of her fellow representatives, a broad-shouldered man with a warm smile, joined her laughter. "Perhaps it's the very idea that Sandigsal could ever be on equal footing with them. Their arrogance blinds them to the benefits of unity. We all know their obsession with strength... it's no wonder they feel threatened."

Mira smiled softly, her violet eyes reflecting a quiet amusement. "And yet, when all is said and done, we are the ones with the upper hand. They have their soldiers, and we have our leaders. It's the future of Bathalumea, and the future looks bright."

She allowed herself another chuckle, not out of malice, but simply at the thought of Nara's disdain. "Perhaps they'll come to see the wisdom of this decision—perhaps not. But for now, we have peace, and we have opportunity. And that, my dear friends, is what matters most."

Her voice carried the warmth of a woman who was at peace with her choices, confident in the direction her kingdom would take. Sandigsal might have been a kingdom of cooperation, but Mira understood better than most: the art of wielding influence lay in knowing when to make the right connections—and when to let others believe they had won.

As the transport journeyed onward, Mira's thoughts were calm and satisfied.

She could already imagine the students of Sandigsal receiving the news, excited for the opportunities ahead. The Awakening Slots would open doors for many—but only the brightest and the most deserving would truly unlock the potential that Bathalumea's future demanded. And Sandigsal, as always, would rise above at the heart of it all.