Chapter IV, continued again.

Don't worry, I'll put it in the right order and format once I'm done!

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"Then we have an impasse. We cannot send aid for fear it will bring chaos to the world, we cannot deny aid for fear our kind will be retaliated against, yet we must do one or the other, and do it soon." Derlen was ready to break down in tears. Muriel spoke again.
“We might send a token of support. This token would take some time in arriving, and then not severely imbalance the fight. Besides, we shall demand our forces to be placed under no military command, but be allowed to operate independently. That way, we will be able to keep from doing more manipulation in this fight than necessary.
“We must decide what our true objective is. Do we try to deliberately show the King our independence? That will enrage him. Do we want to conserve our forces for the times ahead? This is the way to do it.”
“And how do you propose to convince the King to be satisfied with that token? Would it not rather appear to him that we are toying with his patience, attempting to delay our decision?”
“Not if our priorities lie elsewhere, and if they do so with justification.”
“You do not actually intend to tell him of—“ they had all read the agenda, and the address. It wasn’t as if Derlen had written ‘concerning the apocalypse at hand’ in big letters as the third point in the plan, but everyone knew what was at stake.
“If the matter becomes more dire, yes I do. What difficulty do you see in that?” there was a collective snort.
“He will not believe a bit of it. And if he did, it would unnecessarily jeopardize everything. Our hope there lies in secrecy. We are where we started.” In any discussion, Derlen had long found – especially when he was first speaker – that to play devil’s advocate and the diehard pessimist was not a very thankful role, but the best way to bring the debate forward.
In the far end of the room, another man rose. He was robed in black, and his long raven hair tumbled down to his shoulders in a way that attracted somewhat envious looks from the wizards around him – following tradition there was hardly anyone in the room below fifty, and nearly all of their hair had long faded to gray. That of the men, leastways: female mages didn’t hold with showing age when it was not necessary to do so – and it was never necessary if you were skilled with magic. But this one did not need a spell to look young – he was barely in his thirties. The dark-haired wizard spoke.
“There is a time for honesty, and a time for deceit.”
Ayin Selten was the Archmagus of the Sixth; his was the magic of the Shadow. Naturally, an Order like Carenath had to maintain balance; there were towers of all the elements, which had to work to ensure an equilibrium betwen the opposites: Air (which those of the tower themselves always preferred to call Wind) and Earth, Fire and Water, Light and Shadow. The supreme order of the magi could not afford to discriminate between the tiers; chaos would result. Still, most of the mages were somewhat suspicious of the Sixth, perceiving it like an ingrown toenail, a corruption. A necessary evil to have around, but still an evil nonetheless. Those dressed in the black were accordingly looked at from the side by any but the most progressive of apprentices; you could never know when one of those scheming warlocks was up to something. Ayin Selten was one of the mages concerned who noticed this attitude toward him, but ignored it.
“Would you care to elaborate, Ayin?” Cryptic comments were Ayin’s strong point, much to the irritation of those of the council. As was his archaic way of speaking, that the older mages scoffed at as youthful romanticism.
“Not for nothing do the people of Atharellia call us the Weavers of Fate, do they? I have heard it said that this war concerns us not, that we must let it run its course. But I say that this war truly does concern the fate of the world and the academy of Carenath.
“Truly, if what our Raven has brought us is true, we are in dire danger, as is the Kingdom. Soon, it shall be ravaged by the forces of the dark, and the armies of the King shall be unable to fend them off as they are locked up in the civil war. The rebellious lands and the Kingdom alike will be swept aside by the tide from the nether, and we shall have a second Breaking indeed, a Breaking that is no less disastrous for failing to reshape these lands and cast them below the waters, for it shall lay all to waste nonetheless.
“There is only one way to avert this: We must put a stop to this foolish war. We must quite plainly force these warmongers to make peace and instead ally themselves against the darkness to come. And it shall come, I have gazed in the Darkwell and seen a time of dread, days of battle, of grief.”
“And again, how do you propose to convince them? We are running in a circle here. We cannot tell the moogs of the true threat, and we cannot convince them any other way.” Derlen was growing exasperated.
“Who speaks of convincing? Who speaks of persuading? I spoke of forcing! Ramon was quite right when he said that the armies of the King are powerless against us. He cannot hope to defeat us in an open conflict, he can only harm us slowly by persecuting mages in his realm, over a long time. If we act quickly and surely, there will be no time for that.”
“You don’t actually mean we should depose His Majesty?”
“Impeachment, I believe the term is for such a thing. No, I do not mean that, though the idea bears thought if the conflict should escalate. For now, I simply meant we would promise to send a strong force to restore peace.
“We send this force, wait until the time is right, then bloodlessly incapacitate both sides of the struggle and force peace terms down their throat.”
For a few seconds, there was silence, as the other Elders contemplated this. Then, for a brief seconds, they all looked as if they would break out in applause. Instead, they politely started knocking the heavy oaken table in respect, as was traditional.