council doors

By sunset everyone in Feinfall knew of the accusation. That Lydiette Hen's amber dragon was missing, that Daren Wolf was accusing Jerimiah Fox of the theft, and that the council met hardly an hour after the execution to discuss the matter.

Closed doors in a small town are like unending ripples on a lake. They build on themselves, increasing in volume and power until they crash against the shore with the force of a hundred men. The waves are anxiety, curiosity, and expectation, knocking down the wise and foolish alike. Unstoppable, impossible to ignore, and absorbed by the mind and heart until there's no room for anything else. Closed doors give away everything, and nothing at the same time.

The doors of the council room were old and heavy. And not one, but two sets of them separated the eleven council members from the outside world. Ideas were formed and buried in the room, behind the two doors. Buildings were raised and trenches wer dug. Fields were plowed, harvests were counted, and money was colleted. The death of many a man was decded behind the two doors, and the lives of many spared. A certain Wren Ghost was found guilty and sentenced in the room; Silman Doe was fined for trading poison in the room; and on this day, Jerimiah Fox was judged innocent of the thievery of Hen's amber dragon, in the room.

Daren, the Wolf of Feinfall, would not have it.