"Peace?" Keltäs slammed his hands down on the cold, smooth surface of the table, rising to his feet. His dark eyes flashed, "We will not have peace! Would you,"-his gaze swept around the council room-"would you dally and dither like cowards, hiding within the borders of your kingdom, denying there is a threat, and listen to your children sing nursery rhymes around you?" He leaned forwards, enjoying the fear that sparked in the councillor's eyes as they leaned away from him. He pitched his voice higher than usual, almost as if imitating a small child, "'Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home! Your house is on fire, your children are gone!'" Uncertain of what to think, the five other feyries glanced at each other, eyes wide. "That is //quite// the accurate representation of what will happen, should we let the Dragonking attack first! Farzan!" The tall, beanpole-thin Feyrie at the end of the table started, his blue eyes darting around like those of a trapped animal. "Your Majesty?" "I will tell you this once, and I hope I shan't have to repeat myself: send out the troops." "Your Majesty?" another, slightly more obnoxious voice asked. "What." it was a statement, not a question. "The Dragonking's troops outnumber us." "The Dragonking's troops outnumber //me//, Raynor." the Feylord smiled, a thin-lipped, cruel smile. "Send them out anyways. *Straight, if everything goes right, into a massacre...*
