The council - part 1

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Oh hell! I thought. That damn dream again. When will it leave me alone? I'd woken up in one of the weirdest rooms in the world. Maybe it's my eyesight or something 'cause I'm sure walls don't change colour every second. I stared for a few moments at the walls watching them go from pink to lilac, to blue and then to the most disgusting type of yellow I have ever seen.
"Quis um horrendus celare?" said a voice at my side. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Where did he come from and what the hell did he just say?
In a chair (that seemed to have no legs) was sitting a man. a man best described as, well, not old but... archaic, as if he'd never stepped out of his front door in...Well ever. Wearing a large, red cloak around him and a wooden walking stick.
"Um, s-sorry, what d-d-did you s-say?" I asked, slowly.
I realized as soon as I saw the expression on the man's face, that I had said something wrong. I had never seen such a look of rage in my life. A minute past while I watched the man pacing left and right. Eventually the man stopped and looked at me. At that moment it seemed that an impenetrable casing of calmness arose in the room, as if the summer holidays had turned up and you had six whole weeks to do absolutely nothing.
After a moment the man walked towards the nearby chair and sat down. A moment passed before he spoke.
"Quis operor vos memori?" he asked, quietly.
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe it where the hell was I?
"Um...sorry...I don't speak Spanish." I replied tentively.
He closed his eyes.
"Quis est vistri nomen?" he asked, more forcibly.
"Sorry...No...I don't understand." I shook my head.
It was then that I heard something that I could understand. He whispered so quietly I nearly missed it.
The man uttered.
"This is not how it is supposed to happen."

"Would you follow me, please?" said the man, in perfectly, understandable English.
"Yeah, err, sure." I replied. Surprised at how simply he switched between languages.
We walked silently, for what seemed like a lifetime. I tried to remember the way. Left, right, second left, third right. But it was just too long. A moment later we headed down a set of metal circular stairs, straight through an ancient looking anteroom, into the office within.

The room resembled a Seventeenth century office, with papers ordered in every direction, and with candlesticks added sparsely throughout the room. This would have seemed totally ordinary had it not been for the fact that the candles were floating and that the papers were being written on by quills of their own accord. Just as the man walked in it was as if a switch had been flicked, all the lights seemed to slowly fade into a bright candle-light and out of nowhere a colossal fireplace roared to life. The man sat down behind an ancient wooden desk. The room was silent for a moment; the man seemed to be debating something.
"It is time," Said the man, evidently satisfied with the conclusion of the debate. "To explain to you why you are here." He paused. "Lorian, please sit down, I am going to tell you everything." He waited patiently, perfectly content in examining his hands.
I waited a moment, and then sat down.
"I am going to tell you why you are here, do not think that I am lying or that what I am going to tell you is wrong or cannot be true, because it is."
The candles in room dimmed.
"How do you do that?" I asked, with million's of other question's buzzing in my head.
The man looked at me,
"You will understand how as I progress through my story, I will not answer it now for it will only confuse you more. First you must understand here I am known as The Steward."