Belore Bart gave a single, resolute nod. "Good. We'll need tight control and coordination. Next—reconstruction. Who can take that on?"
Archmage Lorien Quavek straightened, adjusting his robes with a sharp, practiced flick. "I'll take charge of structural reinforcement and arcane restoration," he said crisply. "My towers remain intact, and the magical infrastructure is still holding. I'll mobilize the mage corps and advanced academy students to stabilize the most critical sectors and conjure temporary shelters." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But we'll be stretched thin without additional labor support."
"I'll manage distribution," Ysolde Calwin said, her arms crossed, her tone brisk and unflinching. "Food, water, medical supplies—whatever remains. I'll also send envoys to the major cities and old distribution hubs. If they're still standing, we need to assess their condition. If they can help us—or if they'll need help themselves." She turned her gaze to Liam with a curt nod. "Passart. Your communication network is critical now."
A wry smile played on Magister Orvax Grimm's lips as he leaned forward with thinly veiled excitement. "Then I'll raise the dead," he said, almost cheerfully. "Not for war—strictly labor. Corpses are plentiful. They don't eat. They don't sleep. Let them rebuild what the living cannot."
The declaration drew a few uneasy shifts among the gathered council, but Belore didn't so much as blink.
"Keep them out of sight," he said simply. "Use them where they're needed—but not where the people must see them. Layla?"
"I'll take point on medical research," Layla Ackerman replied. Her voice was steady, clinical. "I'll oversee triage and start monitoring for early signs of mana instability—hallucinations, tremors, cognitive lapses. We'll need suppressive therapies and burnout stabilizers, especially for mages still working the frontlines. What's left of my lab should be enough to start."
Dr. Kessian Thorne offered her a quick nod. "I'll lead the healing efforts. My mobile clinics are intact, and we'll begin transferring the worst cases to any sanctuary still standing." He looked to Liam. "You mentioned manors?"
Liam nodded. "Yes. Most of the noble estates in the upper district are reinforced and structurally intact. We move the wounded and displaced there."
General Hadrek Vorn frowned deeply, his arms crossed. "And just like that, you'd throw open the gates of the highborn to the starving masses? You'd overturn a thousand years of monarchy in a week, Passart?"
Liam held his gaze without flinching. "No. I want to keep people alive. If the nobility still believes in its divine right to rule, it can start by offering a roof to the dying."
A tense silence settled over the chamber, thick as storm clouds. Then Belore's voice cut through it like steel.
"We move the people," the Knight Commander said. "I'll maintain security and internal order. Any noble who raises a hand against a refugee answers to my sword."
From across the table, Marquess Vaelros Nightbane reclined in his seat with a serpentine smirk. "Then I'll see to the slums and the roads between," he said smoothly. "My people know how to move unseen. We'll keep supplies flowing through what's left of the undercity."
Mistress Calra Vynn's tone was calm, but layered with something darker beneath. "I'll handle morale and mental stabilization. The Children of Ecstasy still hold sway in the minds of many. Give me the broken, the grieving, the mad—and I'll give you order."
Then, from the far end of the chamber, the Oracle of Broken Glass spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft and distant, as if echoing from another time. "Trade must flow… or the city rots from within."
Belore turned back to the others. "That leaves trade routes. Vaelros. Calwin. You'll work together. Roads, tunnels, forests—whatever remains open, you'll find it."
Vaelros gave a low chuckle. "That'll be a charming partnership."
Ysolde's scowl could have carved stone. "Just don't vanish with the goods."
Belore rose, drawing his sword in a smooth motion and planting the tip against the chamber floor. The steel rang with finality.
"Then it's settled," he declared. "This city won't survive as it was… but it will survive."