The meeting occurred on a Tuesday night. Once a night for cheap movies at the cinema, the DVD revolution and an exorbitant flat rate for the big screen kept people at home. Monday was the start of the week and many needed the comfort of a relaxing drink to take the edge off that first day. Wednesday was hump day and a popular night for meetings – so the hall had been already booked. Thursday, of course, was the downhill slope into the weekend and popular for Ladies’ Nights and themed parties as a warm-up for Friday. Tuesday was the forgotten evening and, now, domain of the Onyx Court.

Less unfolded the last of the tables while Duane lugged the coffee urn in from the kitchen. He set it next to the one with the hot water for tea – the one he always had to pour out at the end of the night. The coffee was bad enough but tea made with luke-warm water was a concoction even Seleman wouldn’t drink. Job done, the gentle mortal, Duane, nodded to Less and went back out to check on reception. The meeting room was housed in the Mythic City Hyde street drop-in centre and soup kitchen. Tuesdays may be forgotten by society but for those who had fallen through the bottom it was just another night to look for somewhere warm to sit. There were a few geriatric computers and volunteers taught literary or art classes for those who were interested. Mostly people just hung around and spoke their minds until it was time for the doors to close.

Less opened the flimsy cardboard box of doughnuts. The lid had shiny rings of chocolate and sugar icing stuck to it. He was wondering if anyone would bother showing up when the first courtier arrived. His fae mien was hidden but Less recognized him – he had been on the mountain for the coronation. They exchanged awkward nods as he helped himself to a doughnut and selected a seat at the far end of the table. Over the course of forty-five minutes virtually all of the Court filtered in, found seats and helped themselves to coffee. Small groups stood and chatted quietly while waiting for everyone to arrive and the meeting to begin.

The Winter King finally decided it was time to start the meeting. Normally, when he was merely assisting the person holding the meeting, this was simply a matter of waiting for the appointed time and officially announcing that everyone take their seats. Now that he was the chairman, he didn’t want to disturb the socializing (such that it was).

“I, uh, I guess we’ll get started,” he began. He allowed his mien to show. A cold down-draught wrapped him in snowflakes and emanated across the floor under the table, biting ankles. A ring of black stone hovered over his head. It shone in the fluorescent lights for a moment before it frosted over. The ice thickened and icicles slowly grew towards his unruly hair: the crown of office.

There was a general shifting and the scraping of chairs across linoleum as people took to their seats. They looked around at each other and at Less and waited for him to speak again.

“So, ah, welcome to all the Winter courtiers, old and new, to our first official meeting. You have all played a part in making Winter return to Mythic, so thank you everyone for that. This soup kitchen will be our Court, though as is custom there will be several alternates. Procedures will distributed to you all over the next few weeks that will explain the process to find where the Silent Arrow makes its mark. Now that we are a ruling Court we have risen much in station but also bear more responsibility. To ground us all in the servitude of our Duchy, I encourage you all to volunteer some time to this centre. Just as we provide safe haven for those running scared fresh from the Thorns, this place provides for the lost of mortal society. It will serve you all well to help these unfortunate mortals and listen to their stories. We are changeling but the mortal world is our salvation and so have a duty to it. And those who do spend time here, I guarantee you will never be short of the Glamour of sorrow.”

There was a smattering of chuckles.

Less continued, “We, as the Winter Court, will rule the Duchy starting in only a month’s time. There are many portfolios to cover, but there are more of us than ever before. More than even Spring so no one can complain that the tasks are not spread thinly enough. In addition to security, defense, communications and other bureaucracy, we have the Winter Market to revive and the Winter Formal to plan. So, who will be the first to step forward to accept their new responsibilities?”

Less waited. No one spoke. Loud, coarse laughter from outside of the room filled the silence. Eyes swivelled in their sockets watching for any sign of movement, of some sort of betrayal. How to metaphorically take a collective step back to leave the rookie up front and centre to take the fall? No one wanted to do so much as poke a hole in their styrofoam coffee cup in case it signalled their willingness to volunteer.

The void where the king’s heart should have been grew a little darker as the moments ticked by. Finally, he spoke again, “Really guys, if Summer’s been doing it this long it can’t be that hard!”

It was a long, frustrating night for the king. Most of the ministries had gone to members of the Bleak Seal. They were well-suited for the work but Less had hoped that Others would have taken up the reins so it didn’t look like he was handing his favours to his own intelligence organization. As the last of the Winter courtiers were leaving, Less checked the box of doughnuts but it was empty.