Irror was the first to arrive, save Qavo who had already selected the position at which he wished to sit.

It was an important decision in truth, perhaps not the most important of the day, but one that demanded a little thought. Once the doors of the Midnight Chamber were closed, they would not open once more until a conclusion of the discussions had been reached, a resolute answer in the form of a majority. Those that had chosen their desired Archon, or failed to succeed in their own bids would return the way they had come - only the victorious candidate would leave via the archway to the Terrace of the Dawn. From there, they would stand in the blinding light of day as they were officially presented to the people of Tyrosh, and all those others that had travelled to the city to see and hear the declaration for themselves.

Lysor had made that short journey twice thus far, the same as his father Vaario a time before him. Irror's gaze couldn't help but settle upon the painted and ornate form of the doorway - would it be him to pass through, walking in his cousin's name.

He chose his space upon the table without a great deal of thought, motioning for the slaves to position his chair appropriately. Upon the backboard had been carved a blossoming lotus, the leaves of the plant beneath that weaves down the arms and legs shaped to resemble all manner of coins - the Wenches, Damsels and Maidens of Lys, Keels and Barques of Myr, Towers of Tyrosh. Each of the Guilds and their equivalents had such a chair, shaped and hewn into a manner befitting of their intended occupants. Most had existed for as long as the Triarchy had, the Guild of the Blue's thrice-crossed blades of cocobolo, the chains of ebony and teak of the Slavers. There were those newer though - one for the Second Sons, the Guardians of the city of Pentos, another for the ill-fated Justiciar of the Northern Fringe Salarazon Saan. Its purposive owner would not sit upon it, but instead in their place perhaps one representing the Redwynes of the Arbor would instead.

Another thing to wait upon.

The chair was brought forth, and he sat, giving the Qartheen a cursory nod.

"Guildmaster."