"...And then Talos declared that the figs were the tastiest he had tasted, and that being so, he would settle his house here," the Reciter repeated. "And this being so, there was great rejoicing, and great celebration, and great eating of smoked meats...."
The Ancients grumbled among themselves. At length one of them raised his hand. "Couldn't we skip this bit?" he asked.
Several other members nodded enthusiastically. "We always used to," one noted. "Just declared 'remember the deeds of great Talos' and moved on."
The enthusiastic nods were joined by favorable murmurs.
The new Master of the Yellow coughed and stood to his feet. "I know I have not been long a member here, and thus humbly beg apologies if I presume," he declared in confident tones that presumed a great deal, "but would this not be an example of exactly what was wrong with the Council of Ancients in the past? We all of us, from the Outer Hall to the Inner Circle, forgot and passed over the grand traditions of our forebears, and in so doing, forgot the gods to whom we owe all. And this has made so much ill possible." He turned to the Reciter. "And so I say, for myself, read the deeds of Great Talos in full! Leave out not one jot, not one tittle. Read them all, so we revel in the glory and the holy word." He sat back down. "Well, go on," he said to the Reciter, who stood there looking puzzled. "Read."
The Reciter nodded and began anew. "...And pickled fruits, and yea, fine wine and good olives. And the men and women danced and made merry, and their clothes were of silk, and gold, and fine linen, and..."
The Ancients groaned among themselves. One glanced at his fellow. "I miss the old Master of the Yellow. He wouldn't have put up with this."
The other Ancient hushed him, and then turned back to feign attention to the lengthy description of the people's footwear that the Reciter was beginning.
"Well, he wouldn't have," muttered the disappointed Ancient.