News of Johan’s untimely death ripped through every household and business in Yakutsk. The streets of the West End were flooded with desponded men, women, and children all getting as close as they could to the senate building. Blocked off by police barricades, the burgeoning crowds didn’t dare to break past them and start a bloodbath with the authorities.
Many held homemade signs with such slogans as ‘Long Live Johan’ written in black marker, while others held grayscale portrait and pictures of him in remembrance. At first, the crowd was silent, despite being so massive, but after the coroner’s office announced the preliminary results of Johan’s autopsy, the West End’s calm morphed into suspicion.
Officially, Johan’s death was being ruled a suicide. There were no signs of struggle on his body, only the single gunshot to the roof of his mouth. For the leader of the United Pacifist Party to die so suddenly during what was the most important time of his career seemed suspicious and nonsensical to the West End. Disbelief turned into flat-out denial, and denial into rage at Osamu Ashikaga and the Yakutsk Lords. The quiet crowds began to march down the streets with their signs and slogans, their voices ringing out into the air like sirens.
They swallowed bitter, mournful tears and turned their grief into a fire in their hearts to rival that of the East End’s militant ultranationalism. As such, the police and SSK presence in the West End only increased, the violence threatening to spread to all corners of Yakutsk. Every action gave way to reaction, and the East End’s population were destined to clash with their philosophical opposites.
The dilemma put upon the vampiric race, the question of what to do about the global genocide of mankind and the political future of Minavere, was at the forefront of every conversation beneath the roofs of bars, libraries, apartment complexes, and most importantly, schools. High school and college students, the youth of Minavere, were ultimately divided on the issue. Unlike the streets of Minavere, the schools were a place where different perspectives could be debated and discussed exhaustively without any immediate threat of violence. How long that would last, however, remained to be seen.
The young men and women of Minavere that sided with Osamu began to form a new intellectual and political movement within their schools. They were easily identified by their all black uniforms consisting of black turtle necks, black corduroy pants, and black leather belts with golden buckles. The buckles depicted three lightning bolts, an homage to Lăncile de Onix and the late Cezar Dragavei. Thousands of Minavere's youth donned the sleek, black uniform of their new movement, taking Minaverian flags with them as they marched upon their campuses and made the walls of their schools tremble with the shouts of Inari's adage; fight together, die together.
Dissenting students, teachers, and hyper-observant news crews threw around several terms to label this growing student movement. They were called the revival of Lăncile de Onix, the Dragavei Party, loyalists, ultranationalists, and everything in between by the opposing side of the student body. But on this day, a massive swathe of one-thousand students took to the iced-over streets of Yakutsk to join the march against the Sommerists and anti-natalists of Minavere. Their black clothes made them impossible to miss against the pristine, white backdrop of Yakutsk's East Siberian environment. They stood like a massive, black bulwark around Lenin Square, surrounding the snow-coated statue of Vladimir Lenin.
The Russian and Sakha Republic flags surrounding the statue were cut down by the black-clad students and replaced with Minaverian flags. Facing the major street running parallel to Lenin Square, the black mass of students stood to face the sea of people before them. Some in the dense crowd shouted out Inari's adage in support of the youth movement, while other hurled venomous insults towards them and their parents, condemning them as the next generation of genocide apologists. Both sides were held back by a line armed Minaverian police, protecting the students from the riled up crowd of protestors and counter-protestors flooding the streets.
While the crowd raged beneath the benighted, Siberian sky, one of the black-clad students willingly spoke with a news crew capturing the civil unrest in the streets of Yakutsk. The student slicked his shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair behind his ears as the cameraman focused on him and the gray-haired anchor. The anchor was a tall, deep-voiced man dressed in a black suit with a white tie, a black trench coat, and a white scarf snugly wrapped around his neck. A well-known political pundit in thee Sakha Republic, he took particular interest in the rising youth movement. Never before had Yakutsk seen such strong involvement in politics from any youth group, so when he had the opportunity to investigate and prod the minds of its members for himself, he could not refuse.
He look directly into the student's hazel eyes, noticing his sharp and determined glare. He could feel the student's passion and energy just from his eyes alone. Standing just behind the police barricade, the two began their exchange as the snowdrops of Yakutsk fell upon their pale skin.
"This is Luca Shafer, here today at Lenin Square in the midst of a growing, political uprising happening right here, in the streets of Yakutsk." the anchor announced to the camera. "The crowning of new monarchs, as well as the ongoing purge of mankind has raised a plethora of questions, concerns, and ideological rifts among the population of Minavere. Today, I am speaking with Axel Magnus Hahn, the student council president at the North-Eastern Federal University. Axel, where to start...I suppose the first thing people want to know is what this youth group is and why it exists."
Axel, mere eighteen years of age, yet standing at nearly the same height as Luca, spoke in a soft, but elegant tone into his microphone. "People have labeled us with many different names, but officially, we are the Ashikagan Youth of Minavere. We owe that name to our king, Osamu Ashikaga. Our organization is aimed at galvanizing the young minds of this nation and getting them involved in the crisis Minavere finds itself in right now. Specifically, our goal is to weaponize the youth vote against the United Pacifist Party, to reject the anti-natalist commandments of the Sommerists, and to support both Osamu Ashikaga and Hima Chinagaregawa in the fight to secure a future for our people. Our group believes that the only way to come out of the Third Great Holy War alive is to move forward with a strictly Ashikganist mindset, in that humanity must either be brought to heel and forced to negotiate with us, or they must be exterminated outright."
"So, you support the genocide of mankind? Is that what you're saying?" Luca asked, a smile of disbelief on his face.
Axel nodded. "Yes. That's right."
"Don't you think it's fair to say that Osamu Ashikaga roped our people into the Third Great Holy War against our will? The people never asked to join this war, and now, with everything that's been going on, the world will realize that the instigators of this war are here in Yakutsk. To many people here, it seems like Osamu forced an impossible decision upon us without our consent. You don't revile the king for this?"
"You might see it as Osamu forcing us into a war we never asked for, and I think that's fair. However, we believe his actions were justified. Osamu is giving the vampiric race a chance that we will never see again, should we refuse it. Our people have suffered under the boot of humanity for centuries. We have long overpaid for our sins during the Second Great Holy War. Instead of giving new generations of vampires the chance to live our lives, we've been made to suffer for crimes we never committed. We're forced to bear the shame for a history we took no part in, forced to take responsibility for lives we never took, and even told that our very lives are blights upon the world. We're told not to bear children, that our people deserve to die quietly and slowly.
"The only thing Osamu forced on us is the chance to fight back. This is the only chance we will ever get to wipe humanity off the face of this earth. If we do that, there's no need for our race to live in fear or to sit here in Siberia and wait for our extinction. We can live our lives, free from collective guilt and shame. We deserve that."
"But in doing so," Luca interjected, "are you not becoming the monsters humanity fear you as?"
"When you refuse to acknowledge the personhood of an entire race, you breathe life into the monster you've fabricated. Even if we are the monster, humanity is our Frankenstein. We have no choice in the matter. Any people, any race, any person on this planet would fight for their right to exist. Yet, we're expected to fight for our own extinction? Ridiculous"
"Young man, there are billions and billions of people out there, men, women, and children, just like us, that are being murdered without fully understanding why. They're being crushed, burned alive, torn apart, melted by acid. Billions, right now, are going to die screaming because of the choices you and Osamu Ashikaga are making. What about their right to live? What about their innocence? How can you claim to be a protector of the very things you are destroying?"
"I believe our queen summarized it best; we all have the right to exist, and therefore, we cannot all exist." Axel replied. "Cultural, ethnic, and political incompatibility will always lead to conflict. It will always lead to war. Some will emerge victorious, while some will die. What Hima said is not a condemnation of different peoples or points of view, it was an observation of the historical patterns of the human race. They do not truly believe that everyone deserves to exist. We can try to avoid conflict all we want, but a clash is inevitable, and Luca, the clash is here. It's now. We're facing an enemy that has, for centuries, been hellbent on the complete eradication of our race. Even if humanity came forward and made peace with us today, how can we ensure that peace a hundred years from now? How can we ensure that the world we leave behind for our children won't revert into the hellscape we fought to change?"
"Well, sure, there's no way of ensuring something like that, but we don't have to. We have the means to ensure peace for our lifetimes. We're not gods, Axel. We can't provide a permanent solution to the world's problems. Fixing these issues is a long, collaborative process. It requires the continued education and cooperation of people across the world to achieve what you're asking for. It's not permanent, but in doing so, we don't initiate disasters like this, where billions of people are being wiped off the face of the earth."
"The problem is what's at stake if this war is lost. Bloodcraft. Inari's power is the most sought after divine regalia in all of history. If it truly can control people en masse, without them ever realizing it, then we have no reason to believe that humanity won't use it to annihilate us if it attains this power for itself. In a world where that power exists, treaties are meaningless. Even if Bloodcraft was out of the picture entirely, our survival would still depend on the eradication of the human race. Securing peace for ourselves with little regard for how it will affect the future is the same mistake our forefathers made. We will not subject our future children to the same hell we endured at the hands of our ancestors.
"Osamu Ashikaga realized that any notion of morality is irrelevant in the midst of a war of this scale. There is only circumstance. Our circumstances have put us directly at odds with a race of people that will not tolerate our existence on this planet. If they would deprive us of our right to live, then we are within our full right to deprive them of theirs. Everything we do and everything we support is so that you and I can both continue to live without the fear of humanity's viciousness.
"Instead, I would turn the question on you, Luca. Would you not agree that our people deserve to choose for themselves whether or not they wish to live or die?"
"Of course I do." Luca agreed.
"The only way we live long enough to make that choice for ourselves is if we follow Osamu Ashikaga. Otherwise, humanity will make the decision for us. Asking for Osamu to stop the genocide is akin to asking for the annihilation of Minavere at the hands of humanity. It is robbing our people of their control over their own destiny. Whether you're a Sommerist, and Ashikaganist, or anything in between, we will never live long enough to decide our own fate unless humanity is taken out of the picture.
"You said that we are ultimately supporting the destruction of the very things we claim to uphold, Luca. You may very well, be right. In my perfect world, global genocide and war would never be necessary. But when your enemy is on your doorstep with the singular goal of robbing you of all that makes life worth living, you have no choice but to either give up and die or fight to defend what is rightfully yours by the grace of god. You have to defend that which belongs to you and to those unborn. Anyone who would threaten your right to life and happiness has, in turn, forfeited their own. That is the essence of war. Osamu Ashikaga is Minavere's only hope of winning its freedom. As long as he stands aligned with our right to life, then we will stand and fight with him!"
Luca flinched as police whistles tore through the air and pierced his eardrums. The anti-genocide protestors encroached too closely towards the line of police, warranting the warning whistle. The officers brandished their shotguns, loaded with bright blue shells filled with non-lethal ammunition, to deter anyone from stepping any further. Not wanting another clash with police, the protestors stepped back, but continued hurling insults and derogatory names towards the Ashikaganist youth.
"Aside from a complete cessation of the genocide," Luca said, regathering his thoughts, "the United Pacifist Party did agree to a second plan, a compromise. It was penned by Johan Sommers just prior to his death. If that plan were to go through, the party would allow Osamu to destroy the allied forces currently at war with Osamu. He could even carry out a limited destruction of the European continent, Japan, and parts of Russia, so that Minavere wouldn't face any immediate threat from the outside world. After which, the Shoku Twins would continue acting as deterrence against the nations of the world while Minavere continued to develop its military and seize control of Russia's nuclear arsenal. Johan firmly believed that this plan would reduce the loss of life and allow the country to negotiate a peace treaty with the rest of the world. Do you and your organization support this plan?"
Axel crossed his arms as he maintained eye contact with Luca, the frigid wind of Yakutsk pulling hair wavy, brown hair in front of his face. "We think Johan had the right idea and we respect how much he was willing to compromise, but we believe this plan ultimately wouldn't work."
"But why is that? Johan's compromise allows Osamu to greatly weaken the regions in which our people have the worst history with. The people you consider your enemies wouldn't be able to fight us for decades to come, and by then, Minavere will already hold both supernatural and nuclear deterrence. The only reason why it wouldn't work is because Osamu is unwilling to have the Shoku Twins act as the nation's deterrence until that point. Why is he willing to drag us all into this war, but not willing to ensure our protection until we can stand on our own as a fully realized, militarized, and nuclear-capable country? How are we to interpret that as anything but a way of forcing us into this false dichotomy of either carrying out a global genocide, or being completely exterminated in an asymmetrical fight against humanity?"
"It isn't a false dichotomy, it's exactly what's happening!" Axel retorted. "First of all, Johan's plan requires the Shoku Twins to work in service to Minavere indefinitely. It condemns them to a life of being used as weapons rather than being treated as people. Secondly, what on earth makes you think that mankind wouldn't war against us even after a limited genocide? It's fresh reason for the world to hate us. If you're going to wipe out your enemies, then wipe them all out! Don't leave enough of them alive to gamble the future of your nation."
"But that's what I'm saying! The genocide would be fresh reason for humanity to continue hating us, the very genocide that Osamu started without our people's consent. He's trapped us in this situation and forcing our hand to make a decision we can never take back."
"You say that as if we were doing just fine beforehand, as if we weren't living under the constant threat of destruction at the hands of the Russian state, or doomed to a slow extinction as a result of Sommerist policy. What way out did we have before Osamu came here? Even if we ousted the Sommerists. how would we have freed ourselves from the Kremlin? With what help? With what military? With what deterrence? The Russians had no intention of letting us live unless they could use us as instruments of the state. We needed someone like Osamu to give our people the chance to disrupt the status quo, to give our people a fighting chance. Because of him, we can take control of our own destiny now.
"Before he came along, annihilation or euthanasia were our only real choices. Now, we have the chance to purge the world of any threat to our race, and you want him to stop only part way? Your strategy for maintaining peace in the world is to leverage the Shoku Twins and the threat of nuclear war against mankind? Technology and weaponry will keep evolving, and with it, the global power dynamic. Minavere may very well find itself on the losing side of an arms race, whether it be supernatural or nuclear. When that happens, our deterrence won't be enough to keep our people safe from war. The future of our nation will be up in the air yet again, and for what? Because of your morality?"
Luca knew very well that Johan's compromise couldn't ensure a long-lasting peace. He knew it would be temporary at best, and it relied on Minavere's deterrence to make war a lose-lose scenario for everyone involved. To him and many others in Minavere, it simply wasn't worth pursuing an option that was effective, but absent of any moral boundaries. It would've been a tacit admission there is no act too evil to commit as long as the target was deemed worthy of attack. That wasn't the world they wanted to live in, a world led by sycophantic zealots like Axel and the Ashikaganists.
"You might be right, Axel." Luca conceded. "Johan's compromise leaves a lot up in the air for the next generation to figure out for themselves. But...maybe that wouldn't be the case if the power of Bloodcraft were to be destroyed. If we took it upon ourselves to show the world that we reject the chance to wield such power, do you think they'd see us in a different light? As saviors of the world perhaps? That might be the biggest opportunity our people have of proving that we are not the bloodthirsty monsters they've reviled us as, that we've learned from history and decided to change for the better."
Axel could only laugh at the suggestion. He shook his head as he let out a disparaging chuckle. "That plan sounds like the perfect fairy tale."
"That's because you know that unless Osamu stops the genocide himself, we would need to elect someone to take his power away from him. That scenario would be unacceptable to the world at large. They would stop at nothing to prevent that from happening. Even if we tried it, the Shoku Twins would have every reason to annihilate us before humanity ever got the chance to. He's holding us all hostage, Axel. He's using the pain and anguish of our people against humanity, but he's also using humanity's fear of us and its greater fear of Bloodcraft to stoke the flames. He needs this conflict to escalate to a point of no return, otherwise his extremist goals aren't desirable to anyone."
The interview was interrupted by the thunderous chants of the Ashikaganist youths as they screamed, "Fight together, die together!"
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As the interview went on, the youths had tied braided cords and ropes around the statue of Vladimir Lenin. Once the ropes were secure around the base of the statue, some of the young men pulled with all their might as they repeated Inari's adage. After a few strong pulls, the statue began to tip forward as it separated from the base. Vladimir Lenin came falling down, smashing against the iced over concrete below. The youths erupted into lion-like roars and cheers, some of them climbing atop the empty, stone base where the statue stood and waving Minaverian flags in its place.
With that, Luca and everyone watching the broadcast had their answer. The Ashikaganists and the East End would not accept any other solution to their dilemma other than the complete eradication of their human adversaries. Any future that wasn't certain, any plan that did not guarantee the freedom of their race and their children's children was not valid to them. Even if Osamu truly was using them for his own goals, they'd let it slide as long as his ambitions did not conflict with the liberation of the vampiric race from all of its enemies. Just as he wished, Osamu had become the central figure of their revolution. He had been elevated to near mythological status, becoming an icon and a figure that represented a fierce struggle against the historical suffering of an entire race, as well as the hope of freedom and a future devoid of war.
The citizens of the Sakha Republic saw with their own eyes the radicalization of the vampiric youth, a product of centuries of war, persecution, and self-imposed anti-natalism. It was the direct result of the fallout of the Second Great Holy War and the Sommerist attempt to correct the ideological ills that lead to it. It seemed, in their noble attempt at eradicating the fascistic and ultranationalist sentiment their people, the Sommerists instilled anger, resentment, and a quiet rage within its youth, rather than the remorse, guilt, and supplication it sought to disseminate. Axel Magnus Hahn was just one youthful face in Osamu's revolution. There were thousands of other young men and women that felt Axel's same sense of urgency and justice in the matter.
Inari's adage became the warcry of a nation, while Osamu Ashikaga's very name and murderous political ideology became its lifeblood. It all came directly at odds with the isolationist and anti-natalist status quo of Yakutsk up until that point. To deter any chaos in the senate building, Osamu ordered he SSK to round up all members of the Scarlet Senate in the senate chambers, the very same place where Johan gave his speech condemning Dark Dawn. The forty-eight senators were ordered to take their seats and remain in the chambers while under the strict watch of the SSK, whose agents lined the upper levels of the chambers and were armed with assault rifles and sub-machine guns.
Osamu barged through the doors of the chamber, drawing the fearful gaze of every senator in the room. His presence hushed their whispers and turned the air in the room into an authoritative miasma. His bellowing voice echoed through the chambers like the thundering voice of a god, his frustration palpable and clear for all to hear.
“Greetings, everyone.” Osamu said, slowly marching down the steps towards the center of the aisle dividing the senate seats. “I’m sure many of you are scared and confused about what’s happening and why you’re here. I’ve come to explain. Ever since the aftermath of the Second Chechen War, Johan Sommers and his associates have been suspected of collaborating with Moscow and senior officers of the FSB.
“It was believed that Johan or someone close to him leaked the existence of this vampire safe haven to the FSB, who then used that information as leverage to force Carmilla into cooperating with them during the war. Carmilla did as Moscow asked, but threatened to expose the FSB for using the war to get a certain officer of theirs into the presidential seat. But that wasn’t the end of it. No, not even close.
“Johan, the United Pacifist Party, the parties that make up the coalition…it was all an act of subversion orchestrated in part by Russia. Recently, the SSK intercepted calls to and from Johan’s office to FSB contacts in Moscow and across Russia. These calls confirmed our suspicions. As such, I ordered the lockdown of the senate building, as well as the holding of each member of the Scarlet Senate.
“The SSK will go through every letter, every call, every email, every bit of correspondence you have made in the past year so we can find out who among you, if any, were also in collaboration with Moscow. Those found innocent will be let go and we will assume that any help you gave to Johan was done without the knowledge he was working with the FSB. Those found guilty…well, things won’t look very good for you.
“Until we root out the traitors among us, you will all remain here, in this room. You will be quiet. You will be calm. You will be patient. Is that clear?”
Met with submissive silence and averted gazes, Osamu turned around and headed for the door. Taeko waited for him on the other side, rushing to his side as he stormed down the halls.
“Osamu, tell me you had nothing to do with Johan’s death.” Taeko said.
“I have lied to you many times, Taeko.” Osamu replied. “Believe it or not, I’m actually telling you the truth now. I’m glad he bastard’s dead, but I didn’t kill him. My plan really was to come here and settle things with him, face-to-face. Now, half the city think I offed him. How’s the investigation going?”
“The police are questioning Johan’s secretary at the moment, and they’ll probably ask for Balakin and Yana soon.” Taeko explained. “Osamu, do you really think Johan committed suicide?”
Osamu stopped in his tracks and turned to face Taeko. “Do you?”
“I don’t think it makes any sense that a man as ideologically driven as Johan would end his life during such a crucial time for his people. But it doesn’t make any sense either way. The coroner’s office said there were no signs of a struggle. Say it wasn’t suicide. How could someone have murdered him, even getting close enough to put a bullet in his mouth, without him putting up any resistance?”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Osamu said. “Either way, it’ll take over a month to get the full results of Johan’s autopsy and toxicology report. Until that’s done…no, even after it…people are going to think we killed him and made it look like a suicide. It was easy to wish the man would drop dead while he was still here, but now that he’s actually done it, it’s hurting me a lot more than it hurt him.”
Their conversation was suddenly cut short by the sounds of sprinting footsteps coming towards them. Osamu and Taeko looked forward to see Hima and Annabel running to meet them, and by the looks on their faces, everyone knew things had just gotten worse.
“Osamu!” Annabel panted, bending forward to catch her breath. “It’s bad! It’s really, really bad!”
“Breathe, Annabel!” Osamu urged. “What’s the matter?”
“There’s been a shooting in the West End!” Annabel answered, her face dotted with beads of sweat.
“Not just any shooting, either.” Hima added. “Members of the Kozlov family were murdered in their home this morning. A child died too. I’ve called for a meeting at the hotel. I’ll explain more once we’re there.”
With so much going on all at once, Osamu agreed to the meeting. He had come to the senate building to put an end to Johan’s interference in his plans, but his death only served to kick Osamu’s goal further out of reach. Instead of uniting the people of Minavere by exposing the traitors working within its government, Osamu found himself at the brunt of accusations that he organized the assassination of a politician. On top of that, the worst thing imaginable had just happened; a child was killed.
Osamu, Taeko, Hima, and Annabel were driven back to their hotel by SSK agents, their plan only halfway carried out while the other half was completely bungled. Gathering in the conference space of Room 1313, Osamu and the Yakutsk Lords sat around the table with the emerald light of the aurora borealis outside reflecting off of its blackened wood.
The chandeliers above them casted a soft, orange light upon the lords, illuminating the table and everyone sitting around it while leaving the rest of the room in a dark shade of emerald green.
“First, Johan turns up dead,” Annabel began, “and then the Kozlovs are murdered in their home the very next day. Needless to say, this is only going to ramp up suspicions that we’re assassinating our enemies.”
“It’s all over the news.” Borislav said, leaning back in his chair. “Instead of deflating the West End, I think this might actually invigorate them to fight back against the East End.”
“I’m sorry…” Osamu interjected. “I don’t understand why the Kozlovs are so important. Who were they?”
“One of the wealthiest families in Yakutsk.” Hima said, her hands tented on the table. “They were Johan Sommers’s biggest donors and they had a good relationship with the local police around here. For them to die like this just a day after Johan was found dead…”
“Even stranger than the timing and manner of their deaths is the perpetrator behind it.” Carmilla interjected, crossing her legs. “The woman who killed them was Yura Sasuni. Apparently, Yura was a seemingly down-to-earth, kind, and compassionate neighbor who loved going on walks and helping people. No one expected her to do something so horrific. She has no criminal history, not even a parking ticket in her name. The only thing we could dig up on her was that she attended therapy for twenty years after her husband’s death a century ago.”
“But to target the Kozlovs wasn’t just a random act of violence, right?” Anya asked, her blonde hair tied into a ponytail. “There had to have been a motive.”
“We don’t know her motive yet.” Carmilla said, her eyes beaming with frustration. “An innocent family has been killed and a child is dead. That alone is enough to enrage a populace, but considering their relationship with Johan and the parties that formed the coalition, it’s no wonder people are beginning to think we’re wiping out our opponents.”
Nastasia sat with her arms crossed and eyes closed, her consternation palpable even through her raven veil. “It can’t all just be a coincidence. We’re playing without a full deck here. We need more information.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Hima said. “I’ll spare some of the SSK to scour through the Kozlov family home, as well as Yura Sasuni’s. If we could just find some clue as to why Yura targeted them, maybe we can start making sense of all this. Nastasia, I want you to help investigate the Kozlov home, and I want Borya to look through Yura’s place.
“Loud and clear, Your Highness.” Borya said with an obedient nod.
“Anya, I want you to pull Yura’s psychiatric records and look through them.” Hima ordered. If she didn’t have a motive, it’s likely her mental illness got the worst of her in the years she went without therapy.”
“As you wish.” Anya said.
“Did the Kozlovs have any relatives here?” Taeko questioned.
“Peter Kozlov’s aunt and uncle live here.” Carmilla answered. “I don’t know how willing they are to speak to authorities, but I may as well try.”
Hima leaned back in her chair and released a tired sigh. “This is all we can do right now. Let’s try our best, everyone.”
As the Yakutsk Lords stood from their seats and rushed off to fulfill their duties, Osamu remained seated, his gaze sinking to his lap. His original plan was squashed and thrown out the window, and everything had unfolded in a way that left him unable to do anything about the public’s rage. With half the city suspicious he had a hand in the deaths of Johan Sommers and the Kozlovs, there was no way for him to bring the people of the West End on his side of the genocide issue.
(Damn it. If things keep going the way they are, I might actually have to manipulate Minavere en masse. But…that’ll be tricky. Unless I can take control of everyone here at the same time, it’ll be obvious that I’m using my powers to manipulate people. Hima confirmed my powers to this entire city in her founding speech. I wish she didn’t do that, but telling everyone about Bloodcraft was probably the best way to convince them we’d be able to win this war in the first place. This whole thing is a stain on my regime. If we don’t clear this up soon, I’ll likely have a revolt on my hands.)
Nastasia was driven by the SSK to the Kozlov family home. The entire property was swarming with investigators in thick, black coats and ushankas atop their heads. The bodies had already been removed from the scene, but the pools of blood where each victim died remained suffused to the tile downstairs and the carpet upstairs.
Investigators collected Yura’s gun and the bullet casings ejected from its chamber. Nastasia inspected the front door, as well as all of the windows on the first floor. To her surprise, there was no sign of forced entry. Considering where Peter Kozlov was killed in the house, it was apparent that he let Yura in and only realized later that she was armed.
She entered the dining room, seeing three plates full of pancakes topped with cream cheese and blackberry jam.
“They had only just started eating breakfast when it happened…” Nastasia deduced.
Nastasia went through every item in every downstairs room, going through cabinets, pantries, and coat closets. Her search took her upstairs into Anton’s room. Several of his school notebooks lied on top of his unmade bed, partially shrouded by his blue blanket. Nastasia flipped through the papers of each notebook, finding only basic math problems, notes from history class, and drawings of stick figures racing each other in toy cars across a landscape of multiplication tables.
Anton’s room was everything you’d expect a boy’s room to be like, complete with an arsenal of baseball bats, a pair of ice skates, and a miniature electric guitar. The search around the Kozlov home seemed fruitless, but there was just one room left to check; the master bedroom. Photos of Peter and his family sat atop the nightstand on his side of the bed, right next to a silver, golden luxury watch and several golden bracelets. His wife had a planner on her nightstand, as well as a pair of reading glasses and a cloth used to clean them. Nastasia opened the nightstand drawer and found exactly what she expected; more completely ordinary items.
Frustrated beyond belief, Nastasia let out a vexed groan and plopped down on the side of the bed, hoping to take a second to rest and give the house a second comb-through. When she sat down, however, she felt something hard and flat beneath the mattress. She quickly got up and lifted the mattress, spotting a large, leather-bound book.
It didn’t have a title or anything on the front or back covers. Nastasia opened the book and found pictures of the Kozlov family. There were photos of Peter and his wife holding a newborn Anton, pictures of the Siberian landscape, pictures of Peter and his wife embracing, kissing, and holding hands years before they had Anton. As she flipped further through the photo book, Nastasia noticed the same, curious detail that Anton once did. The names of the family members depicted changed from Kozlov to Dragavei.
Nastasia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise upon seeing the portraits of Cezar and Anna Dragavei. “Oh my god…”
Nastasia ran downstairs with the photo book in her right hand and her cell phone held to her left ear. She raced outside and hopped in the backseat of the black SUV she was driven in. Her two drivers looked back at her with their eyes wide with surprise. Nastasia’s urgency could be felt from a mile away.
“Drive us to Yura’s place! I need to meet Borya!” Nastasia ordered as she waited for Carmilla to pick up the phone.
After a few rings, Carmilla picked up and answered. “What did you find, Nastasia?”
“Carmilla, you won’t believe this. The Kozlovs were members of the Dragavei family.” Nastasia answered.
“Dragavei?” Carmilla recoiled. “What makes you so sure?”
“I found a family photo book in the house. Peter is one of Cezar Dragavei’s sons. Turns out we’ve had members of the Dragavei family living here this whole time.”
“I knew we had remnants of Lăncile de Onix present in the East End, but I never expected for any of the Dragavei to actually be living here. I thought they lived in Romania.”
“There’s something else, Carmilla. Johan Sommers is in some of these portraits with Cezar. According to this, those two founded Lăncile de Onix together.”
Carmilla paused as she tried to process what she just heard. “Johan…one of our strongest opponents…co-founded an ultranationalist secret society?”
“Yeah, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I’m looking right at their portraits. Carmilla, I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no denying these deaths aren’t a coincidence. Something happened that triggered all of this. I’m on my way to Yura’s place to see what Borya’s found out.”
“Okay, keep me updated.” Carmilla said.
Carmilla sat in the backseat of an SSK SUV, staring out the window in deep contemplation. The more she found out about the deaths of Johan and the Kozlovs, the less she really knew. Johan, a staunch opponent to restorationist and nationalist movements, the man who extolled pacifism and isolationism above all, turned out to be the co-founder of an ultranationalist secret society, while members of the Dragavei had separated from their patriotic household and took up refuge in Yakutsk, siding with Johan and his allies.
Everything was completely backwards, upside-down, and inside-out. A sudden call from Anya startled her out of her train of thought. Carmilla put the phone to her ear, hoping for some good news.
“What is it, Anya?”
“So, my team and I got access to Yura’s medical records.” Anya sputtered, racing through her words. “We’ve been looking through everything for the past few hours. Is now a good time?”
“Calm down, Anya. Start from the beginning.” Carmilla said.
“Okay, okay…” Anya sighed, collecting her thoughts. “Yura started taking therapy after her husband’s death in 1915. Around that same time, she was also diagnosed with schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder. Looking through the notes, it seems like her husband’s death had a profound effect on her.”
“What happened to him, might I ask?”
“Well, according to the notes, Yura’s husband, mother-in-law, and all of their children were killed in Romania after fleeing from the Ottoman Empire. The husband’s side of the family were ethnic Armenians.”
Carmilla’s eyes lit up with stunned awe. She sat up in the back of the car, the fine hairs on her arms electrified and standing straight. “Wait, stop! Say that again, Anya!”
“Huh?” Anya recoiled. “Uhm, the husband’s side of the family were ethnic Armenians. They were killed in Romania in 1915. Yura said they were all shot in a refugee camp.”
The year, country, and manner of death all lined up. Carmilla’s eyes narrowed as she began to piece together the puzzle in her head.
“Anya,” Carmilla said, “I think we may have found the motive behind the killing. The Dragavei family was involved in the incident that killed dozens of Armenian refugees. It’s possible Yura might’ve discovered who the Kozlovs really were and snapped.”
“Nastasia’s intuition was right…” Anya gasped. “So this really isn’t a coincidence. But…how would Yura have found this out? Even we didn’t know who the Kozlovs really were.”
“Nastasia found a family record in the house proving the connection.” Carmilla said. “Other than that, I don’t know how Yura would’ve known. I’m on my way to meet with the other Kozlovs now. Let’s hope we can find out more about this. In the meantime, keep looking through Yura’s records and let me know if anything sticks out.”
“Okay, will do.”
Carmilla let out a loud, exhausted groan the minute she hung up the phone with Anya. The SSK agents driving her looked back in fright, thinking she was in some sort of pain or in the middle of a medical emergency. Their panic quickly subsided when they turned and saw Carmilla’s reddened face hot with vexation and overthinking. Her brain was running wild like an overclocked CPU. Anya’s call answered some of her burning questions, but it also served to open up even more.
With physical evidence of the Kozlov’s identity, there were multiple ways Yura could’ve possibly figured out the connection between them and the Dragavei. Carmilla knew it was unlikely that anyone within the family would’ve disclosed that connection if they went though the trouble of changing their names to hide it in the first place. As much as she and the other Yakutsk Lords were finding out, they were still playing with a limited hand of cards. They had no reason to assume that Anton was the key to unleashing all the chaos before them, nor that a particularly cunning man was able to manipulate the boy into dooming Johan, his family, and himself to death.
Her mind spinning like an endless carousel, Carmilla zoned out for the rest of the car ride. Before she knew it, SUV came to a stop in front of a white, three-story apartment complex tucked away on a quiet, residential street. It was an old, Soviet-era building with chipped, flaking paint fluttering in the frigid, Siberian breeze.
“Stay here.” Carmilla ordered. “I’ll go in alone.”
“Are you sure, Ma’am?” one of the agents questioned, taken aback.
“These people have to bury three family members.” Carmilla said, stepping out through the car door. “The last thing they need to see are two armed agents in their home.”
Carmilla entered the apartment complex, sauntering through the narrow, tiled halls on the first floor and stopping at the front door of Unit 31. She rang the doorbell and stepped back, watching the shifting, green light of the aurora borealis reflect off the white tiles. Hearing the door unlock, she snapped her gaze forward and took a single, shallow breath. She was greeted by a middle-aged woman with bright, blonde hair and oceanic, blue eyes. She wore a long-sleeve shirt with horizontal black and white stripes and an orange puff jacket over it. Her eyes were swollen and red with heartache at the tragic deaths of Peter and his family.
Carmilla bowed her head and spoke with a soft, empathetic tone. “Good morning, Irina.”
“Lord Carmilla…” Irina recoiled.
“I’m terribly sorry for your loss. The incident comes as a shock to us all. I apologize for the intrusion, but I was hoping to speak to you and your husband, Joseph. There’s a big investigation underway and we’re trying to gather as much information as we can.”
Irina nodded with a blank expression on her face. “Oh, of course. Please, come in. I’ll fetch you some tea.”
Carmilla stepped inside, taking off her boots at the door. The living room had a simple layout, with a small couch on one side of a rectangular, glass table and two loveseats facing the opposite corners. Irina’s husband sat on the couch with a hunched back and tears staining his white, knit sweater. He swept his short brown hair back with his hand as he stood and straightened his posture for Carmilla.
“Lord Carmilla, it’s an honor.” Joseph said with a dour expression. “I didn’t know you’d be coming. I hope this isn’t a problem, Hannes.”
The air was nearly sucked out Carmilla’s lungs upon seeing Hannes. She recognized him as Johan’s son, but she never thought he’d be visiting the surviving Kozlovs. Little did she know she was sitting with the man that unleashed all of this chaos in the first place. When Hannes moved his mouth to speak, cities burned and people fell into despair without ever realizing it. When he moved his fingers, he command the tides of weal and woe and sunk everyone beneath its crashing waves.
Sitting before Carmilla and the Kozlovs was that man that engineered the deaths of Anton Kozlov and his parents, and none of them even suspected it. If they had, they might’ve been inclined to vomit at the sheer audacity he had to console the family he had inflicted such terrible tragedy upon. There before them was a serpent in the garden, wearing the skin of handsome, blonde-haired, blue-eyed devil.
Hannes smile as he put down his tea, the light of the aurora borealis splashing into the living room and outlining his figure in an emerald glow. “Oh, it’s no issue at all.”
Crossing his legs and sitting back in his seat, Hannes tented his fingers. “It’s good to see you, Lord Carmilla. Will you be joining us today?”