22th of Zun’s Awakening, year 984:

“You are the new maid, yes?” Tried to confirm the head butler of the Waterfall Household, a county of the western Duchy of the Empire, as he read her letter of recommendation, a blank paper seemed just right to his eyes.

“The very same.” Her charming smile made the butler’s heart flutter. His gaze lost itself in her red eyes.

If only the butler could read minds he would have realised this vampire would be the downfall of their house.

‘Eve is too soft to do what needs to be done. Losing herself into a goose chase for some inexistent magic is enough proof. But she will grow. So, until she is ready to take command. I will build her the Empire we deserve. The first step will be bewitching the western Duchy. For what human can resist the promise of immortality?’

As she met the countess, her lustful, badly hidden gazes were plainly in sight. There was no love with her husband, as she had needed to marry to produce offspring. She would gladly oblique her ignited love. The Waterfalls were a potent merchant Household after all. Their connections would be of great help to build an army.

The countess wasn’t that ugly for a human either.

……….

Marc grovelled on the ground, shame not existing inside him. He had come as quickly as he had been able to deal with the problem. ‘The damned Prelates held me in those meaningless ceremonies to make me act the disposable piece?! After all my damned loyalty?!’ “It was my inability to control my brethren from the Inquisition. Your last…”

“Mine what?”

His speech hastened, panic started to flourish inside him. “The stupidity of the clergy devoted to Elenia has caused them to act like fools, our Highest Majesty.” Her private chambers, worth more than some cities and filled to the brim with all the comforts in the room, seemed to him like a torture chamber specially designed for him. The coaches, the mattresses, the end tables and wardrobes were laughing at him, as if telling him that they were worth more than him.

Her silence was another nail in his coffin, making him pale.

“They managed to bribe High Inquisitors, leaving our Tower dramatically undefended! I couldn’t…”

“Finally. After babbling on and on with your excuses, you have finally said you. You are the one who failed me.”

Marc’s form almost melted into the ground. His voice cracked. “Ye…yes, our Eternal Fire.”

“You have cost the Empire technology with an incalculable cost. Untiring workers, miners. We could have reached a golden era. And what did you do with this opportunity?”

“I destroyed it with my own hands, Daughter of the Fenix.” He whispered.

“And why?” Her voice hadn’t faltered one bit, never changing from an uninterested tone, something that was creeping Marc out.

“Because I am a prideful fool, unworthy of breathing the very air near you.” His face dropped into a pained grimace. He knew what she would say next.

“So, why do you keep breathing it?” Words muttered as an afterthought, devoid of anything more than superfluous curiosity. For Marc, they were a death sentence, his.

“It…it was my failure alone, our Eternal Everwatcher! My…my brethren and men were on other, weren’t, shouldn’t!...” He blundered, not knowing what to say to lessen the punishment on his troops.

“It was just a wandering thought that happened to escape my mouth, High Inquisitor.” She smirked, not that the trembling Marc wouldn’t have the courage, or recklessness, to look up. “I would never punish you so harshly for your first and last failure. And, did anything happen after all? You executed the prisoner flawlessly after all.”

Seeing his saving rope fall from the ocean of her wraith, he nodded several times, hitting the carpeted ground so hard he would have a bruise later.

“Now, you only need to complete your work. Locate the undead that refuse to be beneath our sight and purify your brethren out of unsuitable High Inquisitors. I am sure you are up for the task, Prelate Marc.”

Marc froze. ‘Am I being, promoted?’

“Yes, you are. I took you for someone more quick on the uptake.” Valcra’s tone softened. “You are loyal to your position and know your place. Lastly, you have shown me you are worthy of my trust. You came to report your failure, not hide it like dozens of my vassals. Look up, Prelate Marc, you should show dignity akin to your new position.”

Mark rose to a kneeling position.

“Clean of filth the Inquisition. It has been long since the last purge. Do a good enough job and this issue will be a stone on the side road. We never had a desire nor a will to create undead workers after all. The bastard’s dead and nothing will change that.”

Her eyes turned cold again, causing Marc to pale just as he was regaining colour.

“However. Betray my expectations again, and I will order you to purge your brethren and soldiers by your own hand. Let it be a warning.”

Marc gulped, “I will take it to heart, our Guiding Light.”

Once Marc left, she laid on her luxurious bed, made from silk from the orc plantations at the button of the continent. ‘A prideful fool. Loyal nonetheless.’ Her gaze turned to the window. ‘Only a month left before I can declare Jacob a duke-regent. The western duchy has been getting more and more rebellious too. After I marry him I will appoint someone from the Windfellers, that ought to shut her up, not that she deserves such consideration. Duchess Kiram is as trustworthy as a rat.’

Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind. After a few minutes she left her chambers. She had work to do. The invasion of the north east of the continent waited for no one.

……..

Heiress Maliz moved, uncomfortable in the tavern stool. Her dark and simple cloak danced with her, it's engraved enchantments invisible to the naked eye.

“I could have never expected him to break out on his own. This failure is mine to shoulder.” Finished Kraus. Their impersonation of Inquisitors had gone way smoother than expected, but the fight breaking outside had slowed them too much.

“That’s how Dice chose things to go. Return to your position as my knight for now.” Answered Maliz. That would put a dent in the new plans of her mother.

Kraus nodded and escorted her back to their castle.

Once there, she entered the throne room without a care, not minding that her mother was currently in a meeting with the new pope. Sitting on her throne, she listened as if it didn’t go with her.

Stolen story; please report.

“Are you willing to give us the right to act as judges freely?” Asked Sorak, pope of the new Elenia’s cult. Suspicion apparent in her tone.

“Wasn’t your order who asked, your Holiness? I believe you would make great judges and executioners.” Duchess Simil, properly sitting on her throne. “I agree with the old Duchess in some things. And the need to separate the judicial power is one of those. If we, the nobility, are subject to no laws, how can we cull the useless and hedonists of our ranks?” Simil spoke relaxed, as only her most loyal knights were with her. The Imperial scum had been cleared neatly enough. Larra’s insurrection had been a warning, one she had taken to heart. No longer would they be an underdog. If the Empire wanted them down, she would throw them deeper. Only the new nobles remained a problem, a problem that this new church would fix for her, as they had been overzealous in securing their rule. “You do have the manpower, right?”

Sorak nodded, pride bathing her next words. “Our paladins are eager to implement true justice in the North, yes. But I worry about the possible repercussions. Will our Ladies really accept our new power?”

“They will. It is my word, after all.” A bit of doubt gnawed at the back of her head. The forces that Sorak had brought with her were brimming with energy and decisiveness. But that wasn’t always a good thing. They were a sword that could easily change targets based on their subjective justice and fairness. ‘They are too idealistic…I will expect more friction with the nobles. Still, the Households have seen enough fight for now, they will voice their complaints, sure, but nothing else.’ She would work around it, for a clean upper echelon would oil their economy. A decent and skilled leadership is desirable after all.

Sorak nodded. “About the material support…”

Simil waved his hand, “The donations will keep going to the church of Elenia. Yours, to be precise. Do not worry about that.”

“Lastly. Are you sure about the neutrality?”

“Yes, and this is a command, High Paladin Sorak.”

Sorak nodded again and, giving her farewells, left.

“That’s a dangerous pawn you are trying to put on the board, mother.” Started Maliz. “She can turn around and check you. And, now a pope? Gods’ realms, a fallen noblewoman no less.”

Her mother nodded, “But she is a suitable one. I reassure you, I will treat her as no puppet. She will do a fine job as my vassal. The pope part was an excuse. Her pride, while big, won’t play a part in her decision making.”

‘A greater threat.’ Shaking her head, she continued, “Talking about dangerous vassals.” Maliz continued. “Will you really declare Soral of the Ashen as your steward?”

“She has shown remarkable talent with her skill set. I would have made her a countess too if I didn’t want to toy with the will of the cursed Empres.”

“Is it wise? I do find her palatable, even after all she and her regent did. However, even if we were allies of convenience, pushing it further could spark more attention to us from the central provinces. There’s also the unresolved undead matter. I do believe you are pushing our ambitions out into the open for whoever wants to look.”

“Have you heard the rumours going around the Tower?” Stabbed Simil back.

“How could I have?” The smirk of Maliz revealed nothing. She caught the hint and stopped playing with fire. She had done worse.

A proud nod, “Then you already know. They will be very busy killing themselves in our territory to do their usual duties. I will enforce our neutrality. Let them bathe our cities in their own blood, once they wound themselves enough we will kick them out.”

“That makes me brood onto the other way. Will the undead do something while our guard is down?” A hint of worry came to her voice. They had saved her life, yes. With stupendous and unbelievable violence. A true army. Untiring, fearless. A chill ran over her back.

“You know more about those things than me.”

Maliz repositioned herself in the throne. After a while, “If they attack anywhere, it would be into the heartlands of the Empire. We would be the last targets, I believe.”

“So more good news. I will have my hands full managing our realm. Keep recollecting the rumours, Spymaster.”

“As you wish.”

……….

Soral rubbed her forehead. Tiredness from both her training and the overwhelming quantity of paperwork tying her to her chair. While her new position came with the control over the flow of money over the whole North, it was a heavy responsibility. One she could not fail as it risked the lives of her fellow countrymen. She had started to widely implement the Albestus four-course system, while also petitioning Duchess Simil for an unified penal system. On top of all that, her responsibilities as Baroness still stood. The design of the second city was demonstrating backbreaking work, and her bureaucrats, while still helping her, were still lacking in number.

A knock on her door made her jump. She opened her mouth but no sound came. Coughing, she tried again.

“Come in.” Her emotions tried to overpower her, and her index finger started to hammer the table.

Andras, without a helmet, entered somberly into her office.

“My Lady, I am back.” His nod conveyed his advanced age. Soral had never felt him as old as today, but that awareness quickly left her mind as she realised he had entered alone.

“I…I can see that.” The questions she wanted to scream revealed themselves in her eyes, and she let her hands drop the quill so as to not break it. “How was your vacation?” An illusion of level headedness.

“I…” Andras stopped. He breathed in and, standing now tall and puffing out his chest, which dressed a dented chestplate, he addressed the point. “Your brother is dead.”

“...” A knock in her throat threatened to crack her words. Willing herself stronger, she tried to ask again, “How did he die?”

“Like the man he was once before.” Andras’ eyes grew wet, but no tears fell. Nostalgia made his tone soften. “He saved my life, at the cost of his. We can be proud for, in the end, he went with honour to the lands beyond.”

“If he came back, why did he have to go?” Those simple words spoken by a girl who couldn’t keep her tears in check tore Andras' heart out.

Soral started sobbing, propelling Andras forward. It had been long since he had given a hug, and long since she had received one.

This was the only thing Andras felt he could do. He would not berate himself nor fall into self pity when the sister of his old friend needed him. He hugged her tighter, her not minding the cold and rough surface of his armour as she cried her regrets out.

When Soral stopped crying Andras backed away.

“Will you resume your duties?” Asked Soral.

“Until you diminish me, my lady.”

……….

Sigtu had almost fallen asleep on the counter. His store dealt with miscellaneous things. Rope, oil, fuel, supplies, rations,... a thing that, in spring, saw a spike in demand. Nevertheless, not all days could be lucky ones, and today he had yet to see a customer. Just as he yawned, thinking about closing for today, the door opened.

A lass strolled in as casually as one does in their own home. Her scowl of anger did little to diminish her ethereal beauty. Her long, white hair was like a snaring mirage, drawing him in.

“I want climbing supplies. And a map.” She hissed.

Sigtu almost fell out of his chair in his haste to comply. Once he put more than enough on top of the counter, together with the best map he had, the reward he received was seeing her back as she left the store without looking back. Falling back on the stool, he only realised half an hour later that she hadn’t paid.

“Is that all you need, Lady Ashen?” Asked Vamir, having waited outside the store.

“What more would you want?”

“...food?”

“We will find food along the way. Thugs roam free on these lands after all.”

“I see.”

Once out of town they were joined by the other two vampires. Searching for a suitable rock, Eve laid the maps she had collected on her way here. The total lack of superficial or discovered ruins was too artificial to be real. She guessed that the humans had wiped everything that could be seen, either letting it root and sink, or just by demolishing it themselves. ‘Something will remain…How would they know where they destroyed them to be able to hide or guard those areas?’. Her keen eyes soon detected anomalies on the civilian, worse, maps. Some areas would be painted with too little detail if compared to the surrounding zones, as if they had been altered to lose quality, trying to say ‘there’s nothing out of the ordinary here.’. ‘Thank the humans for their foolishness. Only the best maps are correctly edited out. Some have different geological formations even.’.

Noticing a nearby anomaly, she picked up the maps. “Vamir, Jess, Palma. Let’s go back to the cave. We will leave tomorrow.”

The four of them melted into the shadows and dropped from them inside an icy cave, kept cold by ice magic. Inside reside their base, more a safe place to hold their material possessions than anything. There resided the zombie of Noct, trapped in its ice cube.

Incapable of moving, it had simply stopped acting, not able to flex its muscles, see, hear or smell. And, just the same, the soul that had been enslaved by the necromantic energies resided in yet another cage. At least now had the illusion of control over its body, having almost been broken by the crushing sense of claustrophobia when his body had moved without its permission. Incapable of sleeping, the soul could only reminisce about its feelings, trying to stave off the existential dread of knowing its fate. Noct couldn’t even beg for true death now.

………...