The next evening, the grand hall of Bloodmoor was filled with an air of anticipation. Word had spread quickly through the court—Lord Alexi was calling for a full council meeting, the first of its kind in over a century. The nobles, lesser lords, and advisors had gathered, their curiosity mingled with unease. Even those aligned with Vasilis had shown up, eager to see what Alexi’s next move would be.
Vasilis himself stood near the center of the room, surrounded by his closest supporters. His expression was one of carefully masked arrogance, his pale features calm but his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. He knew that Alexi’s hold on the court was slipping, and he intended to capitalize on it.
But Alexi had not yet played his hand.
As Alexi entered the hall, a hush fell over the assembled crowd. Dressed in dark, ceremonial robes that emphasized his authority as Lord of Bloodmoor, he cut an imposing figure, his crimson eyes surveying the room with cool detachment. Marcellus followed closely behind, his presence a reminder of the power Alexi wielded.
"Thank you all for coming," Alexi began, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "I’ve called this council together because it is time to face the truth. Our kingdom stands on the edge of war—not just with the fae, but within our own ranks. The Sanguine seek to divide us, to weaken our defenses in the face of an enemy that seeks to destroy everything we have built."
Murmurs spread through the crowd, but Alexi silenced them with a sharp glance.
"Vasilis," Alexi continued, turning his gaze directly to the leader of the Sanguine faction, "you claim to act in the best interest of our people. But in truth, you are no different from the fae Prince you would so willingly align with. You seek power at the cost of our survival."
Vasilis’s lips curled into a cold smile. "I seek only to ensure that Bloodmoor is led by someone capable of securing its future. And what future do you offer, Alexi? A lord without an heir, a ruler whose bloodline ends with him? How can you expect the court to follow you when you cannot even ensure the continuation of our kind?"
The court shifted uneasily, and Alexi knew that Vasilis’s words were striking at the heart of their doubts. But he had anticipated this. He had come prepared.
"I do not expect the court to follow me blindly," Alexi said, his voice calm but firm. "That is why I have called you here tonight. To remind you of what it means to be part of the bloodline of the first-bloods. To remind you that our power does not lie in heirs or titles, but in our connection to the past—to the ancient bloodline that made us what we are."
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With a single, fluid motion, Alexi gestured to Marcellus, who stepped forward with a small, ornate key. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Marcellus approached the grand iron door at the far end of the hall—the door that had remained sealed for centuries.
The Crimson Vault.
Whispers spread through the room as Marcellus inserted the key into the lock, turning it slowly. The heavy door creaked open, revealing the dark interior of the vault, its air thick with the scent of old magic. Inside, the flickering torchlight revealed shelves lined with ancient artifacts, their power palpable even from a distance.
"The Crimson Vault," Alexi said, his voice echoing through the hall. "A treasure trove of relics from the first-bloods. Artifacts of unimaginable power, passed down through the generations to ensure the survival of our kind. These relics are not just symbols of our past—they are the key to our future."
The court stared in awe at the relics, the whispers growing louder as the significance of the vault’s opening sank in.
"For centuries, this vault has remained sealed, its contents protected by the bloodline of the first-bloods," Alexi continued. "But now, with war on the horizon, I open it to you—to the court. These relics will be distributed to those who stand with me, to those who choose to protect Bloodmoor from the threat of the fae Prince and the Sanguine rebellion."
Vasilis’s face twisted into a sneer. "You seek to bribe the court with baubles? Trinkets from a forgotten age?"
"These are not trinkets," Alexi replied, his eyes flashing with power. "These are the weapons that built this kingdom. And they will be the weapons that save it."
The tension in the room reached a boiling point as the court waited for Vasilis’s response. But before he could speak, a figure stepped forward from the crowd—Lady Selene.
"My Lord," she said, her voice calm but filled with purpose, "I stand with you."
The room erupted into whispers once more. Lady Selene’s defection had been unexpected, but her public declaration of support was a powerful blow to Vasilis’s position.
"And I," said another voice from the back of the hall. Lord Neron, one of the lesser nobles, stepped forward, followed by several others.
One by one, members of the court began to declare their loyalty to Alexi, drawn not only by the power of the relics but by the promise of stability in the face of chaos.
Vasilis’s face darkened, his calm facade beginning to crack as he realized that the tide was turning against him. But Alexi knew that the game was not over yet. Vasilis was too proud, too dangerous, to give up without a fight.
And sure enough, as the last noble declared their allegiance, Vasilis stepped forward, his eyes burning with barely concealed fury.
"You may have swayed the court with your relics and your promises," Vasilis snarled. "But mark my words, Alexi—this is not over. The fae Prince will not be stopped by the trinkets of a forgotten age. And when he comes for you, I will be there to watch as Bloodmoor falls."
With a final sneer, Vasilis turned and stormed out of the hall, his loyalists following close behind.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Alexi allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The court had rallied to him—for now. But Vasilis’s parting words were a stark reminder that the real battle was still ahead.
The war for Bloodmoor had only just begun.