Gelehrter rose to his feet. The bed was comfortable, almost unbearably so. His hand rested onto his forehead as he took a moment to focus onto his well being.

His muscles felt unusually tense, the scent in the air sweet. Ana's room was desolate, save for a few items she kept from her adopted father. A minimalist's chamber with only a bed, a table and a small basket for her clothing.

He stood upright and fumbled about in the darkness. After a small effort, he pulled a shirt, his gambeson, pants, belt and boots onto his frame. Gelehrter glanced over to the bed once again. The blankets gently rose and fell, the shape of Ana's sleeping form caused him to smile.

“Do not tarry, you have places to be.” Ernald's voice boomed in his mind.

He shook his head and merely stared at Ana's frame. The night before seemed as if it were another time, another place. Having endured the nuances of the Lower Sector, his mind struggled to placate him into believing he had spent the night with her.

And yet, here he stood. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagine taking the first step into her life, only to march out onto the fields of battle. Political or otherwise, his departure into the realm of Sanctuary felt final.

He found himself at a loss and quietly padded out of the room. The house he had come and gone through during his youth appeared smaller than it has ever been. Various items were cataloged, labeled and set aside. Some crates were covered in soot covered hand prints while others were unusually clean. As he entered into the kitchen and then the forge, he retrieved his blade.

The door behind him creaked open and the scent of coffee caused him to turn to the source. Ana padded stealthily behind him, her hand extending a mug. She avoided his gaze and stared at the dead forge. Outside, the windows revealed the early hours of the morning. A horizon which betrayed their sense of time.

Her emerald hues finally met his as she sipped at her mug. She had garbed herself in her usual attire: a shirt, pants, boots and an apron. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, a stark contrast to her hair being loosely bound by two strips of ribbon.

“Where are you off to?” She asked, though in her heart an answer would be as vague as it normally would be.

“I am going to report to Gavilis. I imagine he would be elated to know I have returned and would pick my brain for any further information. The Lower Sector has not been documented for some time...” He trailed off, lost in thought for a few moments.

“I understand, you don't have to tell me everything.” She smiled sadly.

“I-Its...not like I don't want to share with you what I know. Its just...”

“You are a Justicar. I am a smith. We both live very different lives. I create tools for destruction and you wield them to ensure we are all safe.” Ana surmised and took a moment to shovel coals into the forge. “Help me with this before you go.”

He busied himself with scraping the ashes into a stained bag. As he heaved it over his shoulder and into the training yard, the forge roared into life.

Gelehrter entered into the forge once again and spotted her resting an unfinished blade nearby while the forge continued to rise in temperature. She pulled harshly on the bellows in a rhythmic fashion and sweat already beaded across her brow.

As he approached, her ill-tempered expression softened. He gently placed a kiss onto her cheek and then turned to leave.

“Please be careful...” She whispered.

The cool morning air caused him to shiver involuntarily and he shook his head. Though it took only moments for him to acclimate, he found himself waiting for something.

Ana's hammer rang with renewed fervor. He walked away from the smithy and headed in the general direction of the Citadel. The tower loomed overhead into the heavens, gazing down at the denizens of Sanctuary. In the Market District, merchants were hastily setting up their shops and taking stock. Soldiers belonging to either noble houses, or the Templarate, appeared to wander groggily in the direction of the Citadel. He padded along them and dodged a carriage, horses and other livestock. In the wee hours of the morning, he witnessed Sanctuary awaken.

Several of the Templarate were relieving one another near the entrance of the Citadel. Aristocrats of all races, shapes and sizes lined up as they presented their identification cards. Being a Justicar, he activated his Blessed Star as he neared. Stationed men addressed him with respect and reverence.

He merely nodded or murmured a response. Blending into the crowd, he attempted to make himself as small as possible. The gigantic chamber which allowed for gathering of personnel and final mission preparation seemed much smaller. He took a glance around and then found the entrance to a lift. He merely waited and slipped in with a crowd entering shortly afterward. The tiny box shook violently as it carried its passengers to their destination. A bell chimed overhead as he exited it behind the procession and into the hallway.

Its grandiose design fulfilled its purpose. Traffic flowed like water down a stream, two currents going in their respective directions. As he ventured into the beyond, he shook his head as torch sconces appeared from nowhere. Their haunting white flames renewed their horrific reign before they were swept away in the waters of the procession.

Gelehrter entered into the Council Chambers shortly afterward. The circular expanse was filling with people who faced the arena in the center, their expressions grim.

He glanced across the way to Ovelia, Arden, Rena and Gavilis. The trio were situated in their positions in accordance with Sanctuarian Law. Ovelia, the Sanguine Overlord, resting in the Eternal Throne, peered down at the procession which filled the chamber. Arden stood at Ovelia's right hand, the young heir taking stock of various Templarate soldiers who entered. Rena stood nearby, lower than Arden, Gavilis and Ovelia, almost concealed by the walls behind the throne. Gavilis, acting as Knight Undying, stood in front of his place and observed the crowd pouring in. He spotted Gelehrter and offered a nod of recognition.

Gelehrter caught Arden, Rena and Ovelia also glancing in his direction. They disguised their familiarity with an insignificant nod.

Ovelia stood upright and raised her hands solemnly as the crowed had taken their seats. She bowed her head, the masses standing upright. Surrounding the chamber, all Justicar—including Ovelia, Arden and Gavilis—activated their Blessed Star of Sanctuary if it hadn't been already. Their bodies shimmered for an instant as the dark armor stitched itself over their clothes. A low hum echoed in unison within the Council Chambers as Ovelia led the prayer.

“'O, Sanctuary and the Holy Father, guide us in your divine light. May our minds be unclouded and our bodies free of disdain, for we are but humble servants within your kingdom.'” As she recited the prayer, the congregation answered her.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“'O, Sanctuary and the Holy Father, guide us!'”

“Amen. The Council is now in session. All concerns, no matter how small, will be brought to light. Let any take the floor!” Ovelia commanded.

“I shall take the floor, my Overlord.” A voice called. Accalia's platinum hair dazzled the on-lookers as she took the center of the arena. Her stark sapphire eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, her dress flowing like water. She padded quietly to her position and snapped her fingers.

The chamber hummed with low murmurs. A vampire, chained by the neck, wrists, and ankles, was dragged nearby into the arena. Her body was bereft of clothing, the humiliation taking shape in her visage. Templarate soldiers surrounded her while another tended to the chains, heaving her about like garbage. Her crimson eyes glanced about weakly before they settled onto Arden, Rena, Gelehrter and Gavilis. Then she glanced to Ovelia, as if hoping in desperation for any sign of pity.

“I bring to you our enemy. She is stripped bare, as you can see. Though it pains me to bring this upon you, but we have lived in fear our entire lives. Many of us for lifetimes. We cannot go see our friend during the night for fear of being attacked by these bloodsuckers, nor can we hope to ever take our dying to care should they be hurt at night. Nay, our walls are aligned with machinations which seek out malignant intent, whether from our own or them, and will fire upon our own kith and kin.” Accalia began and allowed an instant for the reality to be brought to light. “What use is it to live like livestock. A dwarf is strong and hearty, yet cowers in the face of these bipeds. An elf is eloquent and majestic, yet flees in lieu of engagement with these monsters. Humans, lesser or otherwise, try to escape with their lives. Great noble houses crumble when a vampire enters their wake. House Mortem has only allowed us to survive when we would instead be walking abominations. Will you aid us in war with these despicable beings?”

“My Overlord, please...if I may.” A noble stood upright, facing Ovelia as he spoke.

Ovelia deigned her attention.

“As many of us would like to know...where does House Delacroix sit in this situation? Those who are turned are routed and destroyed. Yet here one lays before us. She is innate, I can see it with mine own eyes. Those crimson orbs filled with hope of pity cannot hide their true identity.” He addressed her and a moment passed before she stood to reply.

“She is our prize in our campaign in the North. As you are well aware, a coven had been established and we sent a few of our troops to investigate. Our own Rena, Arden, and Gelehrter--”

“Gelehrter is missing--”

“--arrived to a sorry state of affairs. Thalanil thought to use Accalia against us and nominated her to be my Royal Vizier. I accepted and kept my word. However, House Delacroix has made no mention to me if they were willing to accept our young ward, Eloise, under their banner once again.”

Another noble stood, bowing with reverence to their Sanguine Overlord.

“If I may, my Overlord.” A gaunt man with a hooked nose addressed her. His dark garb disguised the decrepit limbs underneath. As he spoke, his throat wheezed and he struggled to hold himself upright. A pair of crimson hues focused onto his Overlord. Ovelia nodded to him in return. “I, Targon, admit to conspiring with the vampiric threat many years ago. However, I will not accept punishment now, for it is long since past that time. It is irrelevant, you would say.”

Gelehrter's eyes widened as he drank the image of Targon. Murmurs droned throughout the expanse, Gavilis eyeing him apprehensively.

“I am a man of my word, as I have been tasked with rooting out opposition. Being of the Delacroix, though our noble house has fallen from grace, has allowed me to ascertain the whereabouts of another Wrath of the Ancients.” Targon leaned on his cane and then continued after a brief spell of silence. “I understand you are aware of such a machination. It is a machine which is used in part to extract the soul of those who stand upon it. The soul is then used to create a Soul Cube, a rather drab name for a fantastical device. Inside of this Soul Cube is infinite knowledge.”

“Infinite?”

“You jest.”

“That is a lie!”

“What source of trickery--”

The voices droned in unison and Gavilis raised his hands as he addressed the uproar.

“Enough! You will give Targon your undivided attention.” He barked, the congregation slowly died down. The air grew thick with tension.

“As I was saying, the Soul Cube is a disastrous piece of equipment. Once filled with a soul, it is essentially stowed. The idea for this device was to increase the power of units in a short amount of time. Keep in mind, the Wrath of the Ancients—we have dubbed this machine thus because we do not have any records of its old name, or if it even had a name to begin with—is a machine. It is made from a different type of material than any we are used to working with. To create the means for increasing the power of a single unit, it costs another living being. Essentially, to unlock more power, you must take from those you love and those who would deign you. This cost was too great and though a few were built, they are able to be transported. I am uncertain how this feat is accomplished, but the implications are clear. The vampires and their masters are on the move.” Targon explained carefully.

“What of the girl here?” One of the other nobles chimed in. “Why bring her here, what use is she to our discussion?”

“We are deciding her fate.” Accalia announced. “Though she is a vampire, she is indeed a citizen of Sanctuary. Her crimes against our Eternal Throne, the Citadel, its inhabitants and the Sanctuarian Law are immense. This includes high treason... What is the will of House Delacroix?”

Targon's eyes focused onto the young girl before him, whose eyes pleaded for mercy. In the moment of silence, he appeared troubled and closed his eyes. The man stroked his beard and memories of the babe rushed through him. Without another moment, he turned to Gavilis.

“Please extract her memories.” Targon merely watched Eloise be dragged away with Accalia in tow. Gavilis nodded and exited after them. Uneasiness spread like a plague throughout the chamber as the realization sunk in.

“I propose we establish a defense of our own. Sanctuarian Templarate will be our first line of defense. I will outline our campaign when I have her memories to analyze; all Justicar report to the Grand Atheneum for further instructions. Templarate Captains are to increase the training of their brigades ten-fold and are to be on high alert.” Ovelia stood upright and without any further delay, she quickly added. “We shall eradicate them or fall. There is no alternative, I will not have my citizens of Sanctuary become drones for vampires.”

“Ma'am, if I may...our food stores will be taxed ten-fold. How will we better fill the bellies of more personnel?” Another noble stood upright meekly and addressed Ovelia.

“Another construction by the Lycanthrope sciences will be demonstrated.” She nodded to a man bearing a small cloak. He pushed a little cart into the center of the arena and placed two objects onto it. They were identical models of all Sanctuary, the massive tower lobbed in half for demonstration purposes. He then turned to the crowd who eyed him curiously.

“My colleagues and I have devised a way to protect vital resources in Sanctuary while simultaneously bolstering our defenses. With the matrices deactivated for the sake of our campaign—as you are well aware how dangerous these magical turrets are—it leaves much to the imagination how we would fare in the hours of twilight. As vampires are nocturnal, I would have them come to us and be drawn to these settlements like fireflies. Essentially, a dome of magical energy would surround the area in a circle as shown here.” He pressed a button and tiny glass orbs formed over plots of land in the Southern District and the Eastern District's models. “One such device would be not be placed around the Citadel, as it is simply too large of a job to protect, but I digress. The dome would enhance the soil and the crops within, allowing us to yield more bountiful harvests. A trail of said barriers would lead to the Citadel, where the foodstuffs will be logged and sorted among the masses. Should there be an attack, we would better hold out. For the moment, the defense matrices will be online during the night to better aid our construction of these devices. I will demonstrate now what we would do in case one of our pieces were to...shatter.”

A small rod sent a signal to one of the domes which shattered into millions of bits. After a few moments, the glass then reconstructed itself and then shone brilliantly for a few moments before returning to its normal state. “The material is designed to rebuild itself and the environment within. It cannot revive anyone who is killed during the attack, but the crops would be saved and it would allow us to continue to produce food. Livestock will live in similar structures, but they would be more durable to better protect them from further attacks.”

A few of the nobility nodded and murmured among themselves.