Accalia woke in the darkness of her bedchambers. Her bright sapphire orbs absorbed what little light they could and she waited for her eyes to adjust.

Only seconds later she rose to a standing position. Miniature lights dotted the walls and she waved the tip of her finger. She growled under her breath in frustration, but her mask of indifference remained. As she passed several oil lamps they automatically lit themselves and the room was illuminated. Her room was otherwise unremarkable.

A simple bed donned with a sheet, a couple of sewn quilts and a pillow. She made no effort to return to the bed to right the mess.

Her feet padded against the embroidered carpet. It was soft but otherwise beneath her, for in her lifetime she had been exposed to the elaborate bedchambers of a Sanguine Overlord. The ruler’s room was more her speed and she made it very known when the few lavish belongings she owned was the carpet. She claimed--when prompted--it belonged to the first Sanguine Overlord himself, Ernald. Her sapphire eyes sped over parchment which hovered in midair at her approach.

She shook her head in dismay. At first glance, it appeared to be dry recipes and other random assortment of things. However, she deciphered them quickly.

Some parchment were made entirely of anagrams, others in dead languages no one had spoken since the birth of Sanctuary. They were scrawled hastily, for the agents would soon be discovered by Justicar and their lives would be forfeit.

Accalia lowered her head and sighed heavily. She hadn’t much time herself since the Justicar were also on her trail. Bodies, even if they were stored away, had much to tell. They had their methods of extracting secrets from corpses. Accalia could not be in many places at once and the magic to do so required immense preparation. In her chambers she could normally take the risks, but she discovered recording devices. No matter how much she prodded, she knew it would lead to danger. For the time being she allowed the devices to be hidden but she had an inkling of who was responsible.

Gavilis’s mug flashed through her psyche and she snarled. The Grandmaster kept tabs on anyone he wished. Several moments passed as she quieted her fury with consecutive deep breaths. A knock rapped against her door and she reached for a stray gown draped onto a chair. She pulled the nightgown over her body and a servant entered. They appeared to be disheveled and pale, their bright eyes darting about.

“Ma’am, you’ve been summoned. There will be a hearing soon.” Accalia glanced over their person and spotted tiny implications of the Blessed Star.

“If you are trying to keep tabs on me then at least send someone who is mind controlled by a more experienced operative.” She growled and they appeared indifferent.

“We knew your behaviors and responded in kind.” The servant crumpled to the ground and Gavilis approached the entrance. He entered promptly, forcing her to step aside. His emerald eyes focused onto her in the same way she had seen his enemies. Accalia glanced over to the body of the servant girl then yelped with surprise. What was there never was and she fell for a simple parlor trick, children’s illusion magic. His strength was derived by the genius of the Dwyn, a lineage who were cursed to never sleep and be fueled entirely by the hunt for knowledge.

As a Mortem, her ability to cast fundamental spells and the like were unmatched. Even Arden, who was a dunce in comparison to someone as seasoned as herself, could manage some basic combat spells. Yet now she stood in the presence of someone who stood alongside Ernald and aid him in building the empire which Sanguine Overlords rule. The Grandmaster of the Justicar boasted power and even being in the presence of a man, despite his lack of height, terrified her. Cold sweat beaded from her brow as she examined her. His trained eyes were like wolves on the prowl, never missing a single detail.

This was their routine. She would wake, try to gather some intel, Gavilis would rummage through her things--like he was currently doing while she was paralyzed with fear--and confiscate anything he thought was evidence. A couple of papers were pocketed before they left. Magic danced along the pages which illuminated prints, blood and other stains that were removed from the contents. He glanced over to her and without another word he left. She knew she had to follow him, but she also surmised every step he gained was three steps she was behind.

The thought process continued indefinitely as she kept her distance from him. Eerie silence crept over them though it was expected and Gavilis took full advantage of the situation. Of all the Mortem, she was considered the weakest because of her heavy reliance on magic. Her body was frail and her figure appeared devoid of any visible strength.

“Our Overlord is expecting you.” He spoke finally after they reached the lift. Gears whirred and sparks danced behind the walls. They entered then in silence and the elevator shifted as it raised them to the topmost accessible level. The lift ride with Gavilis was always so unnerving. Even while the mundane marched on, he continued his undying vigil to prod her for any evidence to support his claims. Accusation upon accusation piled on her as the weeks droned on and she stood next to the one man responsible for gathering evidence.

Just as her thoughts had ventured into the darker reaches of her mind, she was greeted with a familiar corridor. The lift was in relatively close proximity to the Sanguine Overlord’s chambers and the carpet underneath their feet had been worn from eons of use. Bald patches were etched into the carpet and every mending was laid plain against the other fibers. Odd details jumped out to her as she ventured behind Gavilis, who was currently muttering to himself.

They entered the Overlord’s chambers, where Ovelia was surrounded by other Council officials. Their gaze turned to them as they entered. Accalia joined them hastily while Gavilis took his post beside the entrance, his sword drawn. The blade’s tip rested on the floor and they nodded to one another as a sign of respect.

“You are late, Accalia. We’ve started without you.” Targon piped up. The old vampire spoke boldly to her in front of the Overlord and the Grandmaster. She knew he wondered if she had deciphered the letters his agents had delivered to her.

“I was practicing my magic, that is all. You know I take my obligations to the study of magic very seriously.” She confessed and glanced down to her bare feet.

Suddenly, she felt very embarrassed for leaving her own dorm without any shoes, but it appeared to help her excuse find purchase.

“The first matter of business, then. We will sum up the other topics we had discussed in just a moment.” Ovelia took the chance to lead the discussion, for she had gone over the contents of the map many times. Though it did not seem rehearsed, Accalia knew the habits of the Overlord well--even if Ovelia herself was loathe to admit it. “We’ve another attack and I have touched base with several Justicar who will vouch for this intel. They plan on waiting us out, but we have an entrance through the Lower Sector here--”

“Lower Sector is suicide. Anyone but Justicar will be slaughtered should they enter.” A noble, whom was decorated in his accoutrements of the past. “There are old tales about such a place for a reason, there were people who survived it who couldn’t bear others involved.”

“Then we all become Justicar.” Gavilis suggested. “The title would have no more weight and there would be no more need for the Council to throw away perfectly good Sanctuarian coin.”

“And have us all bow to you, I think not.” Targon and Accalia exchanged glances as the discussion’s tension grew.

“The Council is all Sanctuary knows of a democratic system. If we are at war and you suddenly change things like this then why is there a Council in the first place?”

“Of course, because being Sanguine Overlord is not enough and you must dictate our lives and throw them aside!”

Accalia glanced over to Gavilis now, who abandoned his stoic veil for a smirk. She instead borrowed the veil for her own desires. She needed this time more than ever to plan her next move.

“It would be a better alternative than to have them all turned. You don’t remember the night we secured the Wrath of the Ancients in the warehouse?” Ovelia crossed her arms indignantly and Accalia nearly gasped with surprise.

They had known. The thought struck her as obvious. Why wouldn’t the Overlord and the Grandmaster know something so trivial, for they too had their own spies.

“We lost more than a thousand that night, not counting the ones who were killed. You suggested we use the Templarate as backup while the Justicar did all the heavy lifting. Not only did you damn us, you damned them as well. Every one of your trained soldiers are now under their control or dead.” Gavilis pointed out. The room fell to silence.

Accalia thought she caught a glimpse of Targon wearing a smirk.

“All of our Justicar were accounted for, save one, though we have traded one for another. Gelehrter is our only casualty and he willingly gave himself for Rena.” Ovelia stood upright and the other nobles belonging to the Council stepped out of her way nervously. On both fronts they stood and blocked them in.

“I have the means to create more Blessed Stars for any who would wish to have them. It would take some heavy lifting and some coin to furnish the final pieces together. What would you do then?” Gavilis eyed them carefully before he sheathed his weapon. “It would breathe more life in Sanctuary than ever before. The manufacturing of this magical armor would enable even a novice to be invincible. There would be only one price to pay.”

“You cannot remove it from a living host.” Ovelia nodded slowly and everyone in the room paled save for her partner, Gavilis. “And once the host is killed, the Blessed Star is useless. All energy stored away is lost and the Blessed Star is ordinary metal.”

“Then, how do we salvage it? Surely armor like that could be taken if they are beaten.” One of the Council members spoke quickly as if fueled only by his greed.

“We salvage the metal, but it has been charmed before. It cannot hold the same enchantment twice.”

“Enchantment...that is a devil’s trade, friend. I will not parley with demons!” One of the younger Council members took quickly to panic and was immediately silenced by other Justicar who appeared in the room. His muffled screams echoed from the hallway where they hastily mended his memory.

“You will not leave this room until we have everyone in agreement and you will swear an oath to be discreet.” Gavilis ordered. “This is for the good of Sanctuary. We have the means to bring down the vampires in one fell swoop.”

“And we are able to do so at any moment. You will be watched after we adjourn here. Should word spread, memories will be mended en masse. By my mantle of the Sanguine Overlord, I decree all in this room abide by my law. For the good of all, Sanctuary must be held first in your hearts. Should this oath be broken, we will know of your treachery.” Ovelia stood upright and drew her saber.