[40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 20]

With a quick detour to her room to freshen her makeup, Renner braced to return to the ongoing riots.

I should at least make a token showing today. Perhaps ingratiate myself with brother-dearest and Raeven. The convenience of it is still frighteningly lustrous, all the more cause to doubt it. I should simply speak with the pair, sense the links between them.

Renner stood up from her vanity and stretched languidly. She lightly lamented not having time for a bath, the subtle stench of the day still clinging to her body. With a moment’s thought, she swept her dexter hand across the desk to snatch a vial of perfume. Undoing the stopper with her other, she applied a dab to the base of her head, spreading it swiftly. It was a flowery fragrance, one she had selected to match those she wove in her hair.

This will have to suffice for now. Though, considering the emotions rippling through that space, I expect the well-worn stench of agitated menfolk and their outbursts to fill the room. Much has been made about the smell of violence in its aftermath, the metallic hang of gore in the air, cooked flesh and the like; such a thing is an olfactory misnomer. Violence has a different tinge in its genesis, that of sweat, spittle, and alcohol. That such a thing is indistinct from the scent of jubilation is an irony my kin will never grasp. At once a toast to joy and death, harbinger of drunken rage.

She satisfied herself with a quick sniff, returning the stopper to its bottle. After one last inspection in the mirror, she broke away, exiting her bedroom. Opening and shutting the door gently, she looked out the window to her left, spotting both an outgoing and incoming footman. The traffic had yet to let up, the palace still filled to the brim with noblemen. With the night of the sixteenth having scattered the wake-sleep periods of nobles, Couriers and other messengers departed at all times, be it the height of day or deep into the night. Renner watched the pair pass each other, the two men almost colliding in their haste.

Speaking of cropsickness, I still can’t scry who that woman was, nor his purpose in sending her. Some noblewoman of the Imperial court? I regret missing it now; I had not thought things would play out any other way but standard, I would have attended. The… default rejection, as it were. Considering the words she delivered, it was probably some ironic twist or snub, some compounding joke Jircniv saw fit to play. I doubt it is of proper significance. Lo, peace - unless a froth-mouthed warmonger dares raid across the border. I doubt such a thing would happen though; Harlink and Bajan are busy reeling, and it's not as if Wagner has any such ability to prosecute a campaign.

Thankfully, the palace was not overfull, the cost of traveling to Valencia and then staying in Re-Estize for an extended period of time too great for many lower nobles to bear. About half the attended barons had left for good, a smaller portion of the counts as well. A few spoke of their plans to return, making mad dashes to their demesne to sort out imminent business before returning for the rest of proceedings. Renner broke from the window, heading to exit her room. A maid was present, but Renner saw fit to simply ignore her.

Finally things seem fit to unwind, though several days later than expected. The rats will hopefully scatter in droves now; flee this burning palace, and return to their warrens. Rats have such, yes? No matter. Ah, malady brews in my heart. I still can’t quite grasp the gall of Ena-

Renner’s thoughts seized, causing her to shudder. Images of Barbro filled her mind; the sharp crevices of his face, the uniform-like jackets he always insisted on wearing, the wild quivers in lips when his mind alit. A deep anger burst in her. For a sharp instant, he and her loathing of him was the only thing in her mind.

“Your Highness-”

“Forgive me, Parheli. I just came upon a recollection.”

No, Chardelon, you’re avoiding him. It’s strange how deeply my hatred runs for him, the agony he represents. He would have ripped me from the world, ran me through. Had his dreams came to fruition, my head would be rotting on a pike, my vitality staining the earth. He would take his birthright and dash it. What- what a cruel twist that is. What a horrid and sadistic thing. That he would be given a kingdom to waste. I so desperately wish I could send Lakyus and her ilk to slit his throat, to spill his blood and his insides onto the ground, to wreath the gallows anew with a fool and a betrayer. He would have taken Climb from me, had he won. I despise him.

Renner gave an apologetic nod to the maid, before continuing to the door. Parheli rushed ahead, opening it for her. Renner stepped out into the corridor and began to walk.

The actual ending of him, how sweet a cup to drink from. A swift blade to the back, drippings of a beast’s maw running through his veins; perhaps something more… lively. Death on the battlefield? As if he would dare enter it. No, he’s a white-livered commander best fit to lurk in a tent. Assassination there though would perhaps be ideal. An easy excuse. But in what war? An annual one? Untenable, such an escalation would lead to further, more complete destruction. A monster unleashed, a Kingdom burned in arcane flame, a house sundered and slaughtered. It- it can’t work, can it?

Renner approached the spot where Climb and Teloran had fought their duel. The carpet that had run its length was gone, the window hastily boarded as pockmarks of the violence. Already, the sensations it roused in her had begun to dull, no longer the sharp crisis it inspired in her mind. She was grateful for graying, a subtle realization that violence was likely to become an indelible part of her life. She strode past without a second thought, building a pace and poise of one wholly undisturbed or unaware of the horror.

It can’t. What would it take to close his story? My half-wit brother would already need to be firmly entrenched on the throne, not in waiting as he is now. Those who would mount retaliations to his death would need to be disempowered, disabled, or dismembered; Bolloupe certainly, perhaps Lytton and Blumrush. A total reaping of House Vaiself’s enemies, within and without; of Zanac’s enemies. Of mine. Strange to think I can be said to possess them. By no way did I scry such a thing at the outset.

Renner made her way out of the quarter-wing of the third floor, walking down one of the main halls. It was dotted with pairs or triplets of highbloods, many locked in conversation. Renner earned her typical glances passing through the space, giving polite nods as greetings. That these were usual interactions were a sign that the nobility was already healing from the night of the sixteenth, people no longer treating her as if she might shatter. She had - for all the outward trauma of that night - endured, a Vaiself princess through thick and thin. Within a moment, she had found her way to the strategic forum, the knight at the door waving her by.

No, I’ll have to settle for lesser plotting. A “political” end. Humiliation that does not provoke kinetic response, Valleon’s supremacy by way of some total victory. Aggravating, I- I hate this. Hatred, pure and true. How shackled I am. I do not wish Lakyus to pity me, though if only she could shatter them. An eternal crisis. I must escape with Climb, creep off to a demesne where I can seize him and be free from everything that has been thrust upon me. How I yearn for liberty. Back to the present, then.

Renner stepped in and tasted the emotions of the room. The flavor was wrong, and she had to hold herself from a click of the tongue.

People should be taking their lunch by now, yet this place is still brimming with life. Why are we still absent normalcy? Something is wrong. Do the fools seriously intend to prosecute a war?

She flicked her eyes through the space. It was half full, the three long tables - one set aside for a map interposed between two for sitting - smattered with clumps of men. Many of the titled men were gone, but aids or representatives were still lingering. Worse, although some were locked in conversation, many were unengaged with their fellows; jittering their legs or staring absently out the window. They were waiting.

There’s to be an announcement, but of what? If it was an imminent throw of the iron dice, the men themselves would be here, with their retinues in full. For a message from the crown, I would have been explicitly summoned for the typical unified front. This can’t be unimportant, for in such a case the lot would have broken for a meal, not half. This is wholly unseeming. I must be feeble-minded, for I cannot understand what’s happening at all.

Renner sighed, choosing to inspect the space closer. To her displeasure, several members of Theiern’s and Helgrave’s command staff were clustered in a corner, confusing the scene even further for her. Her eyes brushed against her brother and Marquis Raeven. The pair were sitting in two of the seats furthest from the entrance. To her amazement, they appeared to be lost in each other, Zanac displaying an unusual level of animation as he expressed his words. The marquis appeared to make an inaudible quip, Zanac bursting into a fit of laughter.

Why the revelry? Pray tell brother, lost in your flask again? It does seem they have genuine rapport. Wonderful. Now, to vanquish my ignorance of the subject at hand.

Renner began to advance towards the pair, rounding the room. Zanac was far more readable than Raeven, though the little flits in his motion revealed him to also be drunk. As she approached from the side, Raeven finally became aware of her presence, drawing himself up and cocking his head. Noticing his companion stiffen, Zanac turned back in his chair, face twitching before he gave a greeting.

“Sister! Finally done playing with our family’s matriarch?”

If she was here to hear that, we would have a Queen Unsandra by the afternoon.

“Isn’t that a little mean, Your Highness?”

“It's true! She is our Matriarch. She has given Pespea a son, a son again, and a daughter.”

A son, daughter, son actually. Do you pay so little attention to goings on?

Renner slipped into the free chair left of Zanac, catching his face twitch twice.

“I suppose you’re right, brother. She is the matriarch now, no?”

“Hm, I believe so.”

“Aunt Ezenine has long since passed, and my mother had nothing but brothers.”

Both Raeven and Zanac seemed to slow at her words. Renner’s mother, Julie Etsana Unulia Elya Vaiself, was - to most - a complicated and tragic subject. Her name was always broached with care around Renner, something that, in her opinion, bordered on comedy. Renner knew little of her mother, possessing only faint memories and hearsay. With the exception of Ramposa, who lost himself in forlorn recollections of Estana - and to warm reassurances of how much Renner reminded him of her - her half-siblings and the nobility as a whole avoided the late queen entirely.

"I-indeed, Your Highness.”

People always tighten when I mention her. Ironic, for I have nothing of her ‘cept looks and blood. Lulara musn’t either, How could we be expected too? It's akin to asking Zanac of Nunia; what could he know of her? Little to nothing; her end came too soon and too swift for him.

“Yes. Oh, and please forgive me for not giving proper introduction, Marquis.”

“I committed the same disrespect, Your Highness.”

“Happy to see we’re of a mind, then.”

Ramposa had made the mistake of marrying for love; worse, he had done so twice. After the first seven years of his reign, once the campaigns and consolidations he waged finally tempered the north and dragged House Urovana out of its worst days, Ramposa had found the time to take a wife. The eldest daughter of House Nunia had long since caught his eye, and after a proposal and stout engagement, he and Parheli Nunia Theiere Junda were tied in matrimony. In typical fashion for Ramposa’s reign, Nunia’s house of origin collapsed in a violent end only five weeks after the wedding. The details of those events forty years prior were indistinct and unreliable to Renner, but the success of her engagement had somehow fouled the works of a scheme put into play by her second brother; this set a number of political traps off early, snapping the reputations of many in two, including himself. His solution was primal revenge, the rote murder of his brothers and the turning of house forces against themselves, culminating in the razing of the family’s manor.

“What of Ezenine’s daughters?”

No quip? That was a choice opportunity you missed. I’ll forge one for you, “I’d hope not.” Since when does drink dull his tongue? He truly intends to continue this talk? To what end?

“Can they be said to count, brother? No Vaiself blood runs through their veins.”

“True. I suppose she is.”

With the end of House Nunia, House Ynra was left as the only remaining ducal family in the kingdom. That Ynra too would collapse within the year was another of the twisted ironies that defined Ramposa’s rule. The reasons were entirely unrelated, decades of financial mismanagement leading to a similar breakdown and spree-killing. That both ducal lines were severed in such a short span led to a bevy of other crises. He would go a further six years before attempting to sire a child with the now Queen Nunia, and when he did, a crown prince would be born. The young Barbro would soon be joined by a sister, then a brother. Then, one day, Nunia would suffer a stupid and meaningless end at the hooves of an unruly riding mare who bucked and dashed her for little reason at all. It was without warning, a death completely unfit for a queen.

“Chardelon.”

“Yes?”

“What did you two do? Simply ran a circuit round the city?”

Displaying interest in our sister further still? Why? You’ve lost me Igana.

“Indeed, we spent the morning at the shops. There was a new hatmaker from Arwintar she wished to visit.”

“Pining for those who screwed us over yesterday, I see.”

“Brother, this is no occasion for vulgarity. Sans that, wasn’t an accord of peace?”

“If you can call it that, Your Highness.”

“Oh, so that was true, Marquis? I heard there was some turmoil.”

“There was. Their declaration of intention was filled with little else but insults. Worse, it was delivered by… well, it's no matter.”

“Where is she now?”

He’s pushing. Quizzical. He’s never cared for such matters of womenfolk before, except perhaps their affections. Not for vixens, but vitality? An inner metamorphosis for him, shame it took this nation throwing itself off a cliff to spurn as such. Brother-dearest, don’t you know we’re standing on thin air?

“Who, that woman?”

“No, how did you even- nevermind that. Where is our dear Telon?”

“Where, rather, who else? With our brother by marriage. Oh, speaking of which, why isn’t he here?”

Her death was violating and shattering for Ramposa; in the wake of the accident, he refused to leave his quarters for a week. Another month would pass before he returned to his duties in full. He had spent the time after pursuing others, though less from desire and more from the vacuum left. It was thus that he - in the depths of his despair - found his second wife. Julie Unulia Elya Estana was an unlikely companion for the king, not of any family with a marquis; rather, that of a count. This did not matter to him, and damming the consequences, the pair fed the whirlwind and would wed within the year.

“Here, Your Highness?”

“I’m assuming we’re on the eve of something. Brother, we aren’t to shatter the peace first, are we?”

The now Queen Estana had always been ill, a frailty of body - and if the blackest of rumors were to be believed, of mind as well. Her mortal existence was perilous and fragile, and for every malady that threatened to claim her, she fought to stay out of the earth. Both she and Ramposa wished to consummate their marriage, though pregnancy - not to mention childbirth - was another tribulation altogether. Thus was three seasons of suffering, capstoned by the worst agony a person could endure. She survived, and as a monument to her effort, House Vaiself was granted its second princess.

What of family? Our function as a unit? We have lost some through a combination of Barbro doing his best and Zanac his worst, though it's not as if the Vaiself name isn’t potent. With this, our appearances will warp, break, and reform to a new paradigm. One that is not unified, but is of such strong will to appear as such. With time, this will have turned from embarrassment to general respect. That slap, which so benefited me and Zanac, will end up benefiting Barbro as well, however minor. What of the tighter conceptions?

That Estana was pregnant again by the time Lulara turned one was unimaginable. If Lulara was a miracle, then Renner, born on the seventh day of the month of upper fire, twenty-fourth year of Foresai, was an impossibility. Estana never recovered, the tonics of physicians and supplications of clerics giving her another two years with her husband and children. Eventually, her ailments set upon her in force and refused to break, her form simply seizing and falling apart.

“Are you daft? You would have been summoned in such a case.”

“That’s what I suspected, but the comings of things seem so martial.”

“Indeed, they are.”

“Pray tell, the cause?”

What she did have of Estana was scant: some vague sensation of a towering figure that embraced her, a tight and warm thing; the hem of a dress sliding across the floor, Renner stepping on it and earning a chiding; the sound of laughter in a voice that the mortal world had long since lost. Renner felt cold to the subject. There was no sense of love, nor of loss; rather, a distant fear that such a thing could happen to her.

All I know of her was her funeral. Though I suppose fourteen years distant, that day remains vivid. The rights, her undertaking. That piece of lace I kept fiddling with on my dress. Ah, I remember the controversy of that day. It was one of the first events I needed to wear my crown for, I kept fidgeting with it. Eh? How embarrassing, even all these years later. All my errors in that time, before I learned the value of hiding. It was an unwitting march into danger on my part. Simply another thing to be grateful to Climb for.

She and Lulara both were caught in the legacy of their mother, both being bedridden at points throughout her childhood. The worst for Renner came when she was four, a deadly fever that, once latched to her, did not break for ten days. She had avoided serious illness since then, though the thought of its return had never quite left her mind. As to the source of her blood, a mother was just another thing she would never have. She was raised by the maidstaff inclined to nanny, though she never fully bonded with them. For all the material care they gave in raising her, their work bore a fundamental dispassion, one she would mirror as she aged. Renner was a favorite of the father and little else.

“Explain it to her, Marquis.”

“To have the assault on the borderlands two months ago, then a second ten days prior; an assault on the palace, you and your brother included; the knight marshals; and now this vampire! What’s the Kingdom coming to?”

Verily? Then I suppose this gathering makes perfect sense, no special imposition for ceremony; rather, a rote recognition of danger. Gods- or I suppose their empty thrones above, a vampire! What an odd twist.

“Brother, what’s this business with a… I don’t wish to speak its name… this business with an undead?”

“A runner came in from E-Rantel. The Adventurer's guild there received reports of a powerful one somewhere in the duchy.”

“Powerful? How horrifying.”

“Something like that, Your Highness.”

“You needn’t avoid the word, sister.

“But it feels so vile.”

“Then it's fit to spill from your mouth, no?”

I knew you to be one for jest in front of others, but outright disdain? You’re dearly lucky Raeven is Royalty Faction. Were he to take those words and spread them, they would in turn take half the Kingdom’s gossip. Do you know? It’s not impossible, though half-full cups are rarely sufficient for such deductions. Ah, a response. Zanac, you have overextended yourself. Lo, to cut.

“I… um, d-do you think so?”

“I think, Your Highness, your brother’s wit has been unfettered by drink.”

A bifurcated siege? No, it's a genuine rally in his favor. He’s saving Zanac face to me. What purpose does that serve? Royal family unity perhaps, or has Raeven thrown his sword fully on Zanac’s scale? If such was given to a lesser man - or I suppose by as well - such an interjection would lead to anger and a falling out, a dull guffaw to “not speak over a prince.” Raeven is not a lesser man, and he knows Zanac isn’t either. They’re bound.

Renner’s inner face twisted into a smile. She had sown the seeds of such a relationship only a week prior, expecting it to take tender care to grow. Lo, it was already in bloom.

Thus, to shift objectives. I forged my opposite from the void; now, to force them to the table. I shall offer King Valleon a sword pointed at his foe’s heart. All he needs to do is take it and plunge.

“S-sorry, Chardelon.”

“It's fine, Igana. I don’t find myself given over to much pride as of life.”

“All… All, uh-”

“All correct then?”

“Yes! All correct.”

“Raeven, you mentioned that- er no it was Zanac- that this vampire possessed strength. How much?”

“I’m not certain on the details, Your Highness. Said something about an iron rank team that got wiped out.”

Wait, simple iron ranks? They fall to the jaws of death all the time, no?

“Iron ranks?”

“I think that’s what he said; I didn’t catch the details either.”

“Shame, though I do wonder what Ainzach will give us.”

“You would know better than I, Marquis. Actually, sister, with the amount of time you spend with the fairest Aindra, you may have a better sense for these things than I do.”

“On Adventurous endeavors? Perhaps I do.”

“In any case, are iron teams significant?”

“I hate to be callous, but not particularly.”

“Truly?”

“To my understanding - which admittedly isn’t that good.”

“No, no, Her Highness is right.”

“Surprising.”

“Eh? Good. Anything else?”

“They didn’t give much more than that, Your Highness; they should return with something more complete soon.”

“All things well to be…”

The conversation died, and the triplet sat in silence for a time. On a flit, Renner snapped her fingers to summon a maid, requesting a glass of water. Raeven did the same, and at that, she found cause to get Zanac one as well. He had gone non-verbal, ignoring her imposition by nursing his flask. Minutes passed, a few others trickling out of the room, a few in. Finally, the doors to the hall swung open, in walking the a frazzled footman of the Re-Estize adventurers guild. His entrance went unnoticed to most, his face red and hair slick from the heat of the day. Without a fraction of the decorum of the typical representatives, the man simply drew his scroll - and after a few stout coughs - proceeded to speak. By his fifth word, half the room had turned, and suddenly kept silent.

“Presenting a message from Guild-Master Pluton Ainzach of the E-Rantel Adventurers Guild.”

No fanfare? Perhaps it is unneeded now. I doubt a vampire bears any pretense of respect here.

“Yesterday, our guild hall in E-Rantel assigned two iron ranked adventurer teams Red Glave and Dungeon Breakers to a request to search and destroy the base of a band of highwaymen to the north of the city. The band, known as the Death Spreading Brigade, has continually harrassed merchant caravans, local farmers, and other passerbys for the last six months.”

Ah, the Death Spreading Brigade. Lakyus had mentioned stalkers by that name. If the wildest rumors of the maidstaff are to be believed, they would place Brain Unglaus among that number; I had believed it untrue, but Gagaran’s reassurances were not made as intentional falsehood.

“They were believed to have significantly experienced bladesmen in their company, and represented a significant threat to trade traffic to and from the Tob forest region. Dungeon Breakers would travel out of the city northwards, before sweeping back southward through the adjacent forests, where they would meet with Red Glave. In this way, we intended to pincer the bandits from both sides.”

So the guild found time to hunt them down? Isn’t sending iron teams then a recipe for chaos? Ah, if they have traveled to E-Rantel, that means they either abandoned their job with Eight Fingers, or the leadership cut them off. Either way, it would indicate practicality.

“That night, a single member of the team Red Glave reported in - a woodland ranger by the name of Davic - claiming that he had been sent back to E-Rantel to request reinforcements. He reported that their team had found a walking-corpse with intact flesh - in adventurer parlance, a ‘zombie’ - in their search area, which they destroyed upon sight. At the time he departed, his team had traveled over two leagues distant from the city. We, fearing the presence of an unknown necrotic threat in the region - which, with the exception of the city’s cemetery - was assumed to have been cleared, ordered the dispatch of the gold rank team Dawn ‘Till Dusk. Along with the iron rank forester, the gold rank team was given the objective to find the source of the undead, and if possible destroy it.”

Ainzach is being humble; “we,” a joke. He made that call himself, but he doesn’t want to self-congratulate. Clever.

“About two miles outside the city they encountered a panicked and incoherent woman, whom the ranger recognized as a member of Red Glave, Brita. After mundane methods failed to calm her, the Dawn ‘Till Dusk’s cleric resorted to the use of a prayer, which worked to soothe her. Brita then reported that Red Glave had been slaughtered, that she was the lone survivor of that team, and that their hunter was none other than a vampire.”

The room stiffened, several shifting in their seats. Renner shot a hand to her mouth, opening her lips with a slight click and inhale. Despite her higher self, a shiver ran down her spine, the image the guild footman had conveyed sharp in her mind.

An excellent delivery on his part, the imposition of violent death, making humans seem as if prey. All the more important to grind these things into us. He’s undoubtedly trying to wrench aid, though I doubt he’ll speak such words explicitly.

“Although an iron ranked team is not a comparable match in combat to even the weakest of vampire kind, we have reason to believe that this vampire is of significant strength; these being Brita’s description of the events, and the physical evidence we later recovered of the site where they were assaulted. The vampire is believed to have been in a blood frenzy when it assaulted - a state of literal, uncontrollable blood-thirst. However, the vampire was able to successfully delineate priority targets when the adventurer team approached, moving past Brita to assault the backline. When Brita threw a potion of healing as a last defense, the vampire bore the attack without taking significant injury. The vampire then stopped its assault for unknown reasons, shed its leech-like form, assumed the appearance of an adolescent woman in a ball gown, and then proceeded to mentally dominate Brita. This, along with target selection, indicates a high-level of self control, one only prevalent in older and more powerful vampires.”

It simply ripped her mind away from her? They can do such things? Terrifying. Absolute control over another, not by fear, or by coercion, but by overwhelming supremacy of make. What would happen to me in such a grasp? Would I simply slag in her hands? What then? This Brita seems to have survived, but I can’t see how.

“Brita was then interrogated by the vampire for unknown reasons, with it asking about the source of her potion. Healing potions by their nature harm undead beings, and their production represents a threat, both in their ability to be used directly as weapons and to bolster their hunts. This again indicates age, with older vampires taking great care to eliminate any tactical or strategic hazards in their domains. In addition, Brita noted the presence of several other undead in her midst, including two vampires. Normally, vampires can create weaker vampires as thralls from those they kill. However, the two thralls Brita spotted were of incredibly uniform and beautiful appearance. They too displayed deference, self-control, and ability far beyond that of a newly created thrall. It is likely that they were not newly created, but rather, old vampires in the service of the leader. Vampires do not often submit to others of their kind in a mistress-servant dynamic. We believe that this is a vampire lord; one that has been able to obtain others of its kind as servants, be this through creation or domination.”

It's a strange sort of unlife. For us, the body withers, the mind growing until that too suddenly gives way to ailments. But for beings like that, I suppose it's a simple, straight escalation. The body does not grow weak, the mind honing it day after day ad infinitum. I wonder what sort of existence that would be? To be undead, to thirst for blood of lesser species, to wake up every day in a coffin - verily, or is that just a stupid myth? Eh, what am I thinking? Pray tell, Chardelon, are you to make a mad dash for immortality? If such a thing were to ever happen, Lakyus would run me through herself. Comical.

“Other undead included aforementioned zombies, bats, wolves, the latter two of which we believe to be vampiric. After Brita was forced to tell the vampire that Davic had departed back to E-Rantel, the vampire left the area along with her servants to conduct a search. After a time, Brita’s domination faded, whereupon she then fled southward. Later investigation of the area by Dungeon Breakers and Dawn ‘Till Dusk lead to the discovery of what we believe was the Death Spreading Brigade’s base, filled with two score zombies of what we presume were its former members.”

That humankind even exists is a miracle. We cannot stand in the face of such creatures without losing ourselves, and yet we continue to be. What of schemes? Of information? She must have been intentionally released, I don’t understand how it could have been otherwise. Are we perhaps sheep of a kind? Can chattel know they’re chattel without fetters? One massive pen that stretched from Aserzalia to- to the sea?

“That this vampire has remained, up until now, unknown to us, indicates that it has either been successful in controlling information about its existence, or has migrated from another location. Although fortunate, it is unknown why Brita was able to make her escape, and why Davic was able to unwittingly evade the undead pursuers in the area. This vampire represents a significant and imminent threat to the safety of E-Rantel and its surrounding counties. We have conducted emergency meetings, and are putting together a task force to find and eliminate this monster. We will collaborate with our adventurer teams, other domestic halls, local outfitters and suppliers, the city administration, the duchy, and the crown. Respectfully, Pluton Ainzach.”

Ah my mind runs wild at this! Is this the sort of elation doom sayers know? The feverous visions of men torn limb from limb by beasts and brutes, breaching bulwarks and breaking the world? Things foul and black unsealed, an end without reckoning. Something akin to a return of Landfall? Calm yourself. I am far too enthralled.

“Marquis?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it sounds worrying, Your Highness.”

“Sister?”

“What?”

“You’re shaking.”

Of course I am. How can one not be at such words? Brother, do you not realize what he is saying? The scale of events? To bind other vampires? The very fact that this announcement is being made at all. Why is his reaction so tepid? I- Ah, he thinks little of Ainzach. How base.

Renner stayed her shiver, realizing all at once the errors in her judgment. Lakyus had long since spoken the praises of Ainzach, calling him a rigid and practical man, one who always skipped to the actual matters without cajoling or kowtowing to the teams he worked with. This was a requirement of his line of work, adventurers not a group to mislead or trick into unexpectedly difficult tasks. Zanac knew nothing of this.

They see it as a girlish fear of the unknown, not an actual consideration. How narrow of sight and mind is my blood? Are they so nearsighted they can’t see ‘clear our borders? It’s infuriating. We are human; this world is less than hospitable to our kind. To not throw resources at the guild is foolish. Is there anything to do here? Ah, yes, one with triplet benefits.

“Eh? I apologize. Igana?”

“Yes?”

“I suppose we pass Rettenmaier a payment, no? Something for him to hand to Ainzach.”

To bolster the guild, to bolster my name, to bolster Zanac’s, to bolster House Vaiself, to bolster the faction, and for his spendthrift treason, to weaken Barbro.

“Contribution on a personal basis?”

“Something like that, a token of the family.”

“Doable. What were you thinking?”

A token weight. Too heavy for that baleful brother of mine to part with, too light for a refusal to be excusable.

“One-half.”

“Platinum? A large sum.”

“The right thing, no?”

“Perhaps, but such a sum-”

“Is needed for adamantite causes.”

“Hm, true. Alright, I’ll match you standard for standard.”

“Wonderful!”

“I wouldn’t call the occasion wonderful, Chardelon. The emergence of a creature- er, undead like this is a tragic event.”

You’re a child fitting at the taste of his tonics. Accept a victory when you can, Zanac.

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything like that. More akin to… um… hm.”

“N-nevermind. I understood what you meant.”

“All correct, then. Thank you, brother.”

“Of course.”

If Zanac is cunning enough, he’ll let it slip near a maid - as will I.

“Hm, perhaps more, you think?”

“Do you?”

What is he- Ah, he’s too dazed by alcohol to see it. Thus, to bludgeon him over the head until he notices.

“Anything to subsidize the guild. Perhaps I seek aid from our brother?”

“Our brother? Why from… from him?”

“Wouldn’t he provide additional wealth? I haven’t the faintest clue as to Vena’s ability to contribute.”

“He- he ought to.”

And I’ve led him to it. I’m so proud of you Zanac, you’ve displayed a keen grasp of the obvious! Surely you’ve earned your crown now, Gods above; you have the cunning of a child - the discipline of one as well. How is your breath tainted with alcohol so early in the day? That I have to force such an obvious thing into your hands!

Renner gave a light smile, Zanac returning a darker one.

This Kingdom needs you as its regent, and that you shall be, but I will need to be its ruler. This is a day of vile things; that the lands I call my own may be fashioned an abattoir, and then that I may be cursed to manage them. Tedium without end.