“The Dominion greets the Isarott,” the Sovereign said.
And Kosandion had just officially recognized him as the ruler of East Gaheas. There would be war.
Nycati opened his mouth. Magic rolled from him, a whisper of tightly contained power. “The Isarott greets the Dominion.”
He turned and descended the stairs. The Gaheas delegation rose as one and followed him down the ramp from their section, across the bridge, and to the portal. A few more breaths and they were gone.
“We will take a short recess!” Gaston announced.
“In fifth place, finishing with the second lowest score,” Gaston said, “is…Lady Bestata of House Meer.”
Bestata’s scores appeared on the screens. The strength of her military was off the charts compared to Nycati’s. Her knights were well trained and disciplined, her bowmen had technologically advanced weapons, and her fortresses were a marvel of military engineering. But all of that came at a cost. Her population was literate and had a good grasp of mathematics, but her arts and humanities were practically non-existent. She’d invested the bare minimum into religion, which somehow made her medicine and life expectancy lag behind. Her economy was stumbling. Her population was disciplined and patriotic, but they were not happy.
I really thought she would’ve scored higher, given that she was clearly winning the war with Amphie, but the Dominion must’ve placed a lot of value on quality of life.
Bestata wasn’t happy either. Her trademark sneer was back, and she looked like she wanted to cut someone’s head off. House Meer formed up behind her, as if they were about to storm Kosandion on his throne.
“Wars are expensive,” Dagorkun said.
“Especially the way she fights them,” Karat said. “This has been most illuminating.”
“Would you like a recording of her game?” I asked.
Karat’s eyes sparked. “I wouldn’t like it. I would love it. You know who else will love it?”
“Lord Soren?”
She grinned and nodded. “My father will be most pleased. Why, he might even crack a smile.”
“You should make preparations in case his face breaks.”
She chuckled.
Dagorkun leaned around Karat to look at me.
“Of course, Under-Khan, I will send you home with a copy as well.”
“Thank you. My mother will find it very useful.”
“Honoring one’s parents is paramount,” Karat said.
“Yes. It is our sacred duty.”
They shared a look.
House Meer had managed to achieve the impossible. The Horde and the Holy Anocracy would unite for a chance to kick their asses.
“What would you ask of the Dominion?” Kosandion said.
Bestata unclenched her teeth. “House Meer desires only one thing, one that only the Sovereign can grant us.”
“Here it comes,” Dagorkun murmured.
“3, 2, 1,” Karat whispered.
“A pact of mutual protection between House Meer and the Dominion!” Bestata declared.
Caldenia sighed.
“It is within my power to grant. That is not in question.” Kosandion paused. “However, House Meer lacks the authority to enter into such a pact.”
Bestata opened her mouth, but Kosandion was still talking.
“House Meer is part of a nation. An agreement between that nation and the Dominion already exists. You are pledged to the Holy Anocracy. Make a different request.”
“So the word of the Dominion means nothing?” Bestata snarled.
Dagorkun sucked air in through his teeth.
“Too far,” Karat said in a sing-song voice.
An incoming communication tugged on me. I opened a screen and listened to it. Uh-oh.
An older male vampire stepped forward. “We were promised a boon. You must grant it. Those were the conditions.”
Resven stood. “Incorrect. You were promised an ask. The conditions of the contract which you have signed clearly state that the Dominion will consider all reasonable requests. Your request is not reasonable. Such a pact would be immediately void. Furthermore, it would bring the Holy Anocracy and the Dominion into conflict.”
“That is irrelevant!” Bestata crossed her arms.
“Petulant child,” Caldenia hissed.
“Grant our request!”
Karat rose and bellowed, her voice carrying through the stands. “Enough! You dishonor us all!”
Bestata spun toward her. “If House Krahr has a grievance, let them come down here and seek redress!”
Karat’s hand went to her sword.
Sean chuckled in my ear. “Let them fight.”
Sometimes I wondered if he actually understood this whole innkeeper thing.
The portal activated. Here they are.
“Lady Karat,” I said in what she called my scary-innkeeper voice. “Take your seat.”
She glared at me.
“Another party has a prior claim.”
Nine vampires marched across the bridge to the stage, the leader in front and the rest in pairs behind her. Vampire knights grew larger and more grizzled with age, but these knights were on another level, huge, broad-shouldered in their black armor, their swirling red cloaks making them seem even larger.
Karat’s expression went slack, and she dropped into her seat. Shock slapped Bestata’s face.
The newcomers stopped as one. Their leader, an imposing middle-aged knight with dark gray skin and piercing blue eyes, stared at House Meer and raised her arm, holding a scroll in her fist.
“An order from the Warlord,” she thundered.
House Meer took a knee.
The Warlord’s herald pressed the side of the scroll with her thumb. It snapped open, unfurling, the parchment dotted with the black glyphs of the Holy Anocracy’s script signed in red by the Warlord and marked with his sigil. I tossed the video message I had received five minutes ago onto the screens. The scroll was for House Meer, the proof of an official order. The video message was for everyone.
A massive older vampire in ornate armor stared at House Meer. Menace and authority radiated from him in equal parts. This was just a recording, but there was so much power and dominance in his eyes, I felt an urge to bow my head just so I wouldn’t have to hold that gaze.
“House Meer,” the Warlord intoned. It sounded like an accusation.
House Meer collectively flinched.
“Hasten to the High Castle, so you may witness the executions of your preceptor and your marshal while I ponder the fate of your house.”
The screens went dark.
The vampires didn’t blush and typically didn’t pale. But Bestata’s face turned an odd ashen shade, as if she had instantly become deathly ill.
“She’s doomed her uncle and her aunt,” Karat whispered in awe.
“Surely she bears no responsibility?” Dagorkun said. “Her house sent her here. She was ordered to do this.”
“You don’t understand.” Karat’s face turned sad and mournful. “House Meer refused to fight on Nexus. Cowardice is a sin, therefore they were judged by the Hierophant for that transgression. She is merciful, so she excommunicated them and hoped they would heed her warning. Instead, House Meer sent Bestata here with that ridiculous demand. That is treason, and traitors are judged by the Warlord. One does not look to the Warlord for mercy. He is not a forgiving man. He watched them, and as soon as Bestata and her knights entered the inn and had their communications stopped, the Warlord must’ve seized the marshal and the preceptor of their house. Nobody could warn her. If only she knew what had happened, she could have asked for something else, and her aunt and uncle might have lived. When she uttered those inane words demanding a pact, she swung the sword that will behead them.”