Free Web NovelChapter 111: Chapter 111
Vampires were not originally from this land, so it was very possible that whatever was targeting them had not come from there either.
Their roots led back to the wild fae lands, back where their ancestors were little more than savage barbarians, creatures of the night in the truest sense.
Among the fae, vampires had once been the lowest of the low: feared, mistrusted, and judged for the terrible way they sustained themselves by consuming blood. To the rest of fae-kind, a being that fed on the life-blood of others was an abomination. The dregs of society that were to be shunned and reviled.
Marzen arrived at a time when they were desperate for a different kind of leadership. He possessed powers like no other vampire and carried himself with a type of certainty that convinced others he bore the mark of the old gods.
It took years for him to proclaim himself their new leader, but his rise was deliberate. He painted promises of freedom in broad, seductive strokes; a messianic patience that drew the desperate to his side. He presented himself as their savior and the vampires, hungry for hope and direction, supported him.
Nine thousand years ago, Marzen and his followers ripped through the veil that separated the fae lands from the human realms, tearing a wound in the magic that held the worlds apart.
That tear had never fully mended itself, and the magic hadn’t gone back to what it once was. It led to fae beasts like the Fenra traversing into the human realms during the winter solstice, a time when the veil’s protection dimmed and its magic was at its weakest.
The fresh start Marzen had promised never came. Instead of a sanctuary, he brought his people to a land its human inhabitants had lived in for generations.
Old history books praised Marzen as a brave, skilled fighter. They recorded battles where he and his army laid waste to towns and fields.
No one in the glossy pages ever lingered on the cruelty required to win that victory, or on how he continued expanding the territory he had seized by pillaging, burning, taking more and more from the living.
The freedom the vampires wanted had been carved out with other peoples’ blood. The land itself wore the scars of brutality, the soil stained by those who had been driven out or slaughtered.
Ragnar kept his eyes fixed on the dais even as a whispering current rippled through the throne room. If the king spoke so plainly and with such certainty, it meant he believed a creature like the Fenra was behind the disappearances.
That seemed likely, and yet questions nagged at Ragnar. If a beast were snatching people from the streets, why had no one reported seeing it? Where were the remains of its victims? The evidence did not match the urgency of the accusation, and that imbalance made Ragnar uneasy. He glanced around and found the same skepticism reflected on several faces in the assembly.
Although this was the first time the king had publicly addressed the matter, many of the courtiers wore expressions that suggested the crisis had been known to them long before the meeting. Privy to whispers and perhaps to secret reports, while some had been completely oblivious of the whole thing.
"I will implement a curfew in the most affected regions until the issue is resolved. Movements on the streets will now be restricted after sundown." The king’s voice was resolute; his decree landed like a gavel.
The reaction was immediate. Lord Armen sprang to his feet, the agitation visible in the twitching of his hands and the tightness around his mouth.
He was one of the more outspoken nobles, a man whose wealth and influence made him dangerous. He looked ready to lash out at the policy but forced himself to contain the ire so as not to offend the king.
"Your Highness, I implore you to reconsider," Lord Armen said, stepping closer to the dais in a pleading, measured rush. "A curfew will do more harm than good for Lamora. It will crush trade and drive honest people into hunger."
The king regarded him with a lazy, bored expression. "I do not remember putting the matter up for debate."
A wiser man might have taken the dismissal for what it was and withdrawn, but Armen pressed on, determined to make the monarch see the consequences in practical terms. "Your Majesty, think of the innkeepers, the tavern owners, those whose wages depend on nights for business. Restricting movement after sundown will halve their income. It will leave families without bread."
A lord in the crowd cut him off with open contempt, lips curled into a sneer. "So you value coin and booze more than the lives of our citizens?" His voice dripped with disgust. "Have you no heart? Have you thought of the victims’ families? Would you watch more people be taken if it means turning a profit?"
Armen turned a hard stare back at the man, his own voice losing none of its edge. "No one will care about the crisis if they cannot put food on their table."
"Not another word." The king’s voice dropped to a low, cold steel. His eyes hardened. "You may choose to argue until you run out of breath, but my decision stands. Any further opposition will be met with swift consequence." The final threat was aimed at Armen, who immediately sank into a deep, respectful bow.
In Lamora, the pattern was always the same: the king spoke, and his word became law. The courtiers knew their place and stayed quiet until given permission to speak, all while being careful not to risk angering the king. freёwebnovel.com
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Armen said, voice small and contrite, head bowed in genuine apology. He would not straighten until the king permits him to.
The queen, seated beside the king, remained silent throughout. Her face betrayed nothing; she had not spoken since the meeting began. Her silence, deliberate or otherwise, amplified the gravity of the king’s words.
Ignoring the bowed noble, the king concluded, "Our kingdom faces a crisis that, if mishandled, could wipe out a large portion of our populace. I will not tolerate divisive rhetoric in this court. Any one of us could be taken next, and neither wealth nor title will save you." His gaze swept the hall like a blade. "We will reconvene at a later date. You are dismissed."
The courtiers rose, murmured, and filed out beneath eyes that watched them go, each man and woman feeling, for a moment, the weight of the outcome that might follow.
