Day 0: 12 Hours, 36 Minutes, 03 Seconds
High atop the formidable white stone curtain wall, a line of sentinels stood motionless, their rigid forms silhouetted against the nascent light. They were the elite vampire guard of the supreme king, holding themselves with an air of unconcealed, predatory pride. The early morning sun, so beautiful to a human, was their greatest enemy, yet they stood prepared, encased completely in dense, obsidian armor that left not an inch of pale skin exposed. Only the strongest among them could overcome the sun's burning touch.
One of them, a sentry whose eyes, the color of fresh blood, were visible through the narrow slit of his visor, fixed his gaze on a desperate, scrambling figure far below. The man was flailing down the path, his feet finally meeting the king's paved road.
"Intruder approaching!" the vampire's voice boomed, amplified by his helm, carrying a chilling, guttural resonance that cut abruptly through the pleasant morning quiet. "Prepare the line!"
Instantly, the other armored figures moved with unnatural speed and precision. The clicking sound of steel against steel filled the air as they drew long, black arrows and notched them onto their bows, their coordinated movements a stark, lethal contrast to the gentle beauty of the dawn.
At the base of the wall, guarding a towering, two-story wooden door reinforced with iron bands, stood their captain, Benjamin. His armor seemed thicker, his stance wider, radiating unyielding authority.
As the fleeing man, Keith, stumbled within a hundred yards of the gates, the captain slowly raised a massive gauntleted hand. His voice, hard, devoid of emotion, and amplified by his own helm, was loud enough to overcome the man's frantic, wheezing panting. Keith looked as if he had never run a day in his life.
"Halt. Stop where you are," Benjamin ordered, his voice echoing off the stone.
The captain's command was absolute. Keith, the running man, did not hesitate; he stumbled to a wrenching stop, his chest heaving violently. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as he gasped raggedly for air, a disheveled mess of fear and exertion. The heavy silence of the morning descended, broken only by the man's ragged, wet breaths.
The captain, along with the archers above, regarded the man with cold, clinical scrutiny. The scent of him—sweat, raw fear, and the sour stink of stale ale and stomach bile—rose up to the wall, instantly confirming the guards' assumption of his low-born nature and wasted night.
Keith straightened slightly, trying to compose himself, his shoulders still twitching. "I was in the tavern—," he stammered, licking his dry lips and casting frantic glances over his shoulder. He wanted to speak to the guards inside the bowls of the castle, where they were safe and protected. Whatever beast was still on the loose, he didn't want to be its next victim. "I mean, everyone's dead! Blood! Sir, there's blood, so much blood!" He wheezed as he forced each word out, his voice tight with barely contained terror.
Smirking beneath his masked face, Benjamin couldn't help but roll his eyes, a subtle movement of his helm. The castle would not concern itself with a bloody brawl amongst the lower townsfolk. They were free to fight as long as they didn't disrupt the greater peace too much.
"You look as if you survived the scrimmage," Benjamin said dismissively. "Go home, and wash." The captain shifted his weight, clearly ready to turn and retreat behind the walls to maintain his post.
"No, please!" Keith screamed, his voice cracking as he immediately dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. He bowed his head, begging the guard for help. "Listen! The town is empty! This wasn't a brawl. It's a massacre! No one survived! I ran straight here!" He pleaded desperately for them to believe him, to listen, to go and look for themselves.
A few guards exchanged looks of professional disbelief over the wall. Benjamin hesitated for a moment, then indicated for six of the guards to descend and follow the man to the town. If the man had been lying, his blood would be drained before he was killed and given over to the necromancers.
Benjamin watched as the group of seven, including the trembling Keith, disappeared into the tree line, leaving the King's paved road for the dirt trail through the forest.
Jasper sat with his legs dangling over the stone balcony railing, watching the guards gather below and speak to the plump man from the town. He couldn't hear a word they were saying, but he knew that no one would risk their lives coming all the way to the castle unless it was for a serious reason.
Patrick's tall, rigid form bowed low to the passing kings, queens, and princesses as they moved toward the dining hall, offering each a polite, deferential smile and the respect they were due. His red eyes were particularly bright in the morning light. Once the king and queen had officially entered the breakfast hall and taken their seats, Patrick lifted his silver-tipped staff and banged it sharply on the polished stone floors three times, indicating that he required their attention.
"Give your greetings to the Supreme King and Queen of the Realm," Patrick commanded, bowing so low he practically bent his body in half, giving the maximum amount of respect he could offer. Others in the room followed suit, their morning conversations instantly ceasing. Patrick's back straightened just in time to see Prince Jasper step in from the balcony, slowly making his way back into the breakfast hall now that the meal had officially begun.
It was odd for Patrick to see Prince Jasper without Daniella nearby. But she was already seated at the dining table. Her body was stiff, and she did not possess the normal effervescence that always seemed to grab attention. She seemed reserved in a way she had never been, and Patrick didn't believe he had ever seen her head hung so low.
Patrick watched as the maids entered the breakfast hall, moving silently to place meals in front of each person, starting from the King and Queen and the Princes, before finally serving the Princesses.
Once the meal was underway and a low murmur of chatter could be heard amongst the Royals, Patrick discreetly made his way over toward Daniella's maid, Ida.
"Good morning, Ida!" Patrick's voice was quiet and light, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Ida's cheeks bloomed with color as she lowered her eyes, respectfully bowing her head to Patrick. "It is quite a lovely day so far!" Her smile was radiant, but Patrick was not all that interested at the moment.
Normally, he would press his luck and flirt with a beautiful maid, but he was more eager to discover what was going on with Daniella. After all, everyone in this castle were the eyes and ears of the King.
"I am glad you are well then. Your princess seems most unusual today," Patrick said, his eyes shifting over to Daniella's quiet, rigid form. From where they stood, they could see Jasper lean in and rest his palm gently on her leg, the gesture seeming comforting.
Josephine, another maid standing nearby, felt the need to lightly touch Ida's arm before she answered Patrick. It was not their place to talk about their young mistress. They had all been clearly warned by Jasper, and if they were to open their mouths and do anything that caused harm to Daniella or their Union, they would not see him coming.
Ida looked away from Patrick's glowing red eyes as she let her own eyes roam around the room. "Our princess is quite well. Not everyone knows she is a much deep thinker. Her mind is one of her most brilliant gifts."
What Ida said wasn't a lie, but it had nothing to do with Patrick's question, and they both knew it.
A young messenger maid walked over to Patrick. She raised her hand over her mouth and spoke so low that even a vampire would be unable to hear her unless they were right next to her, allowing the message to remain private between the two of them.
"There is a message, meant for the King! An urgent report! But it comes from the head guard of the castle walls! He will need permission to enter the castle!"
"Hmm," Patrick muttered, unwilling to have a rough castle wall guard stride brusquely into the refined dining hall. "I will go meet him in front of the castle."
Silently, Patrick slipped out of the dining hall, unnoticed by the diners inside, to retrieve the message.
"How are you feeling?" Miguel asked, his lip ever so slightly turned upwards in an almost-smile. His eyes intensely focused on Daniella across the table.
Daniella closed her eyes, her head still downturned, before opening them and lifting her neck to meet Miguel's gaze. "You are quite a surprise," her words filled with a quiet fury. She almost considered Miguel a friend, someone she hadn't needed to worry about on this marriage market, because it was clear neither one of them had a true interest in each other—maybe a passing fascination at best, but an interest would be a lie.
Miguel took a deep breath as Daniella's eyes met his. Her natural scent was perfuming the room, bathing his senses in the smell of malicious fury. She was an endless pit of volatility.
"Your kingdom relies on the cooperation of mine! I wonder how I will repay you for your kindness."
The table fell silent at Daniella's hushed words. She didn't shout, but it was clear she was fiercely angry. So angry that she boldly declared the demon kingdom was hers—not that she would be its queen, but its ultimate ruler.
The eyes of the table all shifted between Daniella's and Jasper's, wondering if he would say a word or refute her sentiment. But he kept eating his meal as if he hadn't heard a single thing.
"Such words are not normally spoken by a queen. Let alone a princess," Miguel leaned over the table, his forearms resting on the polished wood as he met her eyes just as fiercely.
"Allow me to be the first!" Daniella's body was buzzing with energy that she couldn't expel properly. She could feel it humming beneath her skin, begging to be used. The well of magic inside her was overflowing, an uncomfortable sensation beneath the skin that infused her words with an extra bit of venom, her power leaching into her tone.
"When I am Queen, I will control all trade between the demon Kingdom and all others. I wonder if the Wendigos will survive our future dealings. Let us hope gluttony does not get in the way!"
The tension between the two crackled, thick with words spoken and unspoken. Miguel hadn't expected Daniella's resolve to be so high. He had used his ability, but it had not succeeded, and that alone made him angry. For the second time, she had outmaneuvered him. His parents were still complaining about the contract he could not negotiate with her, and now even his power wasn't enough to bring her under his control.
"As a princess, your tongue is quite sharp," Linden spoke up, his agitation with Daniella having only grown. His father was considering making Linden the Crown Prince of the Beast Kingdom all because of the deal he was able to secure. His father's praise made no sense. His brother hadn't even made a deal; he was simply given a benefit.
He hadn't worked for anything, not like Linden, who secured his own benefits. But his father had decided to overlook them.
"Should my tongue be any less when I'm a princess, versus when I'm a queen?" The question was sharp, leaving very little room for Linden to navigate. He had walked himself into that one, his own agitation clumsying his thoughts.
"Your position would demand a difference!" Bella spoke up. The other princesses may have waved the white flag, but she wasn't fully ready to.
All of the other princesses had their heads bowed low, their lips sealed tight. Some even shook with fear as Daniella spoke. Bella hadn't been there; she didn't see what they had seen. She didn't know what Daniella could truly do. She was far more dangerous than any of them, maybe even the sovereigns. But whatever Daniella was, she was not something that could be toyed with. At this point, they all knew that they were lucky to have survived any scheme Daniella had crafted.
"Your voice is not required. Do not let me hear it again!" Daniella said without sparing Bella a look.
As the foolish woman went to open her mouth again, Jasper's wicked black eyes connected with hers—a silent warning.
Bella's lips clamped shut as she went back to eating her food, pointedly ignoring the conversation that she was apparently not allowed to participate in.
Turning her head, Daniella gave Jasper a strained, pleasant smile. He could see the lines of stress on her face, the way she looked strained. She gripped her fork far tighter than she ever would, and her body seemed far too rigid still. He only needed her to hang on for a bit longer.
The large doors to the breakfast hall were suddenly thrown open with a violent crash. The guards normally assigned to push the doors open and close still stood stiffly at attention as the doors were rudely shoved open. A disheveled Patrick caught his abrupt actions at the last moment, straightening his posture before quickly making his way over to the King, accompanied by a few of the King's advisors.
Patrick leaned over and whispered urgently to the King, "Almost the entire town has been massacred."
King Elderon's eyes widened momentarily before he schooled his expression once more. Standing to his feet, he wiped his mouth with his napkin before looking at the other kingdoms' Kings and Queens. He debated whether or not he should bring them to the town with him. But at present, they were just as much a suspect as anyone else was to him. For all he knew, it was them trying to sow unrest in his kingdom, to inflame the rumors of trolls attacking the villages and acting as if they had already made it to the capitals.
"No one leaves this room!" The King told Patrick, his voice low and commanding, before taking his Queen and advisors as they all swiftly exited the room. As soon as the King was gone, the room filled with guards, posted at every entrance and exit, blocking them. Every inch of the castle was now on high alert. Guards were positioned at every entrance, exit, doorway, and hall. There was nowhere a guard was not posted.
"What was that?"
"Do you think something happened?"
"He must have done something!" Eric said while leisurely pointing at Jasper. He was a little concerned that his father left him behind, but it only indicated that whatever was going on couldn't be that serious.
As the room descended into speculation on what was happening, only one person in the room was well aware of what would be discovered in the lower town, and he wasn't giving away any secrets.
King Elderon sat within the confines of his carriage, a striking vehicle of polished white oak and darkened glass, drawn by four massive, jet-black horses. The carriage was stationary in the dead center of the market square of Lower Town, serving as a stopover for those visiting the castle.
Outside the carriage stood his chief guard, Captain Cairo, a towering vampire whose dark armor contrasted sharply with the white wood of the King's transport. The vast majority of the King's warriors were encased in full, sun-shielding armor, but Cairo, a Headguard, could withstand the weak, filtered sunlight of the covered market for a significant duration.
Flanking the carriage door were the King's advisors: Lord Vysor, the Minister of Trade, and Lord Cassian, the Keeper of the Royal Seal. Both were grim-faced, understanding that this atrocity was a direct political threat. It couldn't be a miracle incident that a massacre would take place while all visiting sovereigns were at the castle.
A guard, his sun-proof armor dusty from the road, approached Cairo and delivered his report in a low, rapid whisper. Cairo listened intently, his expression hardening, before turning to face the carriage door.
"Your Majesty," Cairo's voice was measured, projecting just enough to be heard clearly by the King within and the advisors outside.
"Another report from the east quarter. A large establishment, the Gilded Anchor Inn. Utter slaughter."
A soft, almost inaudible voice emanated from the darkness of the carriage. "Do not omit the details." The King's patience had been very minimal of late. His mind was occupied with the woman with green eyes, the chess piece that he wanted on his board.
"The bodies are in the same state, Your Majesty," Cairo continued, addressing the white carriage. "Skin and bone meticulously separated from all organs and tissues. The blood untouched. The clientele included several high-value merchants—two from the Shades Kingdom, one from the Gargoyle Kingdom. They are all among the dead."
Lord Vysor, the Minister of Trade, immediately stepped forward, anxiety tightening his features. "Sire, this is a profound complication. The Gargoyle trade routes are critical. If they discover their talent met such an end on our soil, it invites culpability, perhaps even war. We must interpret the facts favorably."
Lord Cassian, the Keeper of the Royal Seal, spoke with cold resolve. "Cairo, issue an immediate order. These specific corpses—the merchant guests—must be removed and transported tonight. We cannot be tied to this. Leave the remains to be discovered by their own patrols. Let them believe it was an attack within their territory." The two advisors looked to the King, waiting to see what he would do.
"Do as you wish!" That was the least of his concerns.
For the next hour, guards and other warriors continued their grim reports, detailing the vanishing of nearly twenty thousand people.
The survivors, a mixture of non-magic users and lesser vampires, were now gathered, terrified, at the edges of the square, guarded by the King's thousand-strong legion.
Finally, Captain Cairo knocked once on the carriage door. "Your Majesty. All homes and businesses have been cleared and documented. We have secured twenty-one thousand survivors. The remainder are accounted for only by their flesh. The town is half-empty."
The carriage door cracked open just enough for Elderon's crimson-gloved hand to emerge and point toward the mass of frightened people.
"You are safe now!" the King commanded, his voice gaining volume, projecting over the square. "Round up every survivor. Tell them they are being moved to a location of enhanced security until the threat is identified."
He paused, then delivered the decree that his advisors had feared. The King was a ruthless man. It wasn't a hidden secret, but the town's people rarely got to see the King's darker side. It had been overshadowed by his son's charm, giving the impression that his father must be quite the same.
"We always need more workers in the mines. No one wants to live in a ghost town!" There were no such things as "workers" in the mines, the King knew. Anybody sent to the mines was not a worker, but a slave. And they normally would stay there until they died, or until he found a use for them. And now those that had been trapped in the mines for years had now regained their purpose for him. He would need people to repopulate the town.
Lord Vysor began to protest, "Your Majesty, the sheer logistics of moving twenty thousand souls, and the security risk—" He thought it would be better to just slaughter the rest of them—a clean sweep of the town.
"We have promised some slaves freedom. This is their chance. I'm a kind King who keeps his word!" Elderon interrupted, his voice now a dangerous, icy snarl. "Also, it is a shame that Lord Veyron was in the lower town visiting his mistress. He too died. We will be investigating his death. The only death." As long as blood was already spilled, King Elderon intended to make the best of it.
Lord Cassian bowed low, accepting the decree. "Your will is absolute, My King. The survivors will be secured and transported under the highest guard. The news will be managed. We will announce a localized, severe plague to discourage inquiry."
"And the town's future?" Elderon asked.
"It will be secured, Sire," Cassian replied. "I will issue decrees tonight for immediate repopulation. We will select wealthy, loyal families from the inner kingdoms. They will be given incentives to occupy these vacant homes by month's end. Lower Town will be whole again." They knew they couldn't populate the entire town with slaves, only a select few who would earn their freedom.
The King nodded once, a gesture of cold satisfaction.
"Be sure to discover what happened to Lord Veyron. What an unusually gruesome way to die."
Elderon rapped his knuckles sharply on the inner panel of the carriage. The driver immediately spurred the horses.
Without a backward glance at the carnage or the thousands destined for the mines, the King's white carriage turned smoothly and began its ascent, leaving the chaos and the cover-up to Captain Cairo and his advisors as it climbed the winding path back up to the towering castle.