Page 62 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

No one dared speak. As the second most powerful vampire in Valenul, Loren wasn’t one to be trifled with. Even if Madan hadn’t suffered at the General’s hands, he wouldn’t have questioned the man—not in front of the entire Council.

Madan sank back into his chair, not wishing to appear ready for a debate. Though Damen remained on his feet, he looked at his son with uncertainty.

“Our numbers are growing.” Loren took the silence as his moment to stand. “My numbers are growing.”

Gods, Madan didn’t like the sound of that. The implications of having so many soldiers at Loren’s command were tremendous. Now that he’d gotten rid of Azriel and played the Princeps right back into his pocket…he may very well have shifted the power out of Markus Harlow’s hands without anyone realizing.

And though Madan could see it, he could do nothing about it.

Nonetheless, he glanced at Alek to see if the other Lord Governor could sense the sudden spike of authority in Loren’s tone. Beside him, Alek remained neutral. Upon catching Madan’s look, however, he narrowed his eyes and nodded once. He felt it, too.

“I was asked here tonight to speak on this very matter by our Lord Princeps.” Loren smirked without looking at Markus. “I am more than happy to provide additional resources for the outer reaches of our Provinces, particularly those closest to the Keonis Mountains.”

Madan’s stomach sank. The knots already twisting there tightened. He clenched his fist and turned his eyes to Markus, hoping the silent plea could be seen by the Princeps. This would not end up well for Eastwood or Waer.

Yet when Markus spoke, Madan’s hope sank even more. “Very good, General. I had hoped for such assistance to be granted to our most susceptible communities.”

“Indeed, my Lord.” Loren rapped his knuckles twice on the table. The swift knock jolted through Madan like a blade—the same sound he’d heard when strapped to that cellar table when Loren had grown tired of his cries. “I have several battalions ready to be distributed between the Provinces, though according to Lord Caldwell’s numbers, less will be required of Notten.”

Damen frowned, turning his pale eyes to his son. “Excuse me?”

The General’s smirk returned, and he flickered his attention to Madan. “Lord Caldwell claims the Notten raids will end with five hundred soldiers. I will give him more to ensure the safety of both Province’s people.”

“There is a risk with the Irem Tundra—”

“Nonsense,” Loren said, cutting his father off with a wave of his hand. “Studies have shown very few dhemons reside in the tundra and therefore present very little risk to Northecrosse.”

Alek then leaned forward in his chair. “I do not believe I have requested additional soldiers.”

Loren cocked his head as though not understanding the Lord Governor’s words. “Did I not just hear an outcry for equality from your Lower Council? I am but your humble servant, my Lord. Accept my assistance, and rest assured your Province will be all the safer for it so you may bring your beautiful new bride home in peace.”

And with those few words, Madan saw the shift in Markus’s face from passivity to ruthless determination. The Princeps struck Alek down with a single, hard glare and said, “Is this not the best solution for all involved?”

Jaw flexing, Alek returned the vicious look and bit out, “Of course, my Lord Princeps.”

Whatever had happened between the two Caersans in Madan’s absence had been terrible. Though Markus and Alek had never appeared to be close, neither had they been so vastly separated. The wedge between them, Madan guessed, was Emillie.

He needed to speak with Alek—or his younger half-sister—to piece together the missing parts of this puzzle.

To make matters worse, Madan had forced himself into a corner. He didn’t want more of Loren’s men in Eastwood. He had no use for them—not with the dhemons at his command. Not with Ehrun’s fading presence. But with more vampire soldiers in the area, Whelan and his friends would be forced to evacuate. Such a move would leave Madan very much alone.

So when the time came for a vote, Madan had no choice. He raised his hand in agreement to the movement of troops within his Province, and at the conclusion of the meeting, a heavy dread settled into his gut for what would happen next.

The Hub sat in the farthest reaches of the Central Province. With Loren’s access to every military steed available along the road from Laeton, he had no issues making the journey faster than most. Arriving at the Council Chambers when he did had been exactly as he planned. He needed the Lord Governors’ attention and for the Princeps to see he was unperturbed by small setbacks.

So, after the Council meeting concluded, he set off back to his main home. The return journey was faster. A mere two hours of hard riding, exchanging horses as he went. While the stallions tired at regular intervals, he did not.

The best part about being a Caersan vampire was his ability to regenerate energy and strength at a high pace. It was what kept him going through delivering two hundred lashes to Azriel and how he rose to his place as the General of Valenul—a feared and respected position that allowed him the ability to walk into the Council Chambers late without repercussions.

When he finally arrived at the Hub, the northern gates opened for him long before he reached them. He sped through, reining in the horse only once he had crossed the threshold. Soldiers hurried out of his way, providing him a wide berth as he dismounted and left the stallion, where he stopped in the middle of the main courtyard.

Someone else would take care of the beast, not him.

At the heart of the Hub, the officer building rose above the rest. While the three-story barracks building created a ring, like an inner wall, that impressive bit of architecture paled in comparison to the structure at the center.

Made of alabaster stone, the massive, free-standing circular tower rose seven stories high. Glass-paned windows marked each floor at regular intervals, and from his position in the courtyard, Loren could see that of his office on the third floor. He would not be going there this evening, however. He had another meeting on the docket—one he had planned nights ago.

He did not need to open the door when he arrived at the entrance. The guard stationed there bowed him through to the broad entry beyond. A staircase ran up the right side of the room to the second story, and the floor underfoot was bare stone. A balcony overlooked the entry, at the far side of which were two massive doors. Long crimson flags hung down the walls with two crossed swords stitched in silver. Between their points rested a crescent, points down—a call to Lake Cypher at the heart of Valenul and homage to the God of the Underworld, Keon, who created the Keonis Mountains and Valley.

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