Impure: Revelation

By J. R. Bailey

As darkness spills down from the north and stains all it touches with sin, a den of vampires known as the Great Citadel reaches out with its snaking hands. A change in the winds is signified by the death of an emperorand the time for retribution has come.

No one desires vengeance more than Koristad Altessor, a young necromancer and son of the legendary Black Guardian. Although it has been nearly twenty years since the Vampire King murdered his father, stole his throne, and then unleashed barbarians upon the defenseless villages of the foothills, Koristads thirst to kill the evil king remains unquenched. As he relentlessly searches for the monster and attempts to protect those he loves, Koristads own legend begins to take shape. With the powerful Executor Blade in hand, he sets his sights upon the Great Citadel and the Vampire King. But now only time will tell if he is prepared for the terrible secrets he may find there.

In this continuing tale, a child of darkness instigates a mission of revenge against the lord of all vampiresa conflict destined to shake the very pillars of hell and test him in ways he never imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491733769

J. R. Bailey

J. R. Bailey began writing as a child after his first encounter with a typewriter and has never stopped. He is an eccentric dreamer who spends more time exploring the worlds of his imagination than the one at his fingertips. He currently resides in southern Nebraska.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 J R Bailey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3374-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3375-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3376-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014908103

iUniverse rev. date: 06/16/2014

Contents

Chapter One A Night Of Men And Monsters

Chapter Two A Guardian, Like His Father Before Him

Chapter Three Perfume Of Smoke And Thunder

Chapter Four As Fate Decrees

Chapter Five White Mouse In A Den Of Black Cats

Chapter Six Fear In Black Places

Chapter Seven The Living And The Dead

Chapter Eight These Last Rays Of Sunshine, Bleak And Cold

Chapter Nine Monster And Master

Chapter Ten Simple Beauty In Abstractions

For Jodi

Chapter One

A NIGHT OF MEN AND MONSTERS

Bewildered, I gawk at a figure wearing my own face.

Can’t you tell? it says. This is only a dream.

You mean you’re merely a character in my dream? I reply.

I’m sorry, the answer bleakly tolls. I’m not.

1

D ARKNESS HAD DESCENDED UPON the fields surrounding the capital city of Highcrest, sending the weary residents of the outlying villages and townships to their beds. But there was a monster winding its way through the broad plains and rolling hills—a vast serpent that bellowed vapor and travelled with a deafening roar. It wrapped its lanky coils around entire hillocks before speeding on, unraveling its massive length across the fields. In spite of the commotion, the sleepy communities paid the creature no mind—this was a common sight, here if nowhere else in the vast empire. It was a steam train, rumbling along its tracks on some late night er rand.

As the vast machine charged through a blanket of deep shadows, two dark figures stole their way onboard, leaping deftly from an arched bridge overhead. By the time the cars sped into the moonlight once again, the pair had already vanished from sight.

Many of the cars were loaded with freight of every kind, transporting goods from one end of the capital to the other. This had always been the key purpose of the rail system—which was, without a doubt, the greatest technological achievement of the empire. But some saw profit in using the system as a means of transit, as well, and coaches near the front of the train were meant for carrying travelers.

The passenger cars were dotted with windows on either side, displaying their brightly lit interiors and luxurious, cushioned seats, alongside dark and elegant woodwork. At this late hour, the seats were all but vacant. However, a young woman peered out from one of the softly arched windows, wonder in her eyes. Her complexion was fair and she had chestnut locks, and often she would turn her gentle eyes to the interior of the carriage to flash an unseen companion an innocent smile.

She pointed with glee as the train rounded a bend and shot out across the edge of a lake, the surface of the water reflecting the bright sea of stars above, as if the heavens had come down to touch the earth. The radiance shimmered as the train sped by and, before she knew it, the lake of stars had given way to other lights—hundreds of houses stretched across the landscape, one more footnote in the vastness that was the capital.

She felt another hand rest upon hers, softly, caressing her skin as delicately as a cool breeze. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to face the other passenger, a man with dark, shoulder length hair. He was dressed elegantly and, though he was clearly many years her senior, the girl seemed captivated by his charming words and striking looks. Aside from these two, the carriage was eerily vacant, leaving the courters alone.

The man leaned forward and whispered softly in her ear. She blushed and smiled, drawing closer as he spoke. She felt his fingers slide slowly up her back and into her hair. He wrapped his fingers through the long, soft strands and pulled them, tenderly, and the girl gasped with both surprise and pleasure. He kissed her lips passionately and, for the young girl who had never been kissed before, his embrace seemed almost magical. She shivered with anticipation as he ran his lips down her soft neck, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.

She shut her eyes tight as the world began to whirl around her. She felt embarrassed—she knew she was trembling, but she couldn’t contain her excitement. Rapturous waves of sensation cascaded down her body. This feeling wasn’t merely confined to the flesh her companion was kissing so tenderly, but seemed to envelop her entire being, sinking deep into her heart.

With her eyes closed, she wasn’t certain what was happening to her—her body felt hot all over, like she was burning up. But the man’s flesh was cool to the touch, mild and soothing. She felt herself breathing rapidly, sharp intakes of honey-sweet air. She couldn’t seem to open her eyes. But she didn’t find herself in a muted darkness—her entire world had slipped toward an oppressive shade of crimson.

What was happening to her?

She snapped to her senses with a gasp as her companion pulled away. Her arms were still wrapped around him, hands clinging desperately to his back, fingertips aching under the trembling pressure. She felt light headed, as if she might faint, and tears were running down her cheeks—she couldn’t imagine why.

Her eyes filled with longing and desire, she gazed upon her companion. But, as her lustful vision began to clear, her expression changed. Desire gave way to abject horror.

This wasn’t the man she’d boarded the train with—his eyes were no longer kind and gentle, but reflected a savage monstrosity. He was like a feral beast; a nightmare. Long fangs stood exposed behind his lips, and bright red blood was smeared across his chin. Her hand shot to her neck and, when she pulled it away, her white palm was stained scarlet.

She screamed, trying to push the man away, but he pinned her arms above her head with monstrous, inhuman strength. Powerless, the young girl went limp and began to sob, shutting her eyes tight. Her lips moved rapidly as she begged for mercy, or cried for someone to help her, or simply said her final prayer to Aura. She bore the countenance of one who knows she is about to die—unprepared and hopeless. She could do nothing as the monster drew close and began to feed once again.

Her fear subsided as the sharp fangs penetrated her body—terror overwhelmed by lust. She didn’t notice when her attacker released her wrists; she didn’t use her freedom to try to escape, nor did she scream for help. She wrapped her arms around his body, drawing him in close, and wouldn’t let go. Her entire being was filled with ecstasy like nothing she had ever known, and she cried out with pleasure.

2

"I S SHE ALRIGHT?" a train official asked uncertainly as a young woman stooped over the motionless girl, placing her fingers lightly upon her pale w rist.

The woman was short, with long blonde hair, and her frame and demeanor seemed almost childlike. The official would have thrown her off the train immediately for not having a ticket, were it not for the bronze amulet she wore around her neck, molded into the shape of a blazing sun. The token designated her as a lightwielder, a child of Aura, and interfering with the work of their holy order was a criminal trespass, sometimes worthy of execution.

He watched attentively as the girl cast her lovely, blue eyes toward the ground and her fair, delicate features grew still as stone. She wore a modish dress of the purest white, traced with fine and elegant embroidery; it laced over her curvaceous chest and fastened tightly just under her neck. The man couldn’t help but admire her beauty, but as he looked on he saw her bottom lip had begun to quiver.

She’s dead, the girl whimpered, slumping down to the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The official saw her eyes were red and glossed over with tears. He hadn’t expected such a reaction from a lightwielder.

Miss Peril? he questioned as he stooped down, bringing himself as near to eye level with the young girl as he could.

This is the third woman we’ve found like this tonight! she cried out suddenly, sobbing and wiping away the tears that had begun streaming down her face. The monster couldn’t possibly still be hungry! It’s only feeding out of lust!

The mention of the vampire that was allegedly running loose on the train sent a shiver down the official’s spine. He glanced over his shoulder to the back of the car, but it was still vacant. The lightwielders were supposed to be holy warriors who dealt swift death to dark monsters, defending the citizens of the empire—but he was beginning to doubt this young girl could do anything to stop the blood drinking fiend. She didn’t even carry a weapon. He suddenly felt more responsible for her safety than the other way around.

Are you certain you can face a vampire alone? he asked, doubt plain in his voice.

Peril sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling herself to her feet.

I’m not alone, she explained. I boarded the train with a friend. I can sense him and the vampire near the end of the train—he’s almost caught up to it, now. By the time I get there, the monster will probably already be dealt with.

3

T HE VAMPIRE CREPT ACROSS the narrow ledge of a rumbling freight car, the uneven ground screaming by just a few feet below. On his left were stacks of rough logs, timber on its way to the heart of the capital, piled high and fixed to the bed with heavy chains. The wind rustled madly through his hair and clothes—an ordinary man might have found it difficult to keep his balance while moving at such great velocity. But he pressed on with the ease and grace of a cat, seeming oblivious to the bone shattering drop just a few inches away.

He sniffed the air like a beast. Even with the wind scattering any odors, his magnificently keen senses were able to detect the scent of blood. It was sweet and enticing, the blood of an innocent young girl, but her mortal essence was mixed with that of the divine—a child of Aura. He had no interest in dealing with their kind, and so he’d fled, and it appeared the lightwielder hadn’t bothered to follow.

He was beginning to think he could make his escape without being seen—then he heard the frenzied rustling of fabric ahead of him, caught by the rushing air. He turned his predatory eyes toward the source: a man wrapped in a long, sackcloth cloak. He stood motionless on the far side of the carriage, the full moon shining bright in the sky behind him, his long, dark hair tousled by the wind.

The cloak he wore was of an unusual style, with a high collar that obscured the bottom half of his face, rather than a hood. Two weapons were holstered to his back, both of impressive dimension. One was similar to a halberd, though its blade made up nearly as much of the weapon’s length as the haft. The instrument had a long reach, and the keen edge was wrought of sanctified steel, an alloy that could bring pain and death to even the darkest monster. Its shape was keenly reminiscent of the blade of a guillotine, with a wide base and a sharply tapered edge.

The second weapon was a broad bladed sword, meant to be wielded with both hands, nearly as long as its wielder was tall. The instrument’s sheath concealed the blade, but the cross-guard swept up elegantly toward the point, and the handle was bound with dark leather. Its pommel was shaped like an inverted pyramid, remarkable for both its plainness and its perfection.

In spite of the large and intimidating weaponry, the bearer appeared quite young—not yet even a man. He was tall for his age, and scrawny, but his eyes were fierce. Even the vampire shrunk back before those eyes. Around his neck hung the sun-symbol of the children of Aura, but the vampire knew at once this was no lightwielder.

I smell a child of darkness, he hissed knowingly at his interceptor. Why do you wear that cursed idol?

The man in the cloak stuck out his chin and crossed his arms over his chest.

They call me a proxy lightwielder, he explained in a calm voice, eyes never wavering from his adversary, even as the world whipped by around them. My name is Koristad Altessor, son of Arach the Black Guardian. I’m here to stop you before you can hurt anyone else.

The vampire grinned wickedly and replied, "You stop me? Where does this confidence come from? I am the darkness itself—I am one of the immortals. You are nothing to me, boy."

Koristad smiled and answered back, I like the sound of that. It’s almost as if you might prove to be a real challenge. He sighed and cracked his knuckles, But you appear to be unarmed. How do you plan on fighting me?

He drew the sword from his back, the ring of leather on steel scattering on the wind as the naked blade flashed in the moonlight. This was the legendary Executor Blade, a holy weapon meant to be wielded by the high executor that had, by chance or fate, found its way into the young necromancer’s hands.

With a deep scowl, the vampire took a step forward and wrapped its white fingers around one of the thick chains that secured the stack of logs to the car. The monster’s muscles grew tense and he let out a grunt of exertion. The heavy, iron links snapped with a metallic pop, loud as a cracking whip, as the vampire towed the long cable free of its bonds. The stack of logs groaned and shifted dangerously, and may have spilled over both sides (taking both of the men with them), but the other anchors held firm.

With a malevolent sneer, the vampire wrapped the chain around his arm. The iron was heavy, and certainly never meant to be a weapon—even a strong man would have found it almost impossible to swing, especially while trying to balance on the edge of a moving rail car. But in an instant the metal links were whirling over the vampire’s head, buzzing through the air with a high pitched scream. It appeared his enemy wasn’t as unarmed as Koristad had thought.

I couldn’t just keep my mouth shut, could I? he groaned to himself, shaking his head.

The makeshift implement was remarkably fast and deadly; Koristad leapt back, quick as a fleeting shadow, as the iron whirred frighteningly close to his body. The stack of timber absorbed the impact, the velocity of the outermost links turning the wood into a shower of splinters and debris.

As dangerous as the heavy chain seemed to be, it bore a considerable weakness. Its momentum was lost as it struck the impediment, and it would take a moment for it to be readied again, even by the preternaturally quick monster. Koristad adjusted his balance and made a wild lunge toward his opponent, sword poised for a powerful crosscut. He didn’t even check his footing, the danger of the narrow ledge and racing ground below purged from his mind in the instant before the attack.

The monster pulled the thick chain taut and held it before him to absorb the strike, the iron links bending to the point of breaking before they finally stopped the deadly sword.

You’re much sturdier than a mere necromancer, the vampire said with a grimace, arms shaking. And your speed rivals that of the immortals. You’re more than you seem, aren’t you, proxy lightwielder?

I’m only getting started!

With a feral growl, the vampire feinted his attack, causing Koristad to stumble forward before he could check his balance. It was now quite plain who had the edge in raw strength. The monster made a broad, backwards leap onto the next carriage, this one stacked high with crates covered in brown canvas. He slid to a rough stop, struggling to steady his momentum and keep hold of his makeshift weapon.

By the time Koristad had regained his balance, the deadly chain was spinning through the air once again. He grimaced at the weapon—its motion was too rapid and unpredictable to keep track of. He had to do something about the implement—if he allowed the vampire to continue fighting with it, it would only be a matter of time before he was on the receiving end.

The chain screamed toward him, a high swing aimed for his skull. He immediately dropped to one knee and held the Executor Blade over his head. The links struck the sword, nearly knocking it from his hands, but he held on tight, refusing to let go. The chain wrapped around the blade over and over, holding it firm, and the vampire grinned at his assailant.

I have you now, proxy lightwielder, he gloated. You can lose your sword, or you can hold on and be thrown from the train. Either way, this battle is over.

Koristad’s response was instantaneous and decisive—in a sudden, powerful motion, he thrust the point of the Executor Blade into the stack of timber, burying the blade midway to the hilt. The vampire yanked on the chain to free it, but it was stuck tight.

Quick as a flash, Koristad drew the halberd from his back and dashed toward his enemy. The vampire’s face was filled with astonishment and fear. At the last moment, the monster released his grip on the iron links—relinquishing his only weapon—but it was too late. The sanctified steel slashed through his outstretched arm, severing it with a spurt of dark blood.

The vampire didn’t cry out, but grabbed hold of his hemorrhaging remnant with his other hand. He fell backwards, hanging head and shoulders over the ledge and nearly falling to the rushing ground below. Koristad stood over the monster, his halberd raised to deliver a final, devastating blow.

What are you waiting for, lightwielder? the vampire snarled with ire when the weapon didn’t fall. "I’m not expecting any mercy from your kind!"

Koristad let out a sharp breath. His mind screamed to deliver the killing strike, but the blade wouldn’t fall. Looking down at the creature, his eyes refused to see a blood drinking monster. They saw a man, weak and hurt, facing the last moments of his life.

They saw the dying face of the artificer, Ralyn Lourdess—a man who had died by his hand.

In that split second of hesitation, the vampire slipped willfully out of Koristad’s reach, landing on the dark ground with a grunt and tumbling across the earth with bone shattering speed. He watched the monster vanish into the darkness, still unable to bring himself to move.

Koristad! he heard Peril’s voice carry on the wind. Are you alright? What happened?

He turned and saw her not far off, standing within the open doorway of the nearest passenger carriage. She hadn’t dared to take a step onto the dangerous freight cars. The bright lights from within framed her slim figure, and he could see an expression of worry on her face.

I…I don’t know, he spat out angrily as he fought to wrest the Executor Blade from its confinement. I hesitated.

Peril watched him with concern in her eyes. He thought there was even a hint of pity in her expression. He wondered if she understood what had truly happened to him.

Let’s go! he barked, dropping to one knee so she could jump onto his back. We can still find him!

Peril didn’t hesitate before wrapping her arms around Koristad’s shoulders and letting herself be carried. Koristad’s preternatural speed was the only chance they had of catching their quarry, and she didn’t want to see any more of the monster’s victims—not if there was a chance it could still be stopped. Koristad may have hesitated once, but she had faith he wouldn’t allow such a murderous creature to get away. Not while there was still life left in him.

That was just the kind of man he was.

4

P ERIL CLUNG TO KORISTAD’S shoulders as he raced across the black country, fleet as a gust of wind. From aboard the train, she’d thought they’d been traveling through a lonely swath of fields and hills, the lights of the capital and its long, outstretched arms merely shimmering in the distance. However, they hadn’t ventured far from the tracks before they began to find houses, fences, and high walls to impede their prog ress.

Dogs barked madly at the pair as they passed, the clamor echoing in the darkness. Soon, lights began to flicker into existence within the sleepy homes. Koristad was beginning to grumble with agitation—finding the vampire would be difficult enough, but it would be nearly impossible if a throng of disgruntled citizens began to file into the streets.

Are you sure it’s this way? he demanded shortly. I don’t see anything.

Peril glanced left and right over his shoulders, mouth cocked to one side.

I can sense him over that way! she yelled in her shrill voice, pointing emphatically.

Are you lost? Koristad sighed with exasperation. We just came from that way!

He must have doubled back to try and lose us, I guess…, Peril spoke doubtfully—she hadn’t any insight into the monster’s actions or motivations, but she was certain she could feel the vampire’s presence nearby.

This is my fault, he growled bitterly. I should have finished him on the train.

There’s no reason to think about that! Peril insisted. We can still find him before he has a chance to attack anyone else!

With you leading the way? Koristad muttered back, his voice was thick with cynicism. Do you really sense the vampire, or are you just messing with me?

Would you just listen to me and go that way!? Peril seethed at him, gesturing toward a knoll near the edge of the community.

The prominence appeared bare aside from a few small saplings and an iron weather vane, wrought in the image of a knight on a charging warhorse. Koristad may have continued to ignore Peril’s urging, but he caught sight of a shadow flitting across a nearby walkway. It was so slight, so nearly imperceptible, it could have been an alley cat or leaves blowing in the wind. But some unnatural sense told Koristad that wasn’t the case—perhaps some deeply buried faith in Peril’s abilities.

In an instant, they were at the base of the hill—just in time to spy the vampire dashing across its summit, oblivious to their presence and clutching its bloody stump of an arm. He moved with frightening speed, in spite of his injury, and Peril was struck with a sudden doubt they could catch the creature on foot—especially while Koristad was carrying her on his back.

Without warning, a pillar of wood and steel burst from the shadows, striking the vampire square in the chest with a resounding thud. The monster’s eyes were wide as it was lifted into the night air. He hadn’t even spotted his attacker until it was too late—he hadn’t stood a chance.

A man with short, blonde hair and clad in heavy armor stepped into the light, holding the heavy spear upright and allowing the pull of gravity to push the broad head deeper into his victim’s ribcage. The bright, full moon framed the grisly scene: the vampire stared down at his attacker with fear and disbelief, looking into eyes that reflected no emotion, as a river of blood washed down the wooden shaft.

With a twist of the pike, the monster’s heart was shredded to bits, utterly obliterated. The only thing that had kept the unnatural host’s body together was evil, tainted magic; with its heart destroyed, flesh and bones became ash in an instant. Only the clothes remained, hanging on the end of the spear like a tattered flag.

Vincent! Peril cried, hopping down from Koristad’s back and racing up the hill.

Paladin Vincent Night turned toward her voice, his cold, blue eyes sweeping back and forth through the darkness until he spotted Koristad. There was no anxiety in the gesture, and after he’d spotted the necromancer, his attention returned to the young girl.

Miss Peril, I’m glad to see you’re safe, he said stoically. Though I wonder how safe you really are, tagging along with someone who can’t slay even a lowly ghoul.

Koristad scowled and shot back, I’m sure it takes a lot of nerve to talk that way about someone who saved your life, once.

You saved me?’ Vincent said. It was Peril who saved my life. You merely happened to be there."

Koristad clenched his jaw tight, eyeing the lightwielder lividly. Peril sighed. Even after everything that had happened, it seemed nothing had changed between them.

That thing was a ghoul? Peril asked, eager to change the subject. I don’t understand…it was drinking blood. Doesn’t that mean it was a vampire?

You should ask your companion, Vincent replied. He would know. He’s practically one of them.

Koristad, grimacing at the paladin, explained, A vampire is the end result of a necromancer who has pushed their magic too far. A ghoul is what an ordinary human becomes if fed the blood of a vampire. Though, in some places ghouls are called vampires, and vampires are known as vampire lords or vampire mages.

The key difference, Vincent elaborated, is that vampires are true horrors of the night, with powerful necromancy at their disposal. A ghoul is nothing but a cheap imitation.

How is it that you don’t already know this? Koristad sighed. Don’t they teach you anything at the sanctuary?

Of course they do! It’s just…I’m still learning! Peril’s face turned a deep shade of crimson.

Vincent dropped to one knee and removed the tangled mess of clothing that had become wound around his weapon. Peril saw the tip was wide and shaped like a four-edged broad-head arrow. The blades were sharply twisted and shone brightly in the dark. They were wrought of sanctified steel.

I’ve never seen you carry a weapon like that before, she said softly.

Its purpose is specific, Vincent explained. I only carry it when I hunt the undead. A vampire, or ghoul, can only be slain if its heart is destroyed—this implement accomplishes that task with brutal efficiency, as you’ve seen.

You were hunting this ghoul, then?

I wasn’t, he replied. But there have been a rash of ghoul attacks in Highcrest recently, which is the reason I’m thusly armed. I chased this one down only because I thought I sensed two of the undead together—so far, they’ve only been found alone. It was quite a surprise to find the second ghoul was only you, Koristad.

Is that supposed to be a joke? the necromancer growled.

Not at all, the paladin returned. The difference between your blood and theirs is almost imperceptible—more like a ghoul than a vampire, or even a necromancer.

Koristad’s face flushed red. He took a step toward Vincent, no doubt preparing to say something he would regret later, but Peril quickly placed herself between the pair.

Will you two stop it! she cried, stomping her foot. You haven’t seen each other for almost two years, and you’re already fighting!

You have my sincerest apologies, Miss Peril, Vincent said, bowing his head. It was not my intention to trouble you.

Peril looked up at Vincent and blushed. His tone was cold and calm, though not so much as it had once been. His proud, handsome features somehow seemed warmer as well, but perhaps it was only a trick of the moonlight.

As I said, I wasn’t hunting this particular ghoul, Vincent went on. I was on my way to a gala that’s being held in the heart of the city by the local aristocracy.

A gala? Koristad snorted. You were on your way to a party. I’m surprised a noble like you could find the time for hunting monsters.

Don’t misunderstand, necromancer, he replied, It’s true I was bred an aristocrat. But when I was blessed with the power of Aura, I became a lightwielder. Many vows are demanded of us. Among them is a vow of poverty. I relinquished all rights to title and inheritance when I took my place within the order. My purpose at this gala is as a protector, not a guest.

What’s the occasion? Peril asked eagerly, imagining a magnificent gathering with wonderful music and bright lights; delicious food and fancy dresses. And dancing. She wished she could attend.

When have the rich ever needed a reason for celebration? Koristad stated acerbically.

That’s very true, Vincent said, shocking the necromancer with his accord. This is by no means a holiday. If you want my opinion, the lords and ladies are playing nice and trying to curry favor among one another. It’s been kept quiet, but the emperor has taken ill. He’s believed to be on his deathbed. There’s some contention over who will be his successor—there may be a shift in power very soon.

He’s dying? Koristad questioned dubiously. Sounds suspicious. It wasn’t long ago the high executor passed.

Vincent shrugged and answered, "High Executor Kanan was an elderly man. His death was a tragedy, but not a surprise. The emperor isn’t nearly as feeble, but he’s being cared for by High Executor Gabrial Night, my esteemed cousin.