The Vampire & Her Witch

"Does that put your mind at ease, High Lord Dirar? Enough to embrace your role as the last High Lord of the Southern Steppe and take your place among the lords of the Bloodroot Empire?"

Most of the great hall was still struggling to come to grips with the sudden announcement that the empire would encompass Blackwell and DuCoumont counties when Ashlynn asked her question.

For those who feared the Eldritch would overwhelm the humans of the Verdant Hills, the news that they’d be joined by one of the wealthiest counties of the Kingdom of Gaal along with one of the most influential was a welcome relief.

For others, like Lady Brighde, it was a ringing alarm bell. Ashlynn had announced her intention to negotiate for peace with Keating, but if she intended to devour one of Keating’s three counties in the process... Brighde didn’t have to think very hard to guess how her cousin, Duke Argidir Keating, would react.

Peace was unlikely to begin with. If Dylan DuCoumont followed his brother-in-law and joined his niece’s empire... it became utterly impossible. At the same time, if the Southern Steppe joined the empire while Rhys Blackwell cut off any hope of reinforcements from the old countries... Brighde had no idea how the ensuing war would end. The only thing she knew was that it would be far bloodier than the short campaign she’d expected when she sent Valeri Leufroy on his way with a letter for her cousin.

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha," Dirar’s rich, full-bellied laughter interrupted Brighde’s spiralling thoughts and brought the attention of the hall back to the High Lord and the Empresses.

"I surrender, I surrender," Dirar said, raising his hands. "I knew that Empress Nyrielle was formidable, and the Witch of Deep Currents told me that the Lord of the Blacksails was not to be underestimated... Clearly, the daughter has surpassed the father already," he said with a warm, rich chuckle.

"I will need time to make arrangements with my Herd Masters and City Lords," Dirar said. "And I expect that we’ll have a hundred or more minor details to resolve in the days to come. But these things are minor matters," Dirar said.

"You have me as your Lord of the Blood, Your Eternity, Your Dominion," he said, pressing the tips of his fingers to his chest as he bowed his head to both empresses. "And you’ll have your armies too."

When Dirar made his declaration, the central table burst into applause loud enough to shake the place settings.

The entire time, people like Heila, Virve, Isabell and Ollie had projected confidence as members of Ashlynn’s coven, but they all knew how high the stakes were. They knew that there were no guarantees that a High Lord would submit to Ashlynn and Nyrielle’s rule, and that without him, things would become much, much more difficult for the fledgling empire.

Once the central table erupted into applause, much of the room followed, even if people looked a bit dazed while their hands moved. Ashynn and Nyrielle had announced many things tonight, some of which brought great joy while others sounded like harbingers of disaster. No one could say for certain which category Dirar’s decision fell in, but the constant pulls back and forth between hope and dread left much of the audience overwhelmed.

Ashlynn could see it on their faces, and Nyrielle could too. It was past time for a feast to begin along with a proper celebration of the things that had transpired tonight, but now that they’d begun, they couldn’t leave things unfinished. Not when some of the most important pieces were yet to come.

"Thank you, Lord Dirar," Ashlynn said, smiling broadly at the equine lord. "There will be much to discuss in the days to come, and even more over the next year, but I’m grateful for your support and I look forward to the things we’ll achieve together."

"Just promise me that some time in the next year, you’ll visit the palace I’ve offered you," Dirar said in a tone that was both light and serious enough to know that the invitation was more than a simple courtesy. "Perhaps you’ll be able to bring the Willow Witch with you for a visit during the foaling season. I imagine it could be a great boon for my people and that it would go a long way to smoothing the transition to imperial rule," he said.

"I cannot make promises," Ashlynn said. "But I will make efforts to do what I can. Even if I cannot visit this foaling season, I will still find ways to send aid to your healers," she promised.

"I cannot ask for more than that," Dirar said, nodding his head in acceptance. "Unless, of course, this High Table of yours has some power to compel a Great Witch to act, but somehow, I doubt its powers are so exaggerated."

"The High Table is primarily concerned with the writing of the Empire’s laws," Ashlynn said, shaking her head. "The mechanisms aren’t important at the moment, but the intention is to ensure that each protectorate and heart has a voice in shaping the laws of the empire to the benefit of all."

"Even then, nothing will be written into imperial law without the support of the crown," Ashlynn added lightly, masking her warning behind a smile. "So I’m afraid you won’t be able to turn us into puppets of the aristocracy the way many of Gaal’s kings have been."

"I wouldn’t have it any other way," Dirar said. "I’m entrusting my fate and the fate of my people to a pair of strong and wise rulers who will reign for centuries," he said. "If you could be bound by the petty whims of smaller-minded men, it would not bode well for the world my children’s children will live in."

"Good that you understand," Nyrielle said, giving Dirar a genuine smile. One of the things that had already come to define their rule was that Nyrielle and Ashlynn expected to have hundreds of years to bring their vision to life.

They were building a foundation now that they would need in order to face challenges that would appear generations in the future in a way few kings or royal courts ever would. The combination of Nyrielle’s centuries of experience and Ashlynn’s ability to dream of brighter futures produced a uniquely disciplined ambition that aimed to deliver prosperity to the empire long after almost every lord in the room had crumbled to dust.

That was the fate Dirar truly surrendered to. Not just his own fate as the last High Lord of the Southern Steppe, but the fate of being bound to a pair of caretakers who would rule for hundreds of years to come.

But if he wanted the prosperity the empresses offered, he would have to ensure that the empire survived the crises currently facing it, and when it came to the fate of something as vast and powerful as the Bloodroot Empire was proving to be, even the stars held no answers for him. He could only trust his own judgment and trample on anything that got in their way...

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