"My lord, please wake up! Something urgent requires your attention!" Thorpe's hurried voice pierced through my slumber, jolting me awake in a disheveled state.
"Calm down, Thorpe," I said, sliding open the heavy metal sarcophagus. My voice was steady, but my mind was already racing. "Have you composed yourself?" I asked, my gaze falling on Thorpe, who was steadying his breath through practiced Body Forging techniques.
"My lord, Marquis Raven has just returned from battle," Thorpe announced.
I raised an eyebrow. "That is cause for celebration. Why did you sound so panicked?"
Thorpe hesitated before answering, his voice grim. "Because, my lord, more than a third of the Marquis's men were killed in battle. Worse still, the Marquis himself was wounded."
I felt a chill run through me, my composure wavering. "How is that even possible, Thorpe?" I demanded, already moving towards the stairway that led out of the catacombs. "He only fought a minor noble one with neither prestige nor formidable forces. How could he suffer such a devastating blow?"
Thorpe followed closely behind, his expression tight. "My lord, I do not know the full details, only that something... something was at the Baron's castle."
His words left me with more questions than answers. "Where is the Marquis now?" I asked as we emerged from the stairwell.
"He was placed in the east wing of the Citadel, my lord."
Without another word, I strode toward the east wing, my pace quickening with every step. Thorpe barely kept up. When I reached the chamber, I pushed the doors open without hesitation.
"Marcel!" My voice rang through the room, drawing the attention of everyone present, including the injured man himself.
"Why are you so frantic, Kael?" Marcel asked, his tone puzzled. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and his right arm was secured in a brace.
I approached his bedside, my gaze narrowing. "I am frantic because I was told that my junior brother suffered serious injuries during his campaign."
Marcel merely chuckled, waving off my concern. "Oh, that. It's nothing serious. As you can see, I'm fine."
I clenched my fists. "Marcel, are you stupid?" My voice was laced with barely contained rage.
"Calm down, Kael." He adjusted the pillow supporting his back. "I'm telling you, it could have been much worse. I assure you."
I dragged a chair closer and sat down, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. As the nurses finished their tasks and exited the room, the air between us grew heavier.
Marcel exhaled deeply. "Is Suling all right? If not for her, my injuries could have been far worse."
I glanced at Thorpe, unsure of the answer. He stepped forward. "Captain Farling sustained a severe wound to the right thigh, but she will recover, Lord Raven."
Marcel nodded, relief evident on his face. "Good. At least she isn't beyond healing."
"Now, Marcel," I said, my voice firm. "Tell me. What caused this?" I motioned toward his injuries.
For a moment, he was silent. Then, he spoke. "Blood Cultists."
Hearing those words, my mood soured instantly. The rage within me surged, dark and murderous, so much so that Thorpe took a cautious step back.
"My lord, your aura " he started.
I exhaled sharply, reining in my fury. "I see. But Blood Cultists, while a nuisance, aren't strong enough to have done this. So, I ask again, Marcel how did you get injured?"
Instead of answering immediately, Marcel leaned over to the opposite side of the bed and reached for something. When he straightened, he held it up for me to see.
A golden bat pendant with blood rubies for eyes, attached to a fine golden chain.
The sight of it sent me reeling. My mind was thrown into chaos, drowning in memories memories of blood, the suffocating scent of death, the overwhelming despair of that fateful night.
"My lord!" Thorpe's voice snapped me back to the present. "Are you all right?"
I forced myself to focus, nodding stiffly. Then, I turned back to Marcel, my eyes dark. "So, Baron Gaston wasn't as useless as we thought."
Marcel exhaled, nodding. "If he was awarded a golden chain, that means he was on the verge of becoming an important figure within the cult for the monarch he served. He was soon to be turned into a Vampire."
I ran a hand through my hair. "That alone would have been problematic, but not enough to injure you this badly."
Marcel's expression darkened. "It wasn't just him. He had a household member of the monarch with him."
My interest piqued. "Which monarch?"
Marcel's eyes held a shadow of unease. "A massive black-feathered owl with blood-red eyes. It was fast, silent, and razor-sharp. That damn creature was the real reason I sustained such heavy losses."
A cold realization settled over me. "An owl…" I muttered.
"Monarch of Greed," Thorpe said behind me, his voice grim.
I cursed under my breath. "Shit. You're right. That was a household member of Greed's familiar."
Turning back to Marcel, I leaned forward. "You should be grateful it was only a household member. If it had been the actual familiar, neither you nor Captain Farling would have stood a chance."
Marcel chuckled, though the exhaustion in his eyes betrayed his relief. "Trust me, Kael, I know. I was lucky to get out alive. I lost more men than I ever should have, but at least I survived. And for that, I am grateful."
A heavy silence settled between us. The weight of our situation pressed down like an omen.
The war against the Monarchs was far from over. And now, we would have Greed to worry about. He will not let go of a losing follower, and it is to be expected that he will retaliate any time soon, so I will inevitably have to prepare.