Dark meeting

“WHAT IS THAT?!” Pietta tumbled out of a torn dark portal, landing in a heap on the blighted soil before the skeletal throne.

“Nyaa!” Uetum tumbled out of another portal not long after. The air in the corrupted forest was thick with tension. Several of Yarte’s other captains watched their ungraceful return in silence.

“I see many of my trolls have been defeated…” One of them said, it was horned general, Marutur, he doesn’t look happy.

Pietta scrambled to her feet, her face contorted with fury. “That Anna!” she seethed, shaking with rage. “That vampire definitely set us up! How is it that the very moment we appear, the Saint herself descends from the heavens?! That was the real Ars Caelus you were fighting, Uetum!”

Uetum, who was busy trying to straighten the bell on her collar, just tilted her head, her big yellow eyes wide with confusion.

“Nyaa? Uetum was in real danger?” she asked, completely missing the point. “I thought it was Anna-chan’s plan for us to have a big, flashy fight…”

“She fought a holy weapon to a standstill and she’s worried about her bell,” a royal vampire muttered under his breath.

“No!” Uetum suddenly exclaimed, her ears perking up as a thought finally broke through. “Nya! Uetum understand! That means the Saint is really still here, nya! She never left!”

Pietta nodded grimly, her anger momentarily replaced by calculation. “Exactly. Serenya is still protecting Frola, and someone is calling that fake Saint in the temple! It couldn’t be Serenya, which means...”

“Are you saying,” Lord Yarte’s voice boomed from his throne, cold and heavy as a tombstone, “It was Anna who calls the saint?”

Pietta froze, terror washing over her face. She immediately dropped into a low bow, her forehead nearly touching the ground. “No, Lord Yarte! Not at all! I take it back! You are never wrong!”

Yarte’s burning white eyes scanned his court. “You’re wrong, Pietta. That vampire followed my orders. My senses confirmed it; she placed the seeds of Morvanium within the barracks, just as I commanded.” He paused, the fires in his eyes flaring with a deep hatred.

“But then she appeared. The Saint. And purified them all… I despise that woman. Both of them! Serenya… Bella!”

Just then, a sleek wolfkin, Pirtor, with silver fur padded forward, kneeling before the throne. “Lord Yarte,” he reported, his voice a low growl.

“A new report from our scouts. The corruption in the forest near the capital has yet again stopped spreading. And the Ironwood farm… it has been purified. Again. Just now.”

Yarte’s skeletal hand tightened on the arm of his throne. The Saint was undoing his work everywhere. It was as if she was mocking him. He turned his gaze to Pietta. “Now. Where is the vampire’s location now?”

Pietta closed her eyes, focusing on the connection from the seed she’d given Anna. A moment later, she answered. “She is in the bedroom, Lord Yarte. In the knights’ barracks. I can see it… she’s sleeping soundly on the bed, hugging her sword.”

Yarte processed the information. His new agent’s mission was thwarted by his greatest enemy. The farm he’d personally seen corrupted was cleansed by that same enemy.

He wasn’t mad at Anna. He was furious at the Saint for so perfectly and personally stomping out his every move.

“THAT DAMNED SAINT!!!”

A shockwave of pure rage erupted from the throne, blasting outwards, sending his captains staggering and ripping the blighted leaves from the trees around them.

He turned his skull towards Pirtor, the wolfkin scout.

“How long?” Yarte’s voice was a low growl. “At this rate of interruption, how long until the corruption roots touch the capital?”

Pirtor bowed his head, his voice grim. “If her interventions continue, my lord… perhaps five days. Maybe more.”

Five days. Yarte rose from his throne, his towering form casting a long, skeletal shadow over his assembled captains.

“If this goes on longer I may release the Ruinhorn sooner…”

Demidicus the vampire smiled, “I suggest not, my Lord. He will be our ace. If we use him now without any corruption near the city, he would die easily.”

Yarte looks at him, “This changes nothing, except the method!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the blighted trees.

“Your new primary objective is this: Hunt Serenya! Find the real Saint, and kill her! I will not take ‘no, she’s too strong’ for an answer! I will not accept any reason for failure! We are the Wardens of Morvanium! One girl should not be an issue!”

A terrified silence fell over the court. Pietta and Uetum trembled, not daring to speak. Even the other, more seasoned captains shifted uncomfortably. To hunt a wielder of Ars Caelus was a suicide mission.

It was Demidicus again who broke the silence, he did not question the order, only the strategy. “Lord Yarte,” he began, bowing his head slightly. “A direct hunt across the entire kingdom may be… inefficient. The Saint’s location is unknown. She appears and vanishes at will. To find her, we would need to spread our forces thin, leaving the main corruption front vulnerable to the knights.”

The horned demon, Marutur looked down on him, “You’re weak Demi, I can fight her! With my army!”

Demidicus looked confused, “Really now? You?” he asked, as if he did not believe him.

Before Yarte could retort, the lithe dark elf captain, Helartha, stepped forward, “Demidicus is correct, my lord. Why should we hunt the mouse,” she said, her voice like silk, “when we can make the mouse come to the trap?”

Yarte’s burning gaze fixed on her. “Explain.”

“We do not need to find the Saint if we can force her to find us,” Helartha continued, her eyes gleaming. 

“We consolidate our power. We choose a single, high-value target within Frola itself. Something the ‘protector of the people’ cannot possibly ignore. The Great Cathedral at noon. The orphanage, perhaps. We create a crisis so public and so profound that she must reveal herself to stop it. And when she does… we will be waiting. All of us. In an ambush of our own choosing.”

Demidicus sighed, “That’s too humanlike. The fake saint, Bella probably has already protected all of that. Your plan is flawed, darling.”

The raw anger in Yarte’s demeanor subsided, replaced by a cold, calculating appreciation.

“A fine strategy, Helartha, but Demidicus is correct.” the lich rumbled, a sound akin to stones grinding together. “Bella is also something we cannot ignore.” He turned to his horned general. “Marutur, you will continue to press the main force. Keep the knights occupied at the forest’s edge. Helartha, you will stick to spying. Pietta, Uetum,” he said, his gaze falling upon the two girls. “You will continue to corrupt, accelerate it with the usual rate, and for Anna. Report her every move.”

The court bowed as one. “As you command, Lord Yarte.”

“What about the mine, Lord?” Pietta asked, “Do I still need to continue?”

“Not now. We have to focus on Serenya first.”