[The End of Osamu Ashikaga]: The Conscience of Our Race

Takemikazuchi stumbled up the long staircase ascending towards Heaven’s golden palace. With so many gods and servants dead at Izanami’s hands, the realm had grown quieter than usual. Gone were the sounds of women laughing by the fountains, the footsteps of sauntering servants, and the political debates of gods. All that remained was the whisper of the wind and splashing droplets of water springing from the tiered, marble fountain that served as the centerpiece for the courtyard.

He stopped in front of the fountain, staring at his own reflection in the rippling water. The golden light and warmth of heaven had faded in Amaterasu’s absence. Instead, the realm was cloaked in a deep, cold darkness.

Though Heaven had seen rare bouts of nightfall, this was different. Even in Heaven, Osamu’s eldritch eclipse hung high in the sky. The western horizon glowed with a ghostly, orange glow while stars twinkled like tiny lights in the rest of the sky.

Takemikazuchi continued up the steps of Heaven’s palace and pushed open the double doored entrance. A pair of raven-haired goddesses in bloodstained, white robes shot onto their feet upon Takemikazuchi’s entrance. They wiped their swollen eyes with their sleeves and bowed their heads as he approached them, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Lord Takemikazuchi!” one of the goddesses cried. “What’s happened? Why isn’t it stopping? Even Heaven has been benighted!”

“Where’s Amatsu?” Takemikazuchi asked.

Puzzled, the goddesses exchanged glances before one of them answered. “Amatsu? He’s in the War Room, I think. He’s still recovering from his injuries.”

“I see.” Takemikazuchi said.

As one of the goddesses raised their heads, Takemikazuchi pulled his sword from its sheathe and drove the blade straight through her stomach. The other goddess screamed with such fright that her voice shattered and cracked. She turned and ran down the hall as Takemikazuchi pulled his sword out of the other goddess’s body, leaving her to bleed out and spasm on the marble floor.

He aimed the tip of his blade at the fleeing goddess and shot off a fireball at her back. Flames engulfed her body from head to toe, burning away her hair and melting the gold necklaces into her blistering skin.

Takemikazuchi marched down the hall with his sword in hand and his mind focused solely on the order Osamu gave him; kill the remaining gods in Heaven. Takemikazuchi turned right and kicked open the door to the library, finding a five more goddesses taking refuge by candlelight. They immediately sensed something wasn’t right with Takemikazuchi and stood from their seats in alarm.

They had no time to react before Takemikazuchi shot four fireballs in their direction. The goddesses scattered and screamed as the flames consumed their table. Three of the goddesses’ robes caught fire from the sparks spewing off the wooden desk. The white robes with golden trim had always been a symbol of divinity in Heaven, and yet the fabric was flammable and burned quickly.

Within seconds, the three goddesses became walking bonfires. The other two goddesses escaped out the back door, their terrified screams traveling down the halls of Heaven’s palace.

“He’s killing us!” one of the goddesses wept. “Get out of here!”

Amatsu and Omononushi faintly heard their horrified screams through the closed doors of the candlelit War Room. Omononushi stood from his seat and rushed towards the door.

“What’s going on?” Amatsu asked.

“Stay here, Amatsu! I’ll go check it out.” Omononushi said.

Omononushi closed the door behind him and ran in the direction of the screams. Before he turned the corner, the halls exploded with dozens of deafening cries of agony. The crackle and orange glow of fire spilled out from the opened doors of the dining hall where many of the gods were resting after the battle.

Realizing Heaven was under attack, Omononushi sprinted for the dining hall, finding dozens of burning gods and goddesses flailing about on the floor. Flames consumed every tablecloth, dining chair, and golden chandelier in the room, filling it with a noxious, black smoke.

Omononushi ran towards one of the flaming goddesses, clasping his hands and spraying her with divine water from his palm. The water hissed against the flames as it evaporated into steam. With the flames doused, he held the goddesses head with both of his hands to get her to look at him.

“Hey! Hey, stay with me!” Omononushi cried as the other burning gods continued to scream in the background. “You’re gonna be alright! Just hang on!”

The goddess he saved squeezed his hand and closed her eyes tight, groaning in agony. “It hurts! It hurts!”

“I know, just hang in there! You’ll get help soon!” Omononushi assured, pulling her fingers off his hand.

The mournful wails of a little girl drew Omononushi to the back wall of the dining hall. A large, red blotch of blood stained the white wall, crimson streaks running all the way down to the base boards. A bald, elderly god lied beneath the red blotch with his back against the wall and his head slumped. The cries came from a child servant dressed in red robes with gold trim, her auburn hair tied into a ponytail.

She nudged the elderly god’s knee repeatedly, but he would not move.

“Please help!” the girl sobbed. “My grandpa won’t wake up!”

Omononushi knelt by the old god’s body and lifted his head. He put his index and middle fingers on the man’s neck to feel for a pulse, but felt nothing.

“I’ll get your grandpa some help!” Omononushi said, lying to help the girl calm down. “But you need to get out of here! Run out that door, out the palace, and make a right at the courtyard! That’ll take you to the garden! You can hide in the greenhouse there!”

The girl nodded in compliance, her face soaked with tears. “Okay…”

“Go! Quickly!” Omonunshi urged, prompting the girl to run to safety.

Omononushi ran through the flaming dining hall, following the sounds of even more screaming in the direction of the amphitheater.

Takemikazuchi was completely silent as he pursued the fleeing gods and servants. Running for the amphitheater, some of the gods carried screaming child servants in their arms, fearing they wouldn’t be able to outrun Takemikazuchi.

The gods already in the amphitheater opened the wooden double-door entrance to the floor, waving their hands inward.

“Get inside! Hurry!” urged a young god with short, blonde hair.

Dozens of terrified gods and goddesses rushed through the doors. They set down the child servants and handed them off to the young, female servants that rushed in to help.

“Follow me! Hide at the top, behind the seats!” cried one of the servants, grabbing the hands of two scared, crying boys in her hands.

“What the hell is happening?” one of the gods asked, his hazel eyes wide with fear.

“It’s Takemikazuchi! I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” a goddess answered, the right side of her face covered with blood as she clutched her burnt arm.

“Watch that doorway! He was chasing us!” warned a middle-aged, raven haired god, his left leg bleeding through his white trousers. A young goddess dressed in red robes had his arm slung across her shoulder to help him walk towards the back of the amphitheater to hide.

Takemikazuchi tried kicking down the door, the slam of his foot causing the hinges to squeak and the people on the other side to shriek in fear. While the servants and goddesses ran to hide behind cover, the male gods aimed their palms at the doorway. They lied in wait for Takemikazuchi, hoping to ambush him the moment he broke the door.

Takemikazuchi stepped back and aimed his blade at the door, sending forth an explosive fireball. The door was blown inward and flew off its hinges. A thick cloud of black smoke flooded the room and blanketed the entire amphitheater. The toxic fumes of burning wood and metal stung everyone’s eyes and throats, making them all break out into coughing fits.

Hearing the coughs, Takemikazuchi ran through the smoke with a torn piece of his sleeve tied around his nose and mouth. He fired off a massive, explosive fireball into the second-story seats ahead. The explosion instantly killed most of the child servants and their guardians. The leftover flames scorched those who survived the blast, filling the room with their pained screams.

The gods waiting to ambush Takemikazuchi fired off a volley of golden flames and bolts of lighting at him. Their concentrated fire produced flashes of golden and blue light in the room as Takemikazuchi’s body was scorched and electrified. The skin on his left arm was completely burnt off from the golden flames, and the lightning served to make his muscles tense up, holding him in place.

His sword burned hot with a hellish, red light as he let out a vicious scream. He aimed his blade at the gods ambushing him and fired a scattershot of fireballs that showered the entire room. Some of the gods managed to duck for cover while others were immolated where they stood. They fell to the ground and tried to roll the flames away, but Takemikazuchi’s fire didn’t stop burning until they were well and truly dead.

With the ambushers cleared, Takemikazuchi sauntered through the floor of the amphitheater. His ears caught the sounds of a child servant, a little girl, gargling on her own blood as she lied on the floor with a piece of broken wood stuck in her chest. Seeing him walk towards her, the girl flipped herself over on her side and tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood as she dragged herself across the floor.

“Help me!” the girl wept, her large, round eyes dyed red by the blood running down her face. “Someone help!”

Takemikazuchi slammed his foot against her tiny back and stabbed his sword through the back of her head, killing her instantly.

Suddenly, Omononushi’s voice cried out from the doorway. “Stop this!”

Omononushi summoned a sunlight javelin in his right hand and threw it at Takemikazuchi. The javelin struck his right wrist as he turned to deflect it with his blade. His wrist completely blown apart by the javelin, Takemikazuchi dropped his sword. The surviving gods in the amphitheater sprung out of their hiding spots and bombarded Takemikazuchi with a flurry of sharpened ice. The ice pierced him like dozens of tiny, melting blades, cutting right through his right lung, kidney, and throat.

Blood seeped from the litany of exit wounds peppered across his body, staining his white robes red. Takemikazuchi fell to his knees, then flat on his face. He groaned like a wounded lion as he lied on the floor, slowly bleeding out in the burning amphitheater.

“He’s down!” one of the gods shouted.

Omononushi rushed in and kicked his sword across the room, far away from him. “Get these flames doused and help any wounded! Hurry!”

The few gods that remained sprung into action, showering the flames consuming the second story with gusts of frost. One the flames were out, they leapt up onto the second floor and called out for survivors, stepping over the charred bodies of children and the servants that died trying to protect them.

The bodies were burnt so horrifically that the hair and facial features of the victims were all gone. Their blackened flesh had all but fused to the charred wood they were cooked alive on. The sight was enough to make some of the surviving gods and goddesses cry out and vomit in disgust.

Omononushi kicked Takemikazuchi onto his back. He fell to his knees and pulled Takemikazuchi by the collar of the tunic beneath his haori.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Omononushi screamed. “Why did you do this? Why?”

Takemikazuchi managed to squeeze out a few words through his labored, raspy breathing. “Osamu…sends his regards….”

Omononushi looked down at Takemikazuchi’s hands, his brows jumping up as he noticed they were clasped tight. Takemikazuchi’s body began to burn with a fiery, orange light. The gods putting out the fires across the amphitheater stopped as they noticed the sudden light in the middle of the room. They stood with their mouths agape, petrified like statues.

“Get out of here!” Omononushi screamed in vain.

The light flashed with a blinding intensity before Takemikazuchi’s body exploded like an incendiary bomb. The explosion instantly killed everyone in the amphitheater and ripped Heaven’s palace apart from the inside out.

The roof of the amphitheater collapsed in on itself, and the entrance hall as well as the dining hall were buried beneath the rubble of broken support beams and chunks of the vaulted ceiling. The blast blew down the doors of the Warm Room and sucked the air out of Amatsu’s lungs, knocking him against the wall and rendering him unconscious.

Heaven’s palace, once a symbol of the Shinto pantheon’s strength and glory, was engulfed in vicious, red flames. The burning palace became the only source of light in the benighted realm, a massive conflagration shining in the darkness. For thousands of years, they had taken Amaterasu’s eternal light for granted.

They relied on her radiance for warmth and comfort, and yet they plotted and schemed against her while basking in her light. Now, in it darkest hour, the flames of self-immolation was the only light available to the pantheon.

The nightmarish eclipse hung in the raven sky like a flaming halo, witnessing the razing of Heaven’s palace with an unflinching gaze. Takemikazuchi was dead, and he had taken nearly all that remained of the Shinto pantheon with him, just as Osamu ordered.

Tsukiakari’s eyes peeled open for the first time since she passed out in the fight with Osamu and Hima. To her surprise, she didn’t wake up in either Heaven nor the Underworld. She awoke in her bad at Moonglow castle. She felt an immense pressure on her stomach and lifted the blankets to inspect it. Thick layers of gauze had been wrapped around her stomach to compress the wound she suffered.

Aside from being able to move her arms and head, she couldn’t lift her legs and get herself out of bed. It was like her bones were made of iron. Tsukiakari turned her head to see Izanami sitting beside her, asleep in her chair. Izanami woke up the moment she head the ruffling of Tsukiakari’s blanket. She got onto her feet and threw the covers back onto Tsukiakari’s body, her eyes darkened and baggy.

“Gekko! Try not to move. You have a pretty serious wound.” Izanami advised.

“What…happened?” Tsukiakari groaned.

Izanami looked out the bedside window to the impenetrable darkness outside. The whole world had been plunged into darkness. Not a single ray of sunlight remained, not even for Wales.

“I went back to find you as soon as I recovered from my wounds.” Izanami explained. “We’re back at Moonglow right now. I managed to pull you out of Fukuoka before the place sank into the ocean. I didn’t want to come back here, but Japan is ground zero for the apocalypse. Moonglow was the safest place I could take us.

“Fukuoka…sank?”

Izanami nodded her head, her eyes dull and lifeless. “Yeah. Kyushua as a whole will probably sink, too.”

“What about Aika? Did you guys warn her?”

Just hearing her name brought Izanami to tears. She motioned her lips as if to speak, but got choked up before a single word came out. She turned away from Tsukiakari, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Izanami? What happened to Aika?”

“…She’s dead, Gekko. She was in Kyushu when Osamu attacked the island. She and her family were being evacuated, but their plane was attacked. It crashed into the ocean. No one survived. Not even her little boy…”

“No…no way. He killed Aika? Her whole family too?”

Izanami wiped her reddened eyes with her wrist. “He’ll stop at nothing. Osamu’s going to change the world his way, no matter what it costs. And who can stop him now? The Exorcist Program is in shambles. The pantheon’s been slaughtered. The world’s armies aren’t enough to fight back what’s coming. He’s really done it. He’s going to destroy the world and no one can do anything about it.”

Tsukiakari’s head sunk into her pillow as she laid her arm across her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head side-to side. She bit her lip and tried to stifle her sobs, but imagining what horror Aika and her family endured in their final moments proved all too devastating for her to keep bottled up.

Some small part of her believed Osamu would never hurt Aika. She thought he’d have some plan in mind to spare her from the slaughter of Dark Dawn. Instead, Osamu proved that even Aika, her husband, and her son were all expendable. Their lives were stepping stones for his ultimate goal of achieving everlasting world peace.

The whole world would share Aika’s fate. The whole world would suffer the same horror Aika did on a massive, unprecedented scale. Men, women, and children of all races, creeds, and cultures would all be exterminated together. Civilization itself would be burned, buried, and crushed in accordance to Osamu’s will.

The thought of such an atrocity being carried out on such a terrifying scale only made the Tsukiakari’s tears that much more difficult to hold back.

“I couldn’t stop them.” Tsukiakari wept. “The world’s blood is on my hands.”

“Please don’t say that…” Izanami begged, grabbing Tsukiakari’s hand with her own.

“What do we do, Izanami? What the hell are we supposed to do now? He used us and he won.”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Izanami murmured, wiping her tears away again. “For now, we’re safe here at Moonglow. I have to go back to Japan and make sure that Rei is safe too. Once that’s done, I’ll come back here and we’ll figure out what’s next.”

A sudden knock upon the door startled them both. Shinju’s voice rang out from the other side. “Izanami. We need to talk.”

“Come in, Shinju.” Izanami said.

Shinju stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Seeing Tsukiakari had come to, she walked over to her and sat at her bedside. Tsukiakari’s skin was sickly and pale, her eyes darkened and her lips flaky with dead, cracked skin.

“Hey there, Gekko.” Shinju said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I lost a lot of blood and nearly died.” Tsukiakari said.

Shinju scoffed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. We weren’t expecting you to wake up so soon. I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated Izanami’s skills.”

“How long’s it been?” Tsukiakari asked.

“Not long, just a few hours since I brought you here.” Izanami answered.

“Feels like I’ve been out for weeks. I can barely move.” Tsukiakari said. “Where’s Osamu and Hima?”

“I don’t know. If they’re not here, I assume they’re in Minavere right now.” Izanami said. “Shinju, did you happen to hear anything?”

“I heard Annabel and Carmilla talking a little while ago.” Shinju began. “It sounds like something big is happening in Minavere.”

“Something big? What do you mean?” Izanami asked.

The return to Minavere began with a blast of freezing air and snow in Osamu’s face. The cold stung his cuts and caused his bruises to ache. Despite the pain, he walked hand-in-hand with Hima down the slippery, frozen streets. Cars passing them by honked in celebration, while people on the sidewalks stopped and cheered for their king and queen.

Hundreds of men, women, and children came out into the bitter, cold snow just to praise their lords. Their applause and cheers crescendoed in a deafening white noise as thousands upon thousands ran out from their homes, opened up their windows, and chimed in from the passenger seats of their vehicles.

Smiles bloomed on the faces of everyone around them. The eyes of the elderly glimmered with tears of relief, while the faces young boys and girls alike beamed with excitement. The young men and women that formed the backbone of Minavere began to stand on top of their vehicles and roar into the sky. Their voices shook the very earth and threatened to pierce the heavens.

“Fight together! Die together! Fight together! Die together!”

Osamu stopped as an elderly woman with long, white hair approached him. He could hardly see her face beneath her fur-lined hood and red, knit scarf, but her blue eyes stuck shined like full moons in the winter.

“Welcome home, Lord Osamu.” the woman said, bowing her head. She held a black, fur coat in her hands, offering it to Osamu. “We heard your message loud and clear. My husband was captured in the Second Great Holy War. They held him prisoner in Japan and tortured him endlessly. When they didn’t give him what they wanted, they killed him. To this day, the Japanese refused to return his remains to me.

“I’ve waited so long for this day, my lord. The Japanese people, humanity as a whole…everyday, I wished for those animals to be wiped off the face of this earth. Now, it’s finally happening. Thank you, my lord! Thank you so much! Please, accept this. A black, fur coat was a symbol of high rank in the old country. Officers who wore this were handpicked by Lord Dracula himself. This belonged to my late husband. Now it belongs to you.

“Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Keep going until mankind has been annihilated. Let them feel the wrath of all those they killed, and all those still grieving for their loved ones to this day. Our race has been battered and shamed long enough. You and Lord Hima can create a better world for our people. Minavere entrusts you with it.”

Osamu rubbed his hands across the fur, his hands sinking into its softness and warmth. “Thank you. I accept this gift. Your husband is watching this now with a smile on his face. I’ll crush the human race and destroy every nation on this planet. That’s a promise.”

Osamu threw on his black, fur coat and grabbed hold of Hima’s hand as the people of Minavere continued to scream Inari’s old adage. The benighted sky was dazzled by the emerald glow of the aurora shining above Yakutsk, casting a dark, green shade over the land. Osamu and Hima continued their march to the steps of the hotel, where Carmilla, Borya, and Annabel stood in wait for them.

Osamu and Hima were expecting to see smiles on their faces, but as Carmilla stepped forth with lips in a straight line, it became clear she and the other lords had deep concerns.

“Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.” Carmilla said.

“Don’t we get a ‘welcome home’ first? Do you have any idea what we just did?” Hima asked.

“I said come inside.” Carmilla urged.

Osamu and Hima left behind the roaring crowd and ascended up the steps with Carmilla and the others. They stepped inside the hotel lobby and shut the door behind them.

“Carmilla? You mind telling us what’s going on?” Hima questioned.

Carmilla walked everyone over to the bar, where the other Yakutsk lords sat with each other in booth seats and barstools. Their tables were littered with empty shot glasses and half-filled wine bottles, the fumes of vodka filling the air. Their eyes were glued to the television hanging above the bar.

The last time Osamu had been through the lounge, he distinctly remembered there being far more people hanging around. The only ones there today were the Yakutsk lords. The television was turned up loudly, forcing everyone within earshot to pay attention to what was playing.

It was a live broadcast from a local news channel. The feed was coming from inside a building that instantly reminded Osamu of Germany’s Bundestag. It was a large, parliament chamber built in the shape of a semi-circle.

Gray-haired men and stone-faced women sat upon chairs lined behind curved, black desks. The seats were arranged in semi-circle fashion with the desks facing inward towards the podium.

The room was filled with suits, ties, and vests, with many of those in attendance wearing heavy, felt coats and wool scarves. The man at the podium swept his hand through his curly, gray hair before adjusting the black-rimmed reading glasses on his face. He wore a golden ring on his right pinky and a silver marriage band on his left ring finger.

“You’ve started a real firestorm, Osamu.” Nastasia warned through her black veil. “All the members of the Scarlet Senate are in attendance, including Johan Sommer. Looks like he’s got a lot to say about the state of the world.”

Osamu and Hima took their seats at the booth with Nastasia and listened closely.

“Yet again, our race stands at the great fork in the road of destiny.” Johan began, his voice booming across the senate chamber. “We face a decision far more momentous and consequential than that of Dracula’s choice to found the Vampirical Monarchy. The lords of Yakutsk, in all their foolishness and ultranationalist delusion, have put Osamu Ashikaga into power, the man who has just initiated the genocide of mankind.

“This is the second time now that our race has entrusted a leader who went off to drag us all into a war of conquest and carnage, who made every man, woman, and child under him complicit in the erasure of entire peoples and cultures. Dracula’s ambitions were the death of him and his nation, yet even his single-minded wants pale in comparison to the catastrophic plans of the current regime.

“It is not just one country or one people that will be punished in this conflict. This is not a war between nations. This is a war against humanity itself. And while we must never forget humanity’s brutalization of our people, we cannot ignore our part in the chaos that has plagued the supernatural world. How many people did the old regime wipe out? How many innocents fell before vampirical daggers? How many nations yielded to our cruelty?

“Those chants outside? Do you hear them? ‘Fight together, die together.’ This adage has sewn the eyes of our people shut with threads of iron. That is the chant of a generation of vampires engorged with aimless hatred and pain. Their enemies are long dead, yet the venom left behind by the Second Great Holy War, a war engineered by Dracula himself, remains. Osamu, Hima, the Yakutsk lords, and all who follow them are now directing generations of untapped hatred at our enemy’s descendants.

“Billions of men, women, and children who share no blame in our race’s downfall will now pay for the crimes their ancestors committed centuries ago. In what world is that fair? In what world is that justice? As we were once the perpetrators of genocide ourselves, we have a god-ordained duty to stop and think about what it is we’re supporting.

“Genocide is not the answer, and as a proud people, we cannot be complicit in this systematic annihilation of human life. We cannot fail the test put before us by God and the winds of destiny. This is our chance to correct the misdeeds of the past and to answer generations of vitriol with a collective call for peace. This is a challenge to our race to reject the ambition of Lords Osamu and Hima to push this world into an epoch of oblivion.

“For it is when a nation is uprooted and its people most embittered that leaders like Osamu and Hima parasitize the body politic of the state and its population. They galvanize the broken race of a nation with genocidal gospel and false promises. The moral and ethical rot that ensues metastasizes into every facet of the nation’s identity, and so that nation dons a legacy of chaos, conquest, and slaughter. It is the duty of all moral, intelligent, and sentient beings to repudiate such destructive dogma.

“It is my sincerest hope, and the hope of the entire United Pacifist Party, that our lords, Osamu Ashikaga and Hima Chinagaregawa, do not bloody the hands of our people, that they do not follow in the footsteps of Lord Dracula’s phantom. It is the hope of the entire world that this slaughter ends before humanity is laid to waste.”

Osamu snatched one of the opened bottles of wine off the table and drank from it. “One problem after another…”

“These are the people you warned us about before, Carmilla?” Hima asked.

Carmilla nodded as she crossed her arms. “Yeah. The Socialist and Liberal parties all formed a coalition in the Scarlet Senate a few years back. The purpose was to form a political bloc that could advance isolationist and democratic socialist policies in Yakutsk and the Sakha Republic.

“Seems like they’ve also absorbed members of the Democratic Party to bolster their ranks. Johan and his party are all vampires. If they had their way, Minavere would never expand its borders beyond Yakutsk. Pacifism and isolationism are their two most important tenets, especially now since you’ve decided to wipe out humanity, Osamu.”

“The bastards are little more than tools of the Kremlin. They’re trying to keep a tight leash on us.” Borislav said, downing his shot of vodka.

“The Kremlin?” Osamu repeated, his eyes widening in surprise. “I thought the Russian government didn’t know you guys were here.”

“Well…that’s a bit of a longer story.” Anastasia admitted. “The top brass of the Russian Ministry of Internal affairs know of us. The KGB did as well, before they were dissolved and reorganized into the FSB.”

Carmilla walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of malt whiskey. She sat at the booth across from Osamu and set the bottle down between them, handing short glasses to everyone.

Carmilla sat back in her seat with a heavy sigh. “You’re all gonna want something a little stronger for the story you’re about to hear.”

Osamu pour himself a glass, then handed the bottle to Hima. It then went from Hima to Annabel, then to the rest of the Yakutsk lords. Once everyone had their drinks ready, Carmilla knocked back her glass and pounded against the wooden table.

“When I organized Yakutsk as a safe haven for vampires, I initially did so in total secret. Not even the local government knew of our presence.” Carmilla said. “But then the vampire population got bigger and we started clinching political positions for ourselves.

“Vampires were elected as mayors, city councilmen, lawmakers, lawyers, judges, police captains, you name it. We even had a few members of the KGB that owed us favors. All the signs of a parallel society were there.

“Under normal circumstances, we would’ve been rooted out and killed by Russia’s Exorcist Program. But at the time, Russia was facing a far more dire issue; the Second Chechen War. Chechnya was trying to rebuild itself after the first war, but the country was marred by violence between its government and separatist factions.

“In 1997, Chechnya had its first democratic election since the end of the first war. One candidate ran on a platform of peace with Russia, while the other was a militant Islamist that wanted to establish a Great Caucuses Emirate. The first candidate won by a landslide.

“Around the time of the election, we received some very interesting information from our former KGB contacts. They told us there was a conspiracy concocted by the director of the FSB and the prime minister to covertly engineer a second Chechen war. Handlers from the FSB were in contact with separatist leaders, including members of the Special Purpose Islamic Regiment. Those leaders received the money, equipment, and weapons needed to carry out assassinations against Chechen officials and members of the Russian military.”

“What? Why would the FSB undermine a government that wanted peace with them?” Osamu asked.

“The FSB wanted the war to gain political capital and springboard the prime minister into the presidential seat.” Carmilla explained. “But the Islamist factions needed help to carry out attacks within Russia. They needed people who could blend in, plant bombs, and get close to military officials. We were given an ultimatum; either lend our support in igniting the Second Chechen War, or the FSB would report us to the Exorcist Program and every allied nation at its disposal.”

“So you didn’t have much of a choice. The FSB used you and you just had to go along with it.” Hima said, downing her whiskey.

“It wasn’t entirely one-sided.” Carmilla said. “They did threaten us, but we also knew their secret. So, we had a bit of a MAD policy in place. We kept each other in check while benefitting from each others’ services. But of course, when Russia can’t get its way with threats, it resorts to subversion.

“The political groups that make up Johan Sommer’s new party arose as a result of our involvement in the Second Chechen War.” Carmilla said. “There are known Russian sympathizers within the United Pacifist Party, and we also suspect some of them might be in contact with officials in the FSB.”

“We were set up to lose no matter what we did.” Ulrich interjected. “Had we rejected the FSB’s ultimatum, we would’ve been annihilated. But since we accepted, our involvement in the war triggered the rise of Johan Sommer and the parties backing him, and for all we know, those people were planted within Yakutsk to undermine us in the long term.”

“You said their two main tenets are pacifism and isolationism?” Hima asked, looking at the television and the sycophantic applause from Johan’s party members. “It sounds to me that Russia picked up on the schism that split our race after the Second Great Holy War. They took advantage of the people that regretted my father’s decision to go ahead with the war and positioned them to spread their meek ideology throughout our body politic.

“What I heard just now was a man disillusioned and ashamed of his own race’s history, so much so that he would call off this genocide and doom us to live in a world full of enemies. I can’t imagine there being any other end goal but for his party to squash any hope of my people expanding their territory and power beyond the confines of Yakutsk. So, Johan’s formed his political bloc. What’s their next course of action?”

“The Scarlet Senate doesn’t have the authority to impeach a king nor a queen, especially not when that queen is a descendant of Dracula.” Annabel chimed, sitting cross-legged and swirling her whiskey in her glass. “They have other avenues they could try, but Johan’s too clever to risk political stillbirth. He knows that many in Yakutsk support you and Osamu, as well as the genocide against the human race.”

“Most likely, he’ll continue his speeches across the Sakha Republic and drum up more support for his plan to stop the slaughter.” Ivan said. “If he really does have Russia’s backing, we can expect more subversive tricks to undermine us.”

“What should we do?” Katya asked. “Even if he doesn’t manage to win majority support from the public, he can still ruin everything if he can create a big enough divide. We cannot have the people turn on us. Things could get very ugly very quickly.”

Osamu listened closely to everyone’s concerns. He returned his gaze to the television as the camera’s zoomed in on Johan’s sweat-drenched, proud expression. He rubbed his cold hands against the soft fur of the coat gifted to him by the woman he met earlier. Even now, the roar of the crowd could still be heard from within the hotel’s walls, albeit faintly.

The vampires still possessed a fiery, nationalist spirit, and with the return of Dracula’s descendant, they were more than willing to stand behind Osamu’s cause. With the possibility of his new political opponent being backed by the secret arm of the Russian government, he couldn’t risk slipping up and losing the support of Yakutsk’s population, nor the safety of his fellow lords.

“I want to meet him.” Osamu said, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention. “Invite him here for a meeting tomorrow.”

Katya scoffed. “You want to meet him? You’re not going to be able to change his mind, Osamu.”

(I could if I wanted to, but I need to be mindful of how I play this. If Johan suddenly changes his tune after meeting with us, it would be like announcing to everyone that I manipulated him. Unless I manage to enslave this entire region with Bloodcraft all at once, being too reckless with this power could start a civil war. The vampires will destroy each other and Minavere will fall, plus we wouldn’t be able to learn the extent of Johan’s involvement with the FSB. I need to find another way to beat him and dismantle the United Pacifist Party, all while gaining the support our detractors and outmaneuvering the FSB all at once…)

“No, Osamu’s right.” Hima said. “We need to learn more about him and the other members of his party. We can only do that if we can keep our enemies close. Invite him for a meeting and we’ll at least be able to determine how he intends to intervene in our plan.”

Anya leaned in towards Osamu and Hima, an astonished smile slapped across her face. “You two understand how dangerous this is, right? We don’t know if he’s a plant or not.”

“The way I see it, there’s far too much we don’t know.” Osamu asserted. “The only way to fix that is to meet the man.”

“Not to mention it’s good optics!” Annabel interjected. “The people will want to see that we’re taking this issue seriously and opening up a dialogue with the parties across the aisle. We can learn more about him while maintaining the people’s trust.”

Carmilla poured herself another glass of whiskey and leaned back in her booth. “We’re doing this?”

Osamu nodded as he took Hima’s hand into his own. “Yeah. We’re doing this. Set the meeting. I’ll root these bastards out of our nation.”