The chamber remained silent.
The distant sounds of Protector and Duq'arael demolishing part of the palace echoed faintly through the walls.
No one commented on it.
Not anymore.
The Damazti Cluster slowly turned back toward Abertha.
[Damazti Cluster]: So... you don't kill people?
[Abertha]: Correct.
The Damazti Cluster stared at her for several long seconds.
Then he looked toward Nezzsalem.
[Damazti Cluster]: Nezzsalem...
A pause.
[Damazti Cluster]: Did that old man drug us or something?
Nezzsalem didn't even look up.
[Nezzsalem]: He didn't.
A beat.
[Nezzsalem]: And if he had...
His voice remained perfectly calm.
[Nezzsalem]: None of us would've noticed.
Logos folded his arms.
[Logos]: I don't sense any Arts, poison, or foreign substance in this room.
A brief pause.
His expression grew distant.
[Logos]: Besides...
A quieter breath.
[Logos]: Why would he come here...
Another pause.
[Logos]: ...after that happened?
Silence settled over the chamber.
One by one, the gathered Lords lowered their heads.
Even Theresis remained quiet.
Only two people didn't react.
Ermengarde.
And Abertha.
Ermengarde looked around the room, clearly confused.
[Ermengarde]: ...Forgive me.
A small pause.
[Ermengarde]: But... who exactly are you talking about?
No one answered immediately.
The silence stretched.
Then Nezzsalem finally spoke.
His voice was low.
Heavy.
[Nezzsalem]: The man we betrayed...
A pause.
[Nezzsalem]: A hundred years ago.
His crimson eyes remained fixed on the table.
[Nezzsalem]: The man who raised me.
Another long silence.
Then—
[Nezzsalem]: ...My father.
Silence.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Then—
BOOM!
The chamber doors exploded open.
A headless body hurtled through the air and crashed across the center of the meeting table, scattering documents and shattering teacups.
It was Duq'arael.
Or rather...
What was left of him.
A moment later, Protector stepped calmly through the ruined doorway.
In one hand, he carried a large glass jar filled with clear medical alcohol.
Floating inside it—
Duq'arael's severed head.
Tiny bubbles drifted upward as the Sanguinarch glared furiously through the glass.
[Duq'arael]: {Muffled, incomprehensible vampire profanity}.
More bubbles escaped his mouth.
Protector glanced down at the jar thoughtfully.
Then looked toward Abertha.
[Protector]: ...Do pickled heads preserved in medical alcohol taste good?
Silence.
Every eye in the chamber slowly shifted toward him.
No one knew where to begin.
The Damazti Cluster broke the silence first.
[Damazti Cluster]: ...Does it?
Every eye in the chamber slowly turned toward him.
A pause.
[Damazti Cluster]: The pickles.
Another pause.
[Damazti Cluster]: Do they taste good?
Silence.
Theresis slowly raised a hand to his forehead.
His temples throbbed.
He wasn't sure whether he was more furious that the Sanguinarch had just been decapitated...
...or that this was somehow the question everyone was discussing.
Nearby, Logos quietly closed his eyes.
Ermengarde looked genuinely curious.
Nezzsalem simply sighed.
Very, very deeply.
Outside—
BOOM.
Another section of the palace collapsed.
No one even flinched.
Theresa looked toward Protector with the same gentle concern she always carried.
[Theresa]: Is anyone injured?
Protector thought for a moment.
Then nodded.
[Protector]: Just me.
He held up one hand.
A small bite mark was visible on one finger.
Inside the jar—
[Duq'arael]: {Muffled, incomprehensible vampire profanity}.
He continued banging against the glass in what appeared to be outrage.
Nezzsalem let out a slow, tired sigh.
[Nezzsalem]: Duq'arael...
A pause.
[Nezzsalem]: You're embarrassing yourself.
Protector looked over.
Nezzsalem gestured toward an empty chair.
[Nezzsalem]: Would you mind putting his head back in its seat?
A brief pause.
He glanced at the jar.
[Nezzsalem]: Keep him in the alcohol.
Another pause.
His expression remained perfectly serious.
[Nezzsalem]: He's much quieter that way.
Theresis looked around the chamber.
His gaze swept across the assembled Lords.
Then he nodded once.
[Theresis]: We can begin the meeting now.
[Everyone]: Agreed.
The room settled into silence.
Almost everyone was ready.
Almost.
Ermengarde slowly raised a hand.
[Ermengarde]: Um...
A small pause.
[Ermengarde]: Could someone explain what's happening?
She looked around the table.
[Ermengarde]: Lord Fremont simply told me to attend this meeting.
Another pause.
[Ermengarde]: He neglected to explain... everything else.
Silence.
Theresis closed his eyes.
Nezzsalem sighed.
Theresa smiled awkwardly.
Logos pinched the bridge of his nose.
The Damazti Cluster looked as though he was questioning reality itself.
Inside the jar—
[Duq'arael]: {Muffled, indignant vampire noises}.
After a long moment, Theresis finally spoke.
[Theresis]: This meeting concerns one person.
His gaze settled on Abertha.
[Theresis]: The last known Diαblo.
A brief pause.
[Theresis]: Abertha.
Silence.
Abertha answered immediately.
[Abertha]: I have already joined Babel.
A small pause.
[Abertha]: I also told everyone that I am a doctor.
Another pause.
[Abertha]: I do not kill people.
The room fell quiet.
Theresa smiled gently.
[Theresa]: Abertha...
A brief pause.
[Theresa]: That isn't what my brother is asking.
She folded her hands together.
[Theresa]: He's asking whether you intend to become involved in Kazdel's politics.
Her voice remained calm.
[Theresa]: Will you attempt to restore the Diαblo Court by gathering surviving Diαblos, half-bloods, and those still loyal to the Flame Court?
A pause.
[Theresa]: Will you join one of the existing Royal Courts...
Another.
[Theresa]: ...or are you truly the last of your kind?
The moment Theresa finished—
Abertha dropped to one knee.
Without the slightest hesitation.
[Abertha]: I swear my loyalty to Her Majesty Theresa.
A pause.
[Abertha]: Until death.
She lowered her head.
[Abertha]: And to the best of my knowledge...
A beat.
[Abertha]: I am the last Diαblo.
The Damazti Cluster blinked.
Once.
Then looked toward the jar.
[Damazti Cluster]: That was surprisingly quick.
He lightly tilted the jar toward himself.
[Damazti Cluster]: Don't you agree, Duq'arael?
Inside—
[Duq'arael]: Muffled, indignant vampire noises.
The jar was returned to the table.
Theresis remained focused on Abertha.
[Theresis]: And how can you be certain...
A pause.
[Theresis]: ...that you are the last?
Abertha raised her head.
Her expression never changed.
[Abertha]: The dead told me.
Silence settled over the chamber.
No one questioned Abertha's answer.
"The dead told me."
For someone else, it would have sounded absurd.
For a Diαblo—
No one could say it was impossible.
The Damazti Cluster let out a quiet sigh before leaning back in his chair.
[Damazti Cluster]: That... explains more than I'd like.
A small pause.
[Damazti Cluster]: So the old Flame Court never truly disappeared.
His eyes drifted toward Abertha.
[Damazti Cluster]: They're simply speaking through their last heir.
Nezzsalem remained silent.
The Nachzehrer King slowly folded his hands together.
His expression revealed nothing.
Yet the weight in the room had changed.
The last surviving Diαblo.
A Great Court that history believed extinct.
No one present could pretend that wasn't important.
After some time, Theresa started.
Theresa folded her hands calmly.
Her pink eyes swept across the gathered Court Lords.
[Theresa]: Our people have wandered through hatred for centuries.
A pause.
[Theresa]: Every generation inherits another war.
Another.
[Theresa]: Every child inherits another enemy.
She lowered her gaze.
[Theresa]: I want that cycle to end.
Silence filled the chamber.
[Theresa]: Babel was never meant to become an army.
A small smile appeared.
[Theresa]: It was created so Sarkaz could have a future beyond the battlefield.
She looked toward the gathered Lords.
[Theresa]: Cooperation.
[Theresa]: Understanding.
[Theresa]: A nation that earns respect instead of demanding fear.
Theresis finally spoke.
His voice was calm.
Measured.
Cold.
[Theresis]: Respect?
His crimson eyes met Theresa's.
[Theresis]: The world has never respected the Sarkaz.
A pause.
[Theresis]: It fears us.
Another.
[Theresis]: It always has.
His gaze swept across the chamber.
[Theresis]: Every kingdom on Terra teaches its children that Sarkaz are monsters.
[Theresis]: Every nation sharpens its blades while preaching peace.
His expression never changed.
[Theresis]: You cannot negotiate with those who have already decided your existence is a threat.
Silence.
[Theresis]: Strength is the only language Terra has ever answered.
A pause.
[Theresis]: And I intend to make certain it never forgets that.
The Nachzehrer King slowly nodded.
Not in agreement.
In understanding.
Centuries of history had taught every Court Lord the same lesson.
Kindness rarely survived politics.
Power always did.
Theresis rose from his seat.
[Theresis]: Victoria stands divided.
A pause.
[Theresis]: Londinium will soon become the center of Terra's next great conflict.
His eyes narrowed.
[Theresis]: If Kazdel controls Londinium—
Another pause.
[Theresis]: Then no nation will ever again decide our future for us.
He looked toward the assembled Lords.
[Theresis]: The Dukes of Victoria seek allies.
[Theresis]: We will ensure they choose the correct one.
Everyone understood what he meant.
The Military Commission had already begun laying the foundations for intervention in Victoria.
It was no longer a question of if Kazdel would become involved.
Only how.
Theresa stood as well.
[Theresa]: I won't stop you from protecting our people.
A pause.
[Theresa]: But I won't abandon those who still believe peace is possible.
Her voice remained gentle.
Yet unwavering.
[Theresa]: Babel will continue helping the infected.
[Theresa]: The displaced.
[Theresa]: And every Sarkaz who wishes for a tomorrow free from endless revenge.
The meeting had reached its conclusion.
Neither sibling had convinced the other.
Neither had expected to.
They simply acknowledged the paths each had chosen.
Theresa quietly left the chamber.
Following behind her were Logos, Abertha, and Protector.
None of them spoke.
Behind them, the great doors closed with a deep echo.
The remaining Court Lords stayed seated.
No one hurried to leave.
The true discussion was only beginning.
The Sanguinarch's head, still sealed inside its jar, emitted several muffled complaints.
No one acknowledged him.
The Damazti Cluster lazily rotated the jar a few degrees.
The muffled protests became even louder.
He smiled.
[Damazti Cluster]: Better.
Now we can think in peace.
For the next several hours, the Royal Court debated which vision offered Kazdel its greatest chance of survival.
Not victory.
Survival.
Because every one of them knew the same truth:
The world had never been kind to the Sarkaz.
The only question was whether that future could still be changed.
[Chapter End]