The Vampire & Her Witch

Loman had frozen awkwardly halfway to the dais when his father hurled his cloak at him, and now he stood there like a deer meeting a hunter’s gaze, unable to advance or retreat in the face of his father’s ire.

The sight of it was enough to make Bors’ blood boil, but he had only himself to blame for failing to take Loman in hand earlier. The smirk on Owain’s face, as he stood nearby, only made matters worse. Owain was delighting in his brother’s misstep, and he wasn’t bothering to hide it now that he’d captured so much attention with the plan that Jocelynn had helped him to concoct.

One brother looked like he was afraid of being struck, and the other was looking forward to seeing the punch land, and they were doing it in full view of the Church and the Court. What a sad state of affairs that he would have to clean up.

”Loman, receive the orders of your Marquis,” Bors said formally, pushing through the pain of the old wound in his side to stand up as straight and proud as he had in his younger years.

”Father,” Loman said, surprised to be called on but kneeling before the dais nonetheless. His heart hammered in his chest, and sweat soaked the fabric of his tunic between his shoulder blades as he waited to hear his father’s command.

He knew, knew that he should have waited to tend to his father’s health until the meeting ended, but the moment he saw the cup fall from his father’s hand, he’d completely forgotten that they were in the middle of holding court and that his actions would only embarrass his father by calling more attention to his strange sickness.

No, he admitted to himself as he knelt on the cold stone floor. He hadn’t forgotten where he was. He simply hadn’t cared. His father’s health was more important than a moment of awkwardness as far as the young priest was concerned... he just wished his father saw it the same way.

”Loman, you are more suited to investigating these strange demons than anyone else under my command,” Bors said formally. ”Your knowledge of things recorded only in ancient and forbidden texts is something no one else can match.”

”Therefore,” Bors said as he turned his gaze to High Priest Aubin. ”So long as the High Priest consents, I would have you take Sir Tommin with his Holy Light Blade and Inquisitor Diarmuid, who is known for the power of his Holy Flames, and investigate these strange, armored demons who attacked Hanrahan Barony. Find the source of them. Kill them if you can. Put an end to our doubts and bring us the answers we require before the full court convenes in two week’s time!”

”Father,” Owain said, stepping forward and kneeling before the dais. ”I respect my brother’s knowledge,” he said, though his jaw was tight and the words were clipped as he spoke them. ”But he is no soldier in the field. Let me take command of the hunting party, and I swear to you, I will return with the demon’s armor as a trophy and its hide to adorn our weapons.”

Inwardly, Owain fumed, and it took all of his strength to continue to play the game before the court, as if he were a dutiful son who simply wanted what was best for the people. Loman in command? He wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all, but berating his brother in front of an Inquisitor and the High Priest rose to a level of stupidity and arrogance that even he could recognize as foolish.

”I’ve made up my mind, Owain,” Bors said, looking down at his kneeling son in clear disapproval. ”A year ago, I might have sent you along with Sir Bors and Sir Tommin, or perhaps with Sir Rain, Sir Kaefin, and Sir Hugo, but none of those men are by your side at the moment,” he said. ”Two of them are dead, two of them are missing, and the greatest of them stands with the Church rather than with you.”

”Father, I...” Owain began, only for his father’s merciless words to cut him off mid-protest.

”Stand down, Owain,” Bors said curtly. ”You have your duties here in Lothian City. Train the new men under your command into a force that can equal or exceed what you have lost. In time, an opportunity may arrive before you again, but this is not that opportunity.”

”Your Worship,” Bors said, turning away from his sons to face the high priest and bring the discussion to a close. ”Is my request reasonable enough? Do I have your full support?”

”Most reasonable, your Grace,” Aubin said with a slight nod. He’d been afraid that, after Lady Jocelynn offered up the four Templars who were part of her guard, the Marquis would demand a similar or greater contribution from the Church.

As it stood, however, sending Sir Tommin with his Holy Light Blade and Inquisitor Diarmuid with his vast experience investigating evil and the power of his Holy Flames was so reasonable and sound that the High Priest might have offered them up himself if Bors hadn’t made the request.

”I’ll see that Sir Tommin and Inquisitor Diarmuid are prepared to ride at dawn,” Aubin said, placing a hand on the shoulders of each of the men beside him.

”We will carry the light into the darkness and root out evil,” Sir Tommin said, speaking for both men as they knelt to acknowledge their orders.

”Your Grace, what about the Twisted Ones who attacked my people?” Liam Dunn said, staring in disbelief at the way all of the aid seemed to be headed to Hanrahan Barony without a request for as much as a single Templar or Inquisitor to be sent to protect the people of his home. ”If the demons come again, we’ll be helpless to protect everyone in our hamlets and our villages. There just aren’t enough men to go around after our losses...”

”In that case,” Marquis Bors said, giving the young man a piercing look. ”I suggest you listen to the wisdom of young Lady Jocelynn’s words. Abandon what you cannot hold. Move your people now, before the winter snows arrive.”

”Remember, young lord Liam,” Bors said as he turned to leave. ”People can rebuild, but land cannot. Make sure you know which you should be fighting to protect.”