The Vampire & Her Witch

Thirteen.

Thirteen protectorates.

Thirteen Lord Governors, Lord Magistrates, and presumably, if the Bloodroot Empire followed as it had for the Rides, thirteen Lord Sheriffs as well.

But the real number running through everyone’s mind was thirteen Lord Commanders.

Thirteen armies.

If the Southern Steppe was charged to build armies the same size as the one Liam Dunn had just been charged with, that would total more than six thousand soldiers... Six thousand soldiers who could call down lightning from the sky and summon vast whirlwinds. Six thousand soldiers with powers the likes of which the people of Lothian had just learned they never understood.

Like the jaws of a trap slamming shut, Sir Gilander felt like he finally understood why Ashlynn had the confidence to carve an entire march out of the Kingdom of Gaal. At the same time, he understood why she was working so hard to court the Southern Steppe, managing them with a careful combination of carrots and sticks to entice them into joining this new empire.

Gilander knew more than almost anyone living about Bors Lothian’s plans for the Holy War he’d spent the past decade architecting. Bringing Holy Warriors across the sea from the old countries was an ambitious and expensive endeavor, one that they felt confident would produce a thousand soldiers in the first year, and two thousand soldiers a year for at least two or three years...

With a constant supply of reinforcements, Bors expected to seize and garrison Airgead Mountain, using its wealth to draw hundreds more soldiers from across the Kingdom of Gaal to join the cause before making a push south. By the reasoning of the late marquis, even after losses on Airgead, he would have had as many as five thousand men under his command for the southern campaign.

It would have been a larger army than the march had seen since the end of the Second Crusade. With the backing of the Church, they’d have had dozens of Templars and Inquisitors to join them in that campaign. With a swordsman like Owain Lothian at the head of that army, victory seemed assured.

It was only now that Gilander fully realized how wrong they’d been about the Eldritch forces beyond their border. With the Southern Steppe, the Bloodroot Empire’s standing army would soon swell to ten thousand soldiers or more, with vampires and witches to lead them.

Nothing short of a Crusade could crush such an empire... But half of that overwhelming power lay within the borders of the Southern Steppe, and if High Lord Dirar wasn’t content to surrender his throne and meet the demands of Empress Nyrielle and the empire, then the Kingdom of Gaal still had a chance of victory if it could organize quickly enough to crush the fledgling empire in its infancy.

Gilander felt like the world had shifted beneath him as he turned his attention to Dirar, waiting to hear the answer that would determine the fate of far more than the Bloodroot Empire and the people in this room...

”I have no problem raising armies to fight for my people,” Dirar said calmly. ”But I need assurances. When I killed Bujir, I became responsible for the people of the Southern Steppe. I made a bargain, Empress Nyrielle,” he said, placing extra emphasis on the word ’bargain.’ ”I cannot go back on it easily.”

”Nor would we ask you to,” Ashlynn said, answering for Nyrielle. ”You will remain the lord of your people within the empire, for as long as you choose to hold your position in the Southern Steppe.”

”You can say that,” Dirar said politely. ”But a High Lord is a man who answers only to the Heavens. Now, I would answer to an empire. My people would be bound to the laws of the empire. Armies formed from my herds would march at the orders of an empress... Those armies might even march against me at your command,” he said.

”You can see how this situation quickly becomes intolerable,” Dirar said, spreading his hands out to his sides as if to say he was helpless to resolve the problem.

”If it ever comes to that, Dirar, I’ll kill you myself,” Nyrielle said directly, unwilling to mince her words with the High Lord. ”You’ll never need to watch the empire forcing your people to slaughter each other. If you turn against us, I’ll end your life directly. You have my word on that,” Nyrielle promised.

Next to Dirar, Rastlan snarled and looked like he was about to say something sharp before a tap from Dirar silenced the captain of his guard.

”I suppose that’s... comforting,” Dirar said in a very bland tone. ”In its own way. Does every lord of the Bloodroot Empire enjoy the same privilege? To live and die at the hands of its Empresses?”

”Don’t twist my words, Dirar,” Nyrielle warned. ”Would you do any less if one of your City Lords rebelled against you? Or threatened the life of one of your beloved concubines? The lines you cannot cross are few, but the consequences should you do so are dire.”

”Does that mean I’ll be allowed to sit in judgment over my Lord Governors and Lord Magistrates?” Dirar asked. ”I’ll have command of my own armies to rule as a sovereign within my domain?”

”Yes and no,” Ashlynn said, frowning at Dirar. ”You’re pushing ahead, High Lord Dirar,” she added with a sigh. ”So let me make a few things plain for everyone.”

”Thus far,” Ashlynn said, turning to address the great hall. ”You’ve listened as I’ve reorganized the Verdant Hills. From the smallest villages to the establishment of protectorates, but there is one thing that you may not have realized.”

”The Verdant Hills belong to me,” Ashlynn said firmly. ”It is mine by right of marriage and conquest. The decrees of minor offices are not the decrees of an empress. They do not represent the way we will manage the Southern Steppe, and we’ve only begun to discuss the way the empire itself will be administered.”

”You mean to say that, in the matters of the Verdant Hills, you’re acting not as the Evergreen Empress, but as the ruler of the Verdant Hills?” Dirar asked, confirming his understanding. ”So I would have the same rights to appoint the Lord Governors, Lord Magistrates, and other offices of the Southern Steppe?”

”Exactly so,” Ashlynn said as a smile formed on her lips. ”The Bloodroot Empire has a single trunk in the Vale of Mists which will stand apart from the rest of the realm as imperial district answerable directly to the empresses,” she said, reaching out and interlacing the fingers of one hand with Nyrielle’s. ”It’s our home, and we will oversee it directly.”

”Outside of the Vale,” Ashlynn continued. ”The empire is composed of distinct regions, each with their own unique heartbeat and character. The Verdant Hills is one of those Hearts, and it is joined by the Four Peaks to the west beyond the Vale,” she said, nodding briefly at Hauke, whose horn shimmered a pale, icy blue as he sat up straighter in his chair.

”Should the Southern Steppe join the empire, then it would become a Heart as well,” Ashlynn said. ”Where you would rule as a Lord of the Blood.”