Chapter 2 The Council's Decree

Lord Adrian's fingers tightened beneath Jameson's chin.

Before Jameson could draw another breath, Adrian moved with lightning speed. He seized Jameson's forearm and sank his fangs into the flesh.

The pain was sharp but familiar. Jameson had long since learned that struggling only made it worse.

After a few moments, Adrian released him and frowned.

"You've grown weak."

"Forgive me, my lord."

Adrian dabbed the trace of blood from his lips with a handkerchief before casually dropping the stained cloth onto the marble floor.

"Clean yourself before someone mistakes you for a corpse."

Jameson bowed his head as Adrian stepped past him, his polished boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

Halfway across the hall, Adrian slowed.

His attention settled on the damaged statue standing near the center of the chamber.

For a long moment, he simply stared at it.

Then he reached out, his gloved hand brushing over the smooth stone where the face should have been.

"It was already like this when I was a child."

Jameson remained silent.

"I've often wondered who possessed the courage to destroy it."

A faint smile touched Adrian's lips before he withdrew his hand.

"Fortunately, that's not a servant's concern."

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the doors.

The other young nobles followed, not sparing Jameson or Rowan a second glance.

Only after the heavy doors closed did Rowan release the breath he had been holding.

"You shouldn't answer more than you're asked," the old man muttered as he resumed polishing one of the marble pillars.

"I didn't."

"You almost said something."

Jameson dipped his cloth into the basin and wrung out the water.

"I only answered what Lord Adrian asked."

Rowan shook his head.

"Nobles rarely mention things like this in front of commoners."

Jameson understood what he meant.

Questions from powerful men were often tests rather than requests. A careless word could reveal more than a servant intended.

Neither of them spoke again.

The silence inside the Hall of Ancestors was broken only by the sound of damp cloth moving across polished stone.

Jameson returned to the damaged statue before kneeling to clean its base.

The missing face drew his attention once again.

He had spent years wondering about it.

The figure stood beside the founder of House Valerius with equal dignity, suggesting they had once shared the same importance. Yet someone had carefully erased only the face, leaving the clothing, posture, and every intricate carving untouched.

It wasn't the work of vandals.

It was deliberate.

Someone had wanted future generations to remember that the figure had existed while ensuring no one would ever know who it was.

Jameson reached toward the statue with his cloth.

Just before it touched the stone, he noticed something unusual.

A faint groove ran beneath the figure's collar.

It was almost invisible beneath centuries of dust.

He leaned closer.

The groove wasn't random.

It resembled part of a symbol.

Before he could examine it further, the deep sound of a bronze bell echoed across Blackstone Manor.

The vibration traveled through the walls like distant thunder.

Jameson looked toward the windows.

The bell rang a second time.

Then a third.

Rowan's cloth slipped from his hand.

His face had turned pale.

"No..."

Jameson stood.

"I've never heard that bell before."

"You weren't supposed to."

"What does it mean?"

Rowan slowly bent to retrieve the cloth, though his hands trembled noticeably.

"That bell is only rung when the High Council sends a decree."

Jameson frowned.

"The High Council?"

"The rulers of the Crimson Dominion."

Everyone knew the name.

Few had ever spoken it aloud.

The High Council stood above every noble house. Even the oldest bloodlines answered to its authority.

Another bell sounded from somewhere outside the manor.

This time it was followed by shouting.

Boots pounded through the corridors.

Moments later, the doors of the Hall of Ancestors burst open.

Two Blood Guards entered without hesitation.

Their crimson armor bore the emblem of House Valerius across the chest, while long silver spears rested firmly in their hands.

"All servants are to report to the central courtyard immediately," one of them announced.

"No exceptions."

Neither guard waited for a response.

They turned and continued toward the next corridor, repeating the same order.

Jameson exchanged a glance with Rowan.

They left their cleaning supplies where they were and joined the growing stream of servants moving through the corridors.

No one spoke.

The usual noise of the manor had vanished.

Kitchen workers abandoned half-prepared meals.

Gardeners hurried in from the outer grounds.

Stable hands still carried brushes used to clean the noble horses.

Every servant wore the same anxious expression.

As they entered the central courtyard, Jameson realized the summons hadn't been issued only to the servants.

Members of House Valerius were already gathering beneath the grand balcony overlooking the estate.

Blood Guards lined the courtyard in perfect formation.

Senior attendants stood beside the staircase with lowered heads.

Even Lord Adrian had returned, standing several steps behind an elderly man dressed in black ceremonial robes embroidered with crimson thread.

Jameson had never seen the old man before.

Rowan noticed where he was looking.

"That's Lord Magnus."

"The head of House Valerius?"

Rowan gave a slight nod.

"If he's here personally..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

A heavy silence settled over the courtyard.

Then the great gates of Blackstone Manor slowly opened.

Every servant instinctively lowered their heads.

Three figures entered.

Each wore identical crimson robes that concealed everything except their pale hands.

They walked with measured steps, carrying themselves with the quiet confidence of men who had never feared another living soul.

No banners announced their arrival.

None were necessary.

The entire courtyard knelt before they had taken ten steps.

Jameson followed without hesitation.

He felt the stone beneath his knees as his eyes fixed on the ground.

The authority of the High Council spoke louder than commands.

The three robed figures stopped before the staircase.

Lord Magnus stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"House Valerius welcomes the Council's envoys."

The man standing at the center acknowledged him with a slight inclination of his head.

His voice was calm, yet every word carried effortlessly across the silent courtyard.

"The Blood Moon has risen."

A ripple of unease spread through the gathered servants.

Jameson felt Rowan tense beside him.

"The ancient covenant will be fulfilled."

One of the envoys produced a sealed scroll.

The crimson wax bore a symbol Jameson had never seen before.

It resembled a crown resting above a single drop of blood.

The envoy broke the seal.

"The High Council has completed its selection."

Every servant held their breath.

Jameson's heartbeat grew louder with each passing second.

The envoy slowly unrolled the parchment and began reading.

"The chosen offering from House Valerius is..."

His eyes settled on a single line.

"...Thrall Number Seven Hundred and Forty-One."

The courtyard fell into silence.

Jameson stared at the stone beneath his knees.

For a moment, he wondered if someone else shared the same number.

Then he felt the servants nearest to him quietly move away.

He was suddenly alone.