She gestures at the group of a dozen-plus interfolk rebels. “Did I lie, Lord Ashfen? I don’t see anyone. Nopeople, surely, with the way Olhavians and Nuhavians treat the interfolk. I only see ghosts.” Her smile flattens, turning into a dangerous snarl. “Ghosts who are ready to haunt every motherfucker who’s ever tried to hurt them.”
Part
Two
If only the Olhavians understood how fearful the overliege vampirex is of losing their Ministry. The leader of the richest district in Olhav is prim, proper, and utterly mysterious. They give an air of indifference and absolute control of their ward. Yet the charade could not be further from the truth.
The overliege is frightened. Frightened of what Aramastun Wyvox might do now he’s consolidating so much power. With the Intelligence and Military Wards fallen into his hands, he has control of the army and the spies. At any moment, he could snap his fingers and bring ruin to the Commerce and Faith Wards.
If Aramastun wants total control of the Five Ministries, why wouldn’t he? What’s stopping him?
The overliege has had to pick away spies of their own, trying to find the few who are trustworthy and capable enough to keep an eye on the Night Judge. They have hired as many mercenaries with their bountiful wealth as possible, and yet the thread of terror always remains just beneath the surface of their porcelain skin.
They have succeeded, too, in keeping a close eye on Aramastun’s movements. But the pervasive fear is still there. The primary source of income and power for the overliege, the North Mines, are getting harassed by Aramastun’s vicious judgemen.
Once the overliege loses the mines, they lose any semblance of control they might still possess. It would be a travesty, and one that they can’t let happen. So they need a plan.
There are also the . . . base desires of the vampirex overliege that sway much of how they operate. It makes plans difficult to execute at times, because they’re trapped in a room with threeor four mistresses and paramours, overindulging in pleasures of the flesh in a way that would astound most people.
The overliege is not most people. They do not dwell on the wants and desires of the base insects who flock this great city—the commonbloods.
All the other vampires are just a means to an end for them. And they will conspire more schemes to get what they need: freedom from the tyranny of their “brother,” Aramastun.
If it takes an uprising, then so be it. The miners the overliege faithfully hired are already getting wary. They don’t have enough protection from Aramastun, and many of them have fled in the night. When they’re found, they will be punished summarily.
Silver lives and dies in the North Mines. It is the artery through which the overliege lives. Without it, they are powerless. So they will do whatever it takes to keep that spigot turned on, to keep the money flowing, and to keep the power on their side.
Even if it means hiring more interfolk miners—or stealing them away from their homes, as it were—and finding unscrupulous individuals to use to suit their purpose.
Everyone is a means to an end in this gilded house of cards.
Chapter 11
Sephania
Zefyra finishes her tale of how she arrived here with a group of ragtag interfolk miners. Ex-miners, now revolutionaries.
The story is long in telling. By this point, the flock of miners has joined our table, circling in and drinking while they listen. Many of them stand on their feet behind our group at the table. Others sit with us in nearby booths. Everyone’s gathered around to hear Zefyra’s yarn, likely for the hundredth time.
Unlike most humans, they aren’t afraid of bumping shoulders with the vampires in my gang. More than anyone, the interfolk know what it’s like to be outcasts and looked down upon. Not that vampires are looked down on here, in Olhav, but treading within a group of suspicious humans? They aren’t given a favorable opinion, surely.
I can see these people as true allies,I think as Zefyra winds down.The soldiers at Tymon’s, Helget and her paramours, the misrepresented workers from the North Mines. We trulydohave allies in all corners of the mountain.
Now we’re actually finding them.
The thought gives me hope. It fills me with fervor, knowing our goal of a better Olhav and Nuhav has taken its first steps.
With Aramastun Wyvox on a rampage throughout the countryside, and his heel firmly on our throat, there’s no backing down. The only answers are victory or death.
I’d prefer the former, but I’m willing to succumb to the latter if it means guaranteeing the victory for humankind in Nuhav and the downfall of the Three Ministries here in Olhav.
Sister Zefyra throws her arms wide. “. . . And that’s how I got this pretty scar. Pretty silly, isn’t it?”
A few of the interfolk chuckle.
I, unfortunately, had tuned her out. There are more pressing things on my mind—other parts of her story I’ve focused on and want to discuss.
Once she’s finished and falls silent, someone brings her a mug of ale and she drinks it heartily, smacking her lips. She turns to me with a smirk.