“In essence,” Robart grumbled. “The magnetic anomalies of Nexus make it difficult to build any permanent deployment structures. We are forced to drop supplies and troops from orbit via shuttles. Clan Nuan has the only functional gravity tube on the planet, which means they can transport goods and personnel in relative safety.”
I had taken a gravity tube once. It was an enormous elevator that stretched from orbit to the surface and traveled at supersonic speed. The science behind it was magic and riding it had almost made me throw up.
“This is why Nuan Cee is seeking peace,” Arland explained. “Nexus’s main value is in the deposits of kuyo, the liquid mineral we require for our continued war effort. It’s heavy. It’s hard to mine and harder to transport. The Merchants wish to make money on the shipments of kuyo from Nexus. They know we’ll be forced to use their facilities.”
And knowing Nuan Cee, he would count every day he wasn’t charging the Horde and Holy Anocracy an outrageous tariff as a day he lost money.
“We tried to overtake the gravity tube a few times, but we failed,” Odalon said.
“They have Turan Adin,” Robart said, his face grim.
The three vampires paused.
“Who or what is Turan Adin?” I asked.
“Turan Adin is a creature of war,” Robart said and drank some of his mint tea. “He breathes and lives battle. Slaughter runs in his veins. Nexus was settled almost twenty years ago in Nexus time, and he has been there since the very beginning. He is the rassa in the red grass, the shirar in the deep water. The demon of that hell.”
“We don’t know where the Merchants found him,” Arland said. “We don’t even know what he is. But he’s incorruptible and indestructible. He has run their mercenary army for the past two decades. He learns, he adapts, he never tires.”
“But as things stand, both you and the Horde can mine kuyo to use for your military needs?” I asked.
“Yes,” Arland answered.
“Then why not just let things stand as they are?” I asked.
Robart stared at me. “You are not a vampire. You are not a knight.”
Arland put his hand over his face.
“Then help me understand,” I said.
“The land that the Horde holds is stained with our blood,” Robart said, his voice barely controlled. “Only when they are gone can that stain be wiped clean. Would a surgeon remove half of a malignant growth and leave the rest, satisfied with what he already accomplished? Would a hunter skin half a carcass and leave the rest of the precious pelt to rot? We must kill them or drive them off that world. Anything less is a mortal sin. It is an ancient law. Suffer none who would seek to stand on the ground you have chosen. Thus the writs tell us.”
“The Hierophant does not share your interpretation,” Odalon said.
“The Hierophant saw fit to change her mind,” Robart said. “But I did not change mine. My father died in Nexus’s blood fields. The woman I loved more than life itself, the woman I wanted to bear my children, lost her life there. Her light…” His voice broke and he squeezed his fists. “Her light is gone. To look upon the Horde’s territory on Nexus is to dishonor her memory. When I stand before the gates of the afterlife and my father and my almost wife meet me and ask if they were avenged, what will I tell them? That I was too tired of fighting? That I couldn’t spare any more blood to be spilled in their name?”
“What will you tell the spirits of all who stand behind them?” Arland asked. “What will you tell them when they ask you why you threw away their lives in a fight we cannot win?”
“We will win.” Robart punched the table. “It’s a righteous war. A holy war!”
“It’s logistics,” Arland said. “Neither we nor the Horde can shuttle enough troops to Nexus to ensure a decisive victory. We lost two transports just last month. What will you tell the soldiers inside them? They didn’t even get to taste the battle.”
“They knew the risks,” Robart barked.
“Yes, but they trust us to lead them into battle. They trust us to not waste their lives. I will not sacrifice any more of my knights on this pointless war.”
“If you’re too weak, then I will find another ally.”
Arland strode to the Keurig and I heard the water pour. If he needed more tea, I would have gotten him some.
“Like House Meer?” Arland asked, opening the refrigerator. “The cowards who wouldn’t even fight?”
“At least House Meer refuses to honor your pitiful attempts at peace,” Robart said. “Their dissent is…” He inhaled.
I smelled coffee. Oh no.
Arland returned to the table with the mug. Judging by the color, at least a third of it had to be the hazelnut-flavored creamer from my fridge.
“Lord Arland.” I sank a warning into my voice.
“What is this?” Robart looked at the cup.
“A drink for real men,” Arland said. “I wouldn’t recommend it. It doesn’t suffer the unprepared.”
Lord Robart turned to me. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“That is a terrible idea,” I said. “The drink contains…”
“Here.” Arland handed his coffee to Robart. “If you insist. I shall get another.”
“No!” I reached for the cup.
Robart gulped the coffee. “This is interesting. It’s delicious, but I’m awaiting that profound impact you promised me.”
He drained half the mug.
Oh crap. Coffee had the same effect on vampires as alcohol on humans. He’d just downed an equivalent of half a bottle of whiskey.
“You know what your problem is, Arland?” His voice slurred slightly. “You’re a… coward.”
Odalon blinked.
Robart drank another mighty swallow. “All of you”—he waved his index finger around—“are cowards. We must be primal. Resolute. Like our ancestors. Our ancestors didn’t need… weapons. They didn’t need armor. They had their teeth.”
He bared his fangs, clenched his right fist, and flexed his arm.
“Of course they did,” I murmured, keeping my voice soothing. Maybe he would just sit here and tell us about his ancestors and that would be that.
“And they hunted their enemies.” He finished off the mug and flipped it upside down on the table. He looked down at his beautiful armor. “This dung. I don’t need this dung.”
I knew exactly where this was going. “Grab him!”
Arland didn’t move. Odalon stared at Robart, his eyes wide.
Robart hit his crest. The armor fell off him, revealing a black shirt and pants underneath. He yanked the clothes from his body. “To hunt!” Robart roared and shot out of the back door and into the rain.
Damn it.
Orro paused his chopping, rolled his head back, and let out several barking snorts.
“It’s not funny. Arland!” I pointed at him with my broom.
“He needed it,” Arland said, his tone unrepentant.
I squeezed the words through my teeth. “Go get him, my lord, before he hunts a car or a police cruiser and Officer Marais hauls him in for questioning.”
Arland sighed and took off after Robart into the rain.
“Why do you always strip naked when you’re drunk?” I asked Odalon.
“This happened before?” The Battle Chaplain’s eyebrows crept up.
“Lord Arland drank some accidentally last time he was here.”
“It must be the armor. We live in it, so we remove it only in the safety of our homes. If your armor is off, you are clean, safe, and free, probably well fed and possibly ready to meet your partner in the privacy of your bedroom.” Odalon’s somber face remained stoic, but a tiny mischievous light played in his eyes. “Did Lord Arland mention his cousin’s Earthborn wife by any chance while he was indisposed?”
I kept a straight face. “Possibly.”
“The universe is vast and we’re its greatest mystery,” Odalon murmured and followed Arland outside.