The Seventh City of Crimson Liber, the United City-States of Sutherland
The expanse of land far to the south of Lazha, the central city of Crimson Liber, was known as one of the key battlefields of the warlord period and the ravages it had suffered then. Even now that half a century had passed, crops still failed to thrive there, and there was no sign of any people. In the midst of this desolation, flaunting its presence to the gray landscapes that stretched away to the horizon, reared the towers of Castle Vlad, the seat of Cassael bell Stainz. And making its way toward the castle, flanked to the front and rear by a tough-looking crew of guards, came a horse-drawn carriage. A golden wolf glinted on the door, the sigil of the house of Elfriede.
“We’ll arrive soon, Lord Lion.”
At the pleasant sound of Julius’s voice in his ears, Lion slowly opened his eyes. At some point, the light coming through the carriage’s little window had taken on a reddish hue.
“At long last...”
A day and a half had passed since the carriage set forth from Rizen Castle when Lion and Julius arrived at Castle Vlad. Following the directions of the soldiers who guarded the castle gates, the carriage trundled over the drawbridge. The driver brought them to a halt in the space set aside for them, then immediately jumped down and, with courtesy, opened the door.
“Watch your step, my lord.”
Lion’s feet touched the ground for the first time in nearly half a day. As Julius disembarked after him, Lion interlinked his fingers and raised his arms in a deep stretch to loosen his stiffened muscles.
“I must say, you slept very well, didn’t you, my lord?”
“Because you work me to the bone, Julius,” Lion said teasingly. “If not for chances like this, I’d never see a good night’s rest.”
“Well, seeing as you’re good and rested now,” Julius replied in the same tone, “I shall work you even harder.” The familiar banter cheered Lion beyond measure.
“I’ll ask you not to go too hard on me,” he said. “But I’ll be if this castle gives me the shivers every time I see it.”
It was not that the castle was in a state of disrepair—even the trees were cleanly pruned. Yet there was an air of degradation about the place. No doubt the desolate vistas that surrounded it played a part. With the bloody light of the sun on his back, Lion looked up to where clouds of bats fluttered around the castle spires.
“Take a look at that,” Lion said to Julius. “They call him ‘the Bat’ to sneer at him, but his castle’s crawling with the things. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen such delicious irony.”
“My lord, I suggest you refrain from further quips.” Julius’s expression was suddenly stern. Lion, feeling admonished, shrugged a little in response.
“Please, come inside the castle,” said an elderly steward with a splendid set of whiskers. “You must be weary from your long journey.” Lion followed him. As he stepped inside, he noted several items that had not been there on his last visit. These included a statue of a woman gazing up at the sky while a great, two-headed serpent coiled around her, and a painting where a glimmering black sun shone down on a barren field plowed by skeletons.
Impeccable taste, as ever, Lion thought. He noted with amusement the slight crease in Julius’s brow as, like they always did, they went up staircases and along corridors for so long it felt like a gesture of spite, until being led into a familiar room.