The Vampire's Crimson Kiss (Editing)

Interlude: Fury

The entrance to the meeting room for the thirteen of the Covern of the Meridian was an imposing gateway, flanked by towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings of arcane symbols and sigils. As attendees approached, they were greeted by the soft glow of torchlight flickering against the polished marble floor, casting eerie shadows upon the walls lined with tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and mystical rituals. Above, a domed ceiling loomed, its surface adorned with a celestial map depicting the alignment of stars and planets. The air was heavy with anticipation and the faint scent of incense, adding to the aura of mystique that enveloped the chamber, signaling the gravity of the discussions to come. At this point the ornate doors flew open.

Duke Sadismann stormed out of the meeting of the council of thirteen in a foul rage. He had hidden it well in the meeting, but afterward, he was nothing short of enraged.

The Duke ascended the spiraling staircase of the observation tower in somber silence, his footsteps echoing faintly against the ancient stone walls. As he reached the summit, a gust of wind tousled his dark cloak, billowing it around him like a shroud. Stepping out onto the open deck, he gazed out over the sprawling city below, its twinkling lights a stark contrast to the darkness that lingered within his own heart. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the landscape, but its beauty offered him little solace. Here, high above the world, he sought refuge from the burdens of his duties and the weight of his own regrets, yearning for a moment of solitude amidst the chaos of his immortal existence.

He stood on the open deck at the top of the tower, howling like a wolf loudly in frustration. The familiars hid from him. He had already punched one of the long coats and broken his ribs.

The Duke felt so stupid. He had walked into the meeting ready to discuss marrying Victoria but emerged agreeing to marry the Duchess. He beat his fist against the iron railing in his frustration. He knew his failings; he had been blind to the notion that the high priestess would settle the internal feud with Tearman for this.

They had both presented the same case: they were weak from war, had too few familiars to sire from the coven, and too few long coats to be sure of controlling their current lands, not to mention the lands of the  Barrenlands, or the new territory in the Coven of Midnight.

They needed to use the ancient guns, but the stocks of ammunition laid down generations ago were badly low. A union with coven Lobishomen was the only logical course of action. He had wished Aarin was still with him; Aarin was good and loyal. Instead, Uegan, formally Salem, had betrayed him by voting for the marriage with the high priestess. Treacherous bitch, he had sired her. Now there was no doubt she had been the high priestess's spy all this time.

The other covens would combine against him if they did not move fast. Once the wedding was complete then the other covens could not stop them. 

Then Tearman had said something, something which made the Duke feel he had found the Princess's metcrane and could reveal to the King of the Barren lands all that had passed. It was overwhelming, and they knew it. In the end, capitulation to the plan looked to be the best way to confound them. That didn't stop it from hurting like holy water on an open wound. He had bought time, precious but tiny. He had pushed that a union of covens would require a meeting of the great houses to agree. He had been so close and now to lose Victoria. He howled again loudly enough to make the ferryman look up.