Chapter 5

Terms like “Day” or “Night” had little significance on the fully enclosed airship, despite the somewhat translucent solar panels of blue crystal which lent the Sapphire City its name. Artificial lights lined walls, walkways, streets and windows, set to timers which ruled the cycle of time. This was predominantly for the benefit of the serfs; without these familiar patterns the humans had a tendency to lose their feeble minds.
Tavian moved down corridors, smiling pleasantly to those he passed. Another day at court, making sure his gleaming city ran smoothly. Those who nodded in return noted a slight spring in the Adjudicator's step, a tad more sincerity to his smile. The opportunistic took the chance to make otherwise unpopular requests and the ignorant bowed their head, missing openings. Taking the lift to the top of the Adjudicator's Spire, he prepared to meet with the head nobles. It would be a few hours before the first lord arrived, but the city was already bustling. Serfs scrambled to clean and prepare, knowing the painful cost of any inconvenience befalling the Atreans. Tavian ignored them, mentally filing their presence with the carefully maintained shrubs and trees.
The lift was quiet on the way to the top floor. On days like these, when he was required to mingle with the citizens (a duty that was more difficult some days than others), this was one of the last moments he would get to himself. The lift was the most carefully inspected and maintained machinery in the city, constantly scrutinized and protected against wear. There was no way the Adjudicator was going to walk the steps up thirteen floors.
Alix Lucretia was waiting in the Feasting Hall when he arrived. As always, Tavian smiled at the irony of the name. There was no table in this room, and never had a feast been consumed within its walls. Still, the old traditions lingered. In her official capacity as Châtelaine, Alix wore a complex outfit made of various pieces held together by a network of bands and straps which defied all logic. Clasped at her breast, a huge collar rose several inches above and behind her head. Tavian's mind instinctively perceived a cobra, but with her diminutive frame and shy smile, his second-in-command looked anything but menacing.
“Lady Olivia, you look absolutely majestic,” he greeted, his words coated in honey. As always, Alix colored, never comfortable with the praise her lord placed on her. Tavian carelessly tossed himself onto his throne, a leg thrown over one arm rest.
“Alix, I won't lie, I am in a fantastic mood. Everything is going according to plan, and I think all of our schemes are coming to an immediate conclusion.”
“I am happy for you, my lord,” Alix smiled, though her own tone was cautious.
“We should get away, take the ship somewhere new.”
Alix looked surprised. “Away from a dock city?” Tavian shrugged.
“We'll have them build a new one.”
Alix was not convinced it was quite that simple, but she saw no reason to spoil Tavian's pleasant disposition. Energetically, Tavian bounded up, stretching his arms above his head.
“So. What's the lineup for today?”
Alix referred to a data sheet she'd been holding. The plunging neckline of her dress made a distracting view which Tavian allowed himself to savor while she confirmed his schedule. The dress was cut in an upside down V-shape underneath the bosom, giving full view of her abdomen. At the waist, the dress was connected to a tabard in the front, a concession to propriety which still left little to the imagination in regards to her shapely legs. If she noticed his scrutiny, Alix made no sign.
“Lady Tiamat canceled, business has called her to the fourth port city, she sends her apologies.”
Tavian responded with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Wonderful, this day only improves. If there was one thing I did not feel the need for, it was her clumsy passive-aggressive attempts to impugn my honor.”
Though she was sorely tempted, Alix made no comment on the fact that Tavian Justinian allowed many of ladies of court to “impugn his honor” on a nigh daily basis. Lady Tiamat simply had the misfortune
of being married to a vindictive oaf of a man who would make more trouble than a lady of her mediocre bedding abilities (if court gossip was to be believed) was worth.
“Some petitioners from the sixth port city will come first then, that should please them.”
“Is there anything special about PC6?”
Alix consulted another sheet.
“Not as far as we know.”
“Any idea what they want?”
Alix chewed the end of her scriber nervously, her sharp canines bending the plastic while she studied the pages.
“No, sir, there’s been no reports to indicate-“
“No matter,” another of his characteristic dismissal waves, “Next?”
“A meeting with the Interior Overseer about replacing some of the panels with stained glass and other beautification projects.”
Tavian stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“What do you advise?”
Alix looked surprised, but needed only a moment to collect herself and formulate a response.
“With all due respect to the lord Overseer, I do not consider his plan prudent. I agree it would increase the morale of the citizens, however, sacrificing their safety is a poor trade off. Though there hasn’t been a Thyestrian assault for a few decades, we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent. Besides, allowing the serfs a greater view of the Wasteland will only increase the likelihood of their insurrection.”
Tavian laughed. “As always, Lady Olivia, your every word rains Seladore’s cunning and the ancients’ wisdom.”
“First meeting in the afternoon—Gregor Denisovich,” Alix hurried on. Tavian’s face sobered.
“What have we learned there?”
Closing her eyes, Alix focused on the mission she’d taken on just a few days earlier.
“Without Lacrymosa Cerastes, Gregor is forced to rely upon the children born After Outbreak. He’s dispatched several of the elder offspring to the surface with two missions: to increase pressure on his agents to find the Chalice and to determine the identity of your neophyte spy.” Tavian nodded; all as he’d expected.
“Anything else?”
Brow furrowing, Alix continued, frustration lacing her voice, “I’ve heard vague rumors regarding interest in one of the port cities but no one seems capable of substantiating any of them.”
“Probably financial affairs. Or he’s found a new wife. I understood his last one was quite a disappointment.”
After that, the schedule seemed quite routine: a few internal meetings with the various department heads, reorganizing the Justinian holdings, examining profits. Though Tavian appreciated the usefulness of the bureaucracy, he found the number crunching mind-numbingly monotonous.
Now warned what he would be facing for the day, the Adjudicator enjoyed a morning drink, tested by Alix and served in a crystal goblet, a remnant from the old-world. A quick face wash as the rest of the city woke and the court could open.
PC6 was affectionately referred to by its inhabitants as Midnight, as most of it was built into the side of or in the shadow of a great mountain. When the petitioners from PC6 entered, they were greeted with a warm golden light, an expansive hall gilded with plush red curtains and devoid of any furniture save the Adjudicator’s Seat.
What Tavian saw were two extremely agitated, if not downright terrified pair of neophytes. What concerned him was that they were not terrified of him. He kept his expression aloof but friendly, offering his typical greeting smile.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming. What can I, and the City, do for you today?”
The two bitten vampires repeatedly glanced at the windows and the columns which rose at intervals. They were a humorous looking pair; dressed in long coats of unpolished leather, the high turtle collars obscuring the lower half of their face, though the top of a Breather could be seen peeking just above. Their eyes were bloodshot, though whether this was from fear or from years of dust was impossible to determine. Tavian followed their glances.
“There is no one else here but the four of us, sirs, I assure you.”
Finally, the petitioners seemed to relax, though both still twitched spontaneously.
“Sir, the Potentate has sent us to request aid,” the dark-haired, older looking neophyte began.
Inwardly, Tavian sighed, Always in need of aid.
“What kind of aid?”
Now the sandy-haired, blue eyed youth, probably barely out of adolescence when he was turned, jumped in, his words and breath coming out in a rush.
“Honorable Tavian, please send Enforcers, lots of them. Our people are being picked off, every patrol we’ve sent out has been murdered and we’ve run out of our own city guards. Soon, I just know we will be overrun.”
Tavian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. Behind him, he could feel Alix’s heart rate increase but otherwise, she may have been made of marble.
“Is it the Thyestrians?”
The older of the petitioners shook his head.
“Surely not the NIL’s, you should be quite capable of handling any of them,” Tavian blinked in confusion.
“Mutants, sir,” the younger informed him, “New ones. They’re vicious and don’t hide underground like the Squees. Just one of them took out an Enforcer triad, good fighters, too, sir.”
“How many of them are there?”
Both the neophytes shook their heads.
“We’ve no idea, sir. We can’t afford to lose anymore guards, so no one has tried investigating.”
Tavian’s mind raced. Ever he was loathe to lose some of the City’s protectors, but Midnight was an important resource-extracting station and he hated the thought of losing it too. The Adjudicator snapped his fingers.
“Alix, get these men rooms and something to eat, they’ve performed a great service for us. Tell the Kristallnacht to prepare their team; they can have one of the shuttles. We want this resolved as quickly as possible.”
Alix nodded and led the petitioners, who were at this moment prostrating themselves with cries of thanks, out of the hall. Tavian leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes. Times like these kept things interesting, and though he would prefer all things to run smoothly, a challenge was always welcome. It kept the game stimulating. In just a few moments, Alix Lucretia had returned.
“Sir, are you sure it is prudent to dispatch our strongest Enforcers?” Tavian responded without opening his eyes.
“Like I said, lady, I want this resolved as quickly as it can. The best way to guarantee that is to neutralize the situation with my sharpest weapon. Besides, Rhynharken and his sister will appreciate the fresh air. We both know how well they deal with boredom.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I send the Overseer up?”
Tavian straightened his collar. “Please.”
When the lift doors opened, it was not the opulent head of the Interior but one of Tavian’s messengers, which he used when a messenger golem would not be considered reliable enough. The vampire (a pure-blood, though of no high standing), took two steps into the hall and knelt.
“My lord, urgent news.”
Tavian motioned him closer.
“What is it, Krasdar?”
Tavian’s favorite agent looked up, his pale-blue-almost-clear eyes bearing an unusual dark hue.
“Sir. We’ve lost contact with Marek. He’s gone.”