Chapter Thirty: Daffyd

I wonder if anyone notices me disappearing into my new office for hours on end without any mention of why. I wonder, but I don’t really know if I care. I find the company of the sector leader, Central Time UTC -06:00, Olivia Lockhart, to be more than enough reason to stray away from the norms I have placed myself in. Giving me a concrete center. Brooke once gave me this. Something to cling to, rather than collapsing into myself but she no longer has this effect on me. She has become a redundancy, another pointless monarch.

I can’t say if this is because of my current infatuation or the growth I’ve done since I took up the old notes. After all, I lost a lot, and now I’m slowly starting to regain the trust I lost in myself.

“So, when are we going to meet up off the net?” Olivia asks me. We’ve been speaking for the past few days through various mediums. We’ve never discussed meeting up one on one. And though I have seen her and met her many times before, like a schoolboy crush, I find myself nervous behind the question.

“Soon.” The only reply I can give. “With the war continuing on as it does, I don’t believe that now is the time to show a divided house between myself and the queen.”

She acknowledges it with a shrug.

“But the war is spinning in my favor. Especially with the troops you and the others have given to me. My army’s numbers greatly outweigh the predicted wolf count. We strike them hard now in their lands with all the additional troops, and they won’t stand a chance against us if they try and break out. There are a few other measures in place. A few people who will continually benefit us so long as we don’t stop paying them. I don’t think that should turn out to be too much of an issue either. Within the next few weeks, I believe the war will be over and we will be in control again with Romulus’ head on a pike.”

She snickers at the comment. “You seem to have it all worked out,” she adds, a soft smile accompanying.

“Anyone ever tell you that smile of yours can melt even the coldest heart?” I throw in. The flirtation and banter have been strong with us for the past days, so I know the comment won’t be misconstrued.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Oh…” The answer is upsetting.

“You just did, right there?” she teases.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I get distracted by the door.

“Sir,” Hamish calls out, “I think you should see this.”

“What could that be?” she says in sly confusion.

“I wonder,” I reply with a stern honesty. “I’ll talk to you again soon. Let me go see what’s going on with Hamish.”

“Of course,” she replies, pressing the button to end the call.

“Hamish, what is it?” I shout out the door. He mumbles something from behind the door. “Come in, man. I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.” He steps inside and comes to sit opposite me at the desk.

“I do think you should come see.” We both stand up, and he begins leading me to the entry hall door. Pushing them open, a massive force of lieutenants, fighters, and fledglings stand at my door, on attention. They take up near the entirety of the open plane where the Veil sits.

“How many are there?” I near shout with elation.

“I don’t know,” Hamish replies. He was supposed to be handling these smaller details, getting as many as we can from the various leaders.

“Who sent them?” Someone begins walking to us from the front of the line. By a wrap on his arm, I can tell that he’s a lieutenant.

“King Daffyd,” he interrupts, Hamish only replying to my question with a shrug, “we are the forces sent by Lady Olivia Lockhart.” He informs, “Twelve thousand men and women ready to do what needs to be done to end this war. She asked me to personally speak with you on this.”

The lieutenant turns to Hamish. “Don’t worry about him. He can stay,” I reply. He knows enough about Olivia and I already. Hamish, the poor simpleton, will never break the bonds we constructed.

“Among us are of her best troops. The Black Berets, the Emerald Guard, and the Golden Knights. She has given us instruction to do as you command us to do. Specializing in personal, long range, and tactical combat. We are the forces that have guarded our lady and her order for generations.” Atop his head is a black beret. I notice that their uniforms each, somehow, indicate what they are. Some wear the greens, some dressed fully in black, and others’ outfits have a golden hue. Their uniformity is something I’ve not seen in the vampires for a good long time. Olivia has a good grasp on this command. Something I should speak to her about.

“And you said twelve thousand?” This shoots our projections for battle through the roof.

“Yes, King Daffyd,” he replies. His stance never breaking from a military pose, his eyes looking at me…through me. A good soldier in any war.

“And what about the rest?”

“Between the twenty-two others, we’ve gotten over twenty thousand troops. With our own forces and the twelve that Olivia sent, we stand over fifty thousand against the wolves’ projected ten.”

I can’t believe it. One strike will bring them to their knees now. We have five vampires to their one wolf. Sure, we’re fighting off on their territory, but that means nothing. We have become accustomed, in our times, to fight here, there, and everywhere.

“How many did they lose in the tunnels?” I ask Hamish.

“They lost a troop of two thousand.”

“Then if they were so low on troops, why didn’t we do this years ago?”

“Because of the Forsaken and shifter elements. Now they have the witches,” he reminds me.

“Are we still sourcing more vampires?”

“Yes. More should be in tomorrow and the next day. That should be the last. Fledglings mostly. Not many have sent a good deal of lieutenants. They want to win the war but not lose their most valued.”

“You may return to your line,” I tell the man, and he begins moving back. I walk further onto the patio to see better. A massive army of its own. We could have fought the rest of the war with mine and her army alone. “They will find that this cuts from their own returns on the war, but that is fine. Victory will fall into our laps with this. Now, give the word that they rest and prepare. Find housing for them. We strike on Romulus tomorrow. A fight that will not end until every wolf and every witch is cleared from that swamp or they bow down and praise my name.”

“Yes, sir.” Hamish runs off into the mansion.

This war will be won on pure infatuation.