Sweep in Peace

“The Khanum?” Arland coughed. The last sip of tea must’ve gone wrong.

“Are you unwell?” Dagorkun inquired.

“Healthy as a krahr,” Arland said.

“That’s such a relief. I would hate for some illness to interfere and spoil the grand celebration I planned when I send you to your afterlife.”

“Really?” Arland’s eyes narrowed. “I’d think my succumbing to an illness would be a blessing, as it is the only way you could manage such a feat. I dare say, it would have to be a severe illness and even then, I fear the chances of your victory would be remote.”

The otrokar clicked his tongue. “Such hubris, Marshall.”

“I detest false modesty.”

“Perhaps we can test this theory?” Dagorkun offered.

Okay, that’s just enough of that. “I am glad the rooms were to your liking, Under-Khan. Unfortunately, I must ask you to depart so the Marshal of House Krahr can inspect the quarters of his people.”

Dagorkun’s eyes narrowed. “And if I insisted on staying?”

Thin brilliant blue cracks formed in the handle of my broom. The floor in front of Dagorkun shifted, fluid like water. “Then I’ll seal your body in wood so all you can do is blink and use you as a lawn ornament.”

Dagorkun blinked.

“This summit is very important to me,” I explained.

The wall behind me creaked as the inn bent toward Dagorkun, responding to the tone of my voice. The otrokar’s hand went to his knife.

I waved my fingers and the wall snapped back to its normal state. “I won’t let anyone or anything interfere with the peace talks in my domain.”

Arland set his cup on the table. “You should test her, Dagorkun. She couldn’t possibly be that powerful.”

I pointed the handle of my broom at him. The vampire grinned, flashing his fangs, and chuckled.

“I see.” Dagorkun rose. “Thank you for the tea, Innkeeper.”

I solidified the floor and led him to the door. He pulled on his cloak and walked into the night. I waited until the inn announced his departure and turned to Arland.

“Ours is an old rivalry,” he said. “You can’t blame us. They are barbarians. Do you know how one becomes a Khan? One would expect a proper progression – a ruler’s son, learning statecraft at his father’s knee, studying with the best tutors, gaining experience under the guidance of talented generals on the battle field, building alliances, until finally he takes his rightful place, supported by his power base. One would expect this, but no. They elect him. The army gathers and votes.” He spread his arms. “It’s ridiculous.”

Of course, hereditary aristocracy was much better. That never went wrong. How silly of them to try this thing called democracy. I wondered what he would say if I reminded him that the US was a republic. “Shall we see to the rooms?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Arland rose and I led him to the hallway. We turned left this time. The hallway brought us to the formal stairway of pale grey stone. Crimson banners of the Holy Cosmic Anocracy hung on the walls, illuminated by delicate glass ornaments that glowed with gentle pale light. Arland raised his thick eyebrows. “Just like home.”

Perfect. We started up the stairway.

“Six months ago House Krahr was going stale from the lack of war,” I said. “Now suddenly you’re involved in the Nexus Conflict? What happened?”

Arland grimaced. “House Meer happened. What is taking place on Nexus isn’t a war; it’s hell. It’s been going on for over a decade, and it’s too much for any one House. About a year into this war, the Holy Anocracy had divided the Houses into seven Orders to share the burden of the conflict. Each Order takes the responsibility for Nexus for a year. House Krahr is the House of the First Order. We already fought on Nexus half a decade ago.”

Every time he said Nexus, he paused for a tiny second the way one would before saying Hell in the true sense of that word. Five standard years ago he would’ve been a seasoned knight. It must’ve been terrible, because the memories of it still haunted him.

The stairs ended in a stone arch. The walls here rose to a dizzying height and the blood-red banner of the Holy Anocracy hung from the ceiling with the Holy Fangs and the eight point star emblazoned in silver on it. The star commemorating the vampire progress to interstellar flight wasn’t above or below the stylized fangs, but sat between them. The symbolism was clear: the Holy Anocracy would bite the Galaxy with its fangs and swallow it. Without a word, Arland lowered himself on one knee and bowed his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, then rose, as if the heavy armor he wore was light as silk. We stepped through the arch.

“Two months ago the Sixth Order was scheduled to take over, but the two major Houses of the Sixth Order had been decimated, one by a war and the other by a planet-wide natural disaster. They had neither the means nor the power to mount a suitable defense against the otrokar offensive. They were willing, but it was determined that we would lose our hold on Nexus if they bore the sole responsibility for it. The duty should’ve passed to the Seventh Order. The Seventh Order consists of four Houses, with House Meer being by far the most powerful. House Meer dishonored itself and refused to fight. Given as the other three houses in the Order are small, and two of them are also warring with each other at the moment, the responsibility for Nexus passed on to us.”

I frowned. “House Meer can do that?”