By The Blood

Smiling, Marcel took out a brown scroll from his bag. He opened it, coughed slightly, and began to read the contents. “By the decree of His Majesty, The Sovereign Ruler, the Lord of all Humanity, the Master of the 12 Legions, the One ordained by the 11 Gods, He who owns the land of all humanity under the watchful gaze of the gods, you are commanded to offer up one million pounds of meat to be given to the military for nourishment in the War of Grace.”

What? Tobias thought, struggling to keep his composure. He resisted the urge to react outwardly to the notary who had revealed himself as a delegate of the Sovereign Ruler. Now he understood why Marcel had arrived with Blooded Knights. But one million pounds? He didn’t even have that much live meat, and his Sanguine wasn’t of a high class. Producing such an amount without incurring a massive cost would ruin him.

“You have one month,” Marcel continued, not giving Tobias time to process the situation. “Signed by the Sovereign Ruler, the High Lords of Humanity, and the 10 Ministries.”

Ten? Why ten and not eleven? Tobias clenched his jaw. He knew the answer, of course. The Untampered Storm Ministry was currently supporting the opposing party in this War of Grace.

“You may stand,” Marcel said with a smile.

“Sir Marcel,” Tobias said in a low voice as he stood up, “how can I produce one million pounds of meat in one month?” It was less a question and more a plea. The notary was just a messenger; he was not the Sovereign and couldn’t answer his question.

“I wouldn’t know. However,” Marcel wrapped the scroll and placed it back into his bag before pulling out another, much smaller one, “I will have to send this to the Tome Vaults once you sign it and accept the contract.”

Contract? Contract?... This is outright extortion! It’s because I’m from a weak family. If I were from one of the great houses or the High Lords of Humanity, he wouldn’t dare ask such a thing— He immediately cut himself off. He was dangerously close to blasphemy. After all, to insult the Sovereign was to insult the gods who placed him in that position.

“And once I sign it?” Tobias asked, knowing he had no choice but to comply. The Adeiheid family was not powerful. They didn’t even have an evolution branch! He could only hire Sanguines. Even he had become one by purchasing the information from the black market.

“Once you do, my work here will be done,” Marcel replied with a smile.

Work done? Aren’t you going to Walter? Wait... Why would he even go to Walter? Last I checked, he was a Pleasure-Master, not a flesh cultivator. Or did he change professions? He can’t be that daring, can he?

“What about Walter?” Tobias finally asked.

The notary looked at him in silence before responding, “I do have a similar deal for him. But it requires him to offer some girls to the men of the army. War takes a toll, and relief is a way to build strength.” Marcel casually glanced at the looming mountain covered in red dust.

So, more extortion. Damn this! Is it just because I’m weak? My ancestors weren’t like this. Back when the Fallen Empire still existed, we were a force. Not on the level of the 12 Sanguine Families of that time, but still far stronger than we are now. But... everything is lost. But then... if everything is lost, shouldn’t I be a bit daring?

He looked at the notary and said, “Bring the contract tomorrow. Then I might sign it.”

“What?” The notary smiled, confused. “Do you realize that you are indirectly refusing an imperial decree?”

“I’ve said no such thing. I simply said you should bring it tomorrow. That’s when you should have arrived anyway.” Tobias stared at the midday red sky, indifferent to the half-amused expression on Marcel’s face.

“All right then. But know that actions delayed are the same as actions not taken at all. Both the reward and the punishment are given accordingly.” Marcel smiled before bowing. “Be pure,” he said, then exited the balcony silently.

Tobias stared into the distance for several moments before clenching his jaw. “I have to contact Siegfried. To think a day would come when I’d work with a secret faction... I suppose I dare to call them heretics. A bunch of profane, pale-ordered lunatics. But I dare to seek their power and protection. The Adeiheid family must rise like the phoenix... once again.”

Karl looked at the white sun, partially obscured by the black-red clouds that were slowly tinged with a twilight hue. He had heard stories. Stories from the beastmen about times long ago when the sun was not white. Times when it exuded a golden light and the sky didn’t rain red dust. When the world wasn’t stuck in constant gray and redness, and the beastmen weren’t slaves. Times before the empire and the declaration of the First Order. Times when creatures that were not human were allowed to exist. Well, not that he knew what that was like. Was he even part of the so-called non-human?

Karl watched the sun, blinking to block out the falling dust. His gaze followed the giant white orb as it slowly crept toward the western horizon. He stood quietly, taking a breath. His eyes lowered to the stone building before him.

He stood with a few beastmen. Astrid wore her usual smile as she approached. The pungent scent of blood was discernible even from a distance. The dark stone building with a wooden roof stood surrounded by tall stalks of corn on all sides, some resting on the building as if seeking shade from the sun. Eventually, Karl sighed and walked along the pathway, walled by corn, toward the building.

Arriving at the Sanguine breeding shed, Karl discreetly adjusted his tail as he watched a middle-aged beastman take the lead. “Mr. Abraham, we’re here to check on the drove.”

A sharp squeal echoed through the area, followed by the gentle creaking of the door. A figure had opened it.

So ugly, Karl thought at the sight of the opener.

Dressed in tattered robes stained with dried and fresh blood, a man—or something that resembled one—forced a smile. He had a large pink head with a long snout that leaked yellowish mucus. Tears welled up in his black, round eyes. A squeal could be faintly heard at certain moments.

“Abomination!” the middle-aged beastman snorted.

The pig-man creature stepped aside, gesturing in a way that might have seemed elegant but was not. It was more like a monster inviting victims for ‘lunch.’

I wonder what goes through his head. Is he content with the life he’s forced to live, or would he accept death if it came to him? Karl thought as he followed the young beastman into the shed, his hand subtly adjusting the direction of his tail.

Karl entered and turned to face the rather spacious room, a stark contrast to the small exterior. A large cauldron stood in the center, overseeing a vast barn with wooden walls that barricaded the squealing pigs. A man sat beside the cauldron, his gaze focused on the bubbling contents within. Faint black smoke puffed from it, vanishing as quickly as it formed. It looked akin to the mist that ruled the nights of this world. Apart from that, the room was lit by a few eternal lamps hanging on the stone walls, though they were placed at a distance that didn’t connect to the wooden roof.

Karl stood silently in a corner, observing.

Abraham, not paying attention to the group that had arrived, dipped his hands into the cauldron. His hands flared to life, burning like the sensation of hot water, but the cauldron itself was cold as ice. He steadied himself, reaching deeper into the cauldron. Soon, he felt something—a soft, meaty substance!

He pulled with all his might. The cauldron quivered violently as if the life within the pot resisted its emergence. However, Frederick Abraham was used to this. He quickly hardened his gaze. Strength was the only way to win. He needed to overpower the life. This was the principle mothers in the old world abided by To create life, you must be strong enough to birth it.

Right now, he was a mother!

Sweat dripped from his forehead into the cauldron, sizzling upon contact. Labor was hard. But eventually, the resistance faded, and a small pink creature emerged from the cauldron. It was a live, squealing pig, the size of a human child! He had given birth to yet another life. This filled Frederick with joy, and he cradled the creature with a smile. His feminine black hair cascaded down to his arms. At this moment, he resembled a mother meeting her baby for the first time.

Standing up, he moved toward the edge of the barn. He heaved a breath and nonchalantly tossed the piglet into the barn before returning to his cauldron.

A mother also had to drive her children to produce the best of themselves.

Sitting down, he glanced at the pack of beastmen. “When would I bring such life?” The pig-man creature rushed to his mother, squealing as it knelt before Frederick. His mother’s words had hurt him.

Abraham smiled and patted the round pigman’s head. “Wouldn’t you want brothers?”

The pig creature only squealed and did not speak. But it was clear that it wanted its mother all to itself. It hugged him even tighter.

The middle-aged beastman stepped forward, snorting. “How is the drove coming along?”

“My children will be ready to be slaughtered by tomorrow, so don’t worry,” Abraham said with a smile. His eyes shifted to Karl, who leaned against the blood-stained wall. “How are you?” he asked.

Again. Every day for the past two years. The same question, Karl thought before responding, “The same.” This had always been his answer to the plain, dry question.

Abraham smiled and nodded. “That’s how it should be. Son of the fal—” He suddenly cut himself off, his gaze shifting to the bubbling liquid in the cauldron. “It’s going well. You don’t need to worry about the drove.”

This again... Son of the fallen. He always calls me that.

Aurelian stared at a few flyers pasted on the wooden boards, each bearing his face. Below it, they had written “Thal’zin,” which meant “coward” in the language of the Maw people.

Me, a coward? He had answered the call of his Archon, a man he once respected and even loved. They all did. At least until they were sent through a part of the Nightmare Plains, despite rumors of a large encampment of winter elves and Donnersburg traitor legions in the area. But as a true Black Sand Regiment of the Chaos Hunter Legion of the Empire, he stood proud. They all did... He and his friends. His squad was obviously attacked, and slaughtered. In the end, his friends sacrificed their lives so he could call for reinforcements. At that time, he still believed that his Archon didn’t know about the trap.

He requested help, but it never came. And that was when he realized the truth. Everything had been a plan. The Archon had sent a spy with them to assess the fighting prowess of the camp. They were sent on a mission so their Archon could learn how quickly the winter elves and traitor legions could kill them.

But today, he would get his confession. He wore a white coat buttoned on the left side of his chest and white trousers, slightly stained by red dust. His brown hair covered half his face, leaving only his right eye exposed, a deep blackness within it.

He walked the pathways lined with tents, stained by the falling blood dust. Ahead loomed a blackened red keep, with flags hoisted on each of the towers. The sky was a swirling layer of red clouds, interchanging with dark ones. He passed various guardsmen and women, some talking, others pulling or moving one cannon or another. There was a time when he did such grunt work