The Vampire & Her Witch

"Steady on, Bastian," Valeri murmured to the young Hanrahan lord sitting beside him. The young man was mopping his brow for the third time in as many minutes and his face looked as pale with fear as a soldier setting foot on the battlefield for the first time.

"You've survived worse than a presentation to the Lothian Court. Remember, you're only here to represent your father, not to be judged for any of his failings in his absence," the aging baron said in a tone that directed a measure of scorn at the Hanrahan Baron who refused to join him on the front lines all those years ago, even though they were fighting on the borders of Hanrahan barony in the quest to claim Airgead mountain.

While the old baron had yet to hear any specifics of what had happened to Hanrahan barony to provoke a summons to an emergency meeting of the available noblemen, he was certain that at least half of the blame for whatever had happened could be laid at the feet of Ian Hanrahan and his constant, cowardly schemes.

There had been a time when the Hanrahans had been known as bold frontiersmen, clearing the wilderness with their axes and turning it into some of the most bountiful lands in Lothian March through the hard work of both their people and their lords. All of that seemed to have ended, however, when Aiden Hanrahan inherited the throne from his brother and raised up a cowardly heir like Ian, who grew fat on the work of others.

"It, it isn't the presentation to the court that I'm worried about," Bastian whispered back, his voice tight with anxiety. "Lord Leufroy, what if the Marquis orders us to campaign through winter? We aren't like the Dunns, we don't maintain a large force of trained soldiers during times of peace, and we weren't planning to train up soldiers for the Holy War until the spring planting was in. The demons..."

"The demons will be dealt with," Liam Dunn interrupted, his voice carrying barely contained fury despite his attempt to keep it low. "The demons think they can raid our lands with impunity, but they're about to learn otherwise. The Hanrahans might not be ready to march to war, but we won't sit idly by and let this attack go unanswered."

After the success of his campaign during the summer, Liam had been certain that he would have had no trouble calling up one of the largest forces in the march when the time came to march to war. He even felt that many of the men who joined the war from across the sea would flock to his banner when they learned which of the border lords had proven the greatest success at pushing the demons back year after year. The coming war would have been a tremendous opportunity, not just for him, but for the entire barony to lift itself up.

Now, however, the joy he'd felt at the end of summer turned bitter on his tongue as he confronted the idea that this latest demon invasion was his fault. The demons had yielded ground too easily on more than one occasion.

At the time, he'd thought that it was because they were suffering from years of losses to Dunn advances and they were finally ready to crumble, but now, he wondered if they'd just been biding their time to launch a counter-attack at a time when his people were at their most vulnerable.

"Such enthusiasm, Young Lord Liam," Otker chuckled softly, swirling his wine. "Though I wonder if you're learning the right lesson from all of this. Your family has been spreading itself awfully thin with all those hamlets for a long time," he pointed out. "Perhaps this is a lesson in remembering your station instead of trying to rise above it. It might be better to cut your losses rather than compounding them, don't you think?"

"This has nothing to do with rising above our station," Liam shot back, his knuckles white as he gripped his cup. "My people are dying while you count profits. Besides," he added with a condescending sneer. "I never once heard you complaining about our hamlets when they were sending an endless stream of barges downriver through your territory."

"Even if you can't bring yourself to care for the people who lost their lives," Liam hissed. "You can at least send us some soldiers to protect the source of so much of your wealth, can't you? You don't even need to ride to war yourself," he added with a withering look at the baron's rotund figure. "I promise you, we know better than you how to make use of your barony's soldiers."

"Gentlemen," Baron Leufroy said, raising a weathered hand to stop the argument before it grew heated enough to be heard at the other tables. "Save your arguments for after everyone has made their reports. From the sound of things, we'll have plenty to debate once young His Grace has heard what everyone has to say, and it looks like it won't be long now before we begin."

All around the hall, servants quietly withdrew after leaving behind trays of refreshments for the gathered lords, along with stacks of parchment, sealing wax, and other supplies for writing out orders or sending messages.

At this point, it would become the responsibility of the most junior noblemen present, or perhaps Lady Jocelynn as the only woman present who wasn't a servant of the church, to tend to the needs of the Lothian Court while they deliberated in a secret, closed session.

Several people were missing from the gathering, but Bors dared not wait to summon all of his barons to address the news that the two young lords brought from their respective territories. Winter was nearly upon them, and each day they wasted on the formalities of official summons, receptions, and everything else that went with calling up the court, the less time they would have to respond before the first snows fell.

"I'm sure you've all heard at least some of the news from the western baronies," Bors said, gesturing to the table where Liam and Bastian sat. "But rather than answer your questions, I think we should all hear firsthand from the young lords about what has befallen their homes. Gentlemen? Which of you will speak first?"

"I will," Liam said, barely able to restrain himself as he stood to address Bors and the gathered court. "My Lord Marquis," he began formally. "I urge you to prepare a summons to all the barons of the realm and to call up their armies at once. The Undying Demons, unseen in a hundred years, have returned to our borders, and if we do not root them out now, then none of us may survive the winter!"