Even at Mach 2 speed, it took Kilian’s delegation eight hours to reach Nargoz’s territory and dive toward its capital. Having warned the Nargozi beforehand, they didn’t face any hurdle. Shrunken to palm-size, the drone-like frigate dropped on the private landing platform reserved for foreign dignitaries. But while the frigate’s size and speed gave no one the time to gaze upon it, the racket left by twice the speed of sound startled many citizens. And as Kilian’s aircraft landed, his bodyguards stood up, ready to line around him.
The aircraft returned to initial size, Kilian’s eyes opened, and alongside the 12, he stepped out of the frigate. Thick icy-blue mist welcomed them all, but activating their visors, the bodyguards saw through it and stood in a perfect military formation.
The blue mist dispersed, revealing three figures dressed in black wizard robes embroidered with red flame patterns. Silver belts tied their waists, and they all possessed the same blood-red eyes. While commoners and women in Arcadia’s cities dressed in a similar fashion as on Earth, due to their clerical and thaumaturgic heritage, male aristocrats adopted a more austere look. Kilian, for example, wore a long-sleeved white robe with large golden epaulettes, and the von Karstens’ eagle emblem on either side of his belt.
“Welcome, Junior Duke, to Nargoz,” the three men said and bowed in greetings. At first, the move surprised Kilian. After all, Kars may be Arcadia’s number three city, but in traditional hierarchy, Nargoz ranked higher. However, when he saw the red half-moon marks on their foreheads, he realized why.
“Whose huntmasters are you?”
“The August Orphan, the chancellor and the chamberlain’s,” the three answered Kilian’s inquiry. During the Eternal Night, bloodkins were hunters and herd-keepers for their chiropteran masters. Equipped for the job, bloodkins were all born or reborn with a huntmaster and several hunting dogs.
The huntmaster remained one level weaker than his bloodkin, and the hunting dogs, a whole rank below. And while in Nargoz they possessed a lofty status, on Arcadian law, huntmasters were household slaves.
“Very well, lead the way,” Kilian said. While some might think that a reception of huntmasters was beneath their dignity, Kilian didn’t care for aristocratic pedantry and understood Oliver’s good will.
Satisfied by his reaction, the huntmasters clapped, red mist gathered, coalescing into fifteen, massive blood-red mastiffs. Each possessed the strength of a top-level Core Templar, showing that their masters either were top High Templars or High Emissaries.
“The August Orphan hopes you will do us the honor of riding his blood hunters and get a glimpse of Nargoz’s scenic places,” one huntmaster said, and before his bodyguards could protest, Kilian leaped on a blood mastiff’s back.
With thrice the muscle mass of an English Mastiff, blood-colored fur and the mane of a lion, those blood mastiffs indeed didn’t make the average man feel safe around them. Fearing an accident, Kilian’s bodyguards were about to plead their case when his voice echoed in their earpieces.
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“Let’s get something out of the way, you’re my jailors, not my bodyguards. Wilfried chose you to make sure that I won’t use the assignment to escape; the rest has nothing to do with you. Until I give you express orders, behave, or I will have to prove his choice incorrect.”
The words stopped the 12 in their tracks, and underneath their visors, their faces experienced wild changes. Not daring to reply, they backpedaled, and bowed in understanding.
“Those 12 won’t need mounts. Let’s go,” Kilian ordered, and although they could sense that some silent confrontation occurred, the three huntmasters didn’t care to investigate, clapped, and sent the excess blood hunters on their way back. Riding their own mounts, they soared into the air, leading the way for Kilian. With their flight-able Zurishells, Kilian’s guards followed right behind, experiencing Nargoz’s eponymous capital alongside him.
Cold and nightmarishly even is the best description of Nargoz’s climate. Although it seemed trapped in an eternal ice age, Nargoz didn’t have that much snow. But while snow didn’t last over two months, the bone-chilling cold remained all year long. A dark, overcast sky prevented the sunlight from freely dropping, and while in good days the weather stagnated at 0 degree celsius, intermittent waves of icy-blue mist often covered the citizens’ eyes. Bloodkin or not, most citizens had pale-white skin akin to Anke’s.
And perhaps due to this harsh climate, tall black towers with pointed roofs and dark cathedrals dominated the city. Most wore black, or other dark colors, with the cathedral-styled buildings hosting schools, colleges and the like. Led by lower-ranked huntmasters, blood hunters patrolled the city, keeping order through their daunting auras alone. But while far from Kars’ technological level, Nargoz was equipped with a rotation mechanism, enabling the royal family to modify the geography at will and control all that occured on land.
Riding on clouds of blood, the hunters descended upon Nargoz’s royal palace which, just like its city, boasted a gothic architecture. Like a small mountain of its own, Nargoz’s royal palace housed about one million citizens. Low-ranked nobles or commoners with red eyes had to leave their families for the Veidt palace and spend the remainder of their lives behind its walls. There, they learned to control their powers and the craving for the hunt that brimmed in all their hearts. Should a bloodkin drink human blood, they’d obtain the slit pupils of a snake, and give off the stench of their victims’ blood—execution followed.
Around the castle’s tallest tower, the statue of an abomination with the upper body of a hulky werebat and the lower end of a dragon coiled, reminding the world of Nargoz’s chiropteran heritage.
Wrapping Kilian and his guards into a red orb, the mastiffs turned into sanguine mist, charging past the walls to dive straight into the great hall where the Blood Court stood with Grand Prince Oliver and his wife, the ravishing princess Kathrin.
Leaping off his steed, Kilian landed before the heir apparent to Nargoz’s throne, a handsome man who despite being twice his age, didn’t look older than him.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” Kilian said, and instantly, the atmosphere tensed.