H E M E S

/heɪl/

As expected, the lord refuted the sentence, but I had my indictment ready.

"Lord Cojoc abandoned more than ninety Seconds in the last six months. Seconds, which include minors without forgetting some created others. This practice is against our laws. No minor is to become a Strigoi, and I won't even get into the dupery methods he uses. We should not take life without the person knowing what they are giving up and how they are to live once adopted."

"This is absurd," lady Cornea interjects.

"Absurd is this habit you have all taken of overlooking this matter. We live off human blood what will become of us when all shall be seconds?"

"My son isn't the only one who has converted minors."

I turn to look at Jesus, who sinks back into his chair. My brother's past is what they use every time they want to counter one of my decisions.

"What my brother did was under another constitution and ruler. If he were to do the same actions today, he would undergo the same punishment. I'm aware many of you believe Seconds help gain power. All of you have more followers than I do. Therefore, I will consider the abusive creation of Seconds act of treason against the nation from now on.

"Lord, Lord, Lord," many cry.

I used to believe in the use of this; I created many during the world wars. I thought I saved people from famine and sickness. I was wrong; I spent over a decade hunting them down, killing them one by one for many became Others, bloodthirsty killers, without souls.

"We are no longer at war with the Helsings, and there isn't even one left to combat. Tell me, what is the use of having such an army?"

"I agree with lord Søren; the voice is my grandmothers, respected Olav [elder, or ancestor]."

The lords remain silent after her intervention.

"Also, I want all Seconds to know our laws. I ask for a simplification of the texts, and, if possible, I wish for them written in English."

"Lord, we can't. Our laws are sacred. The texts are almost all we have left of our vestiges."

"Pss, pshitt."

I turn to look at Jesus.

"Ask them to simplify all the names, too," he whispers.

"We can hear you, Lord, Jesus," says lord Volkov.

"I was saying, can't we simplify the appellations all these sons of Dracos, the blood of Van, Helsing relic, the counsel of the dark highest, I mean, call a screwdriver a screwdriver. Who came up with these stupid and pompous names.

"Your father, Lord Dracula, lord Jesus."

"Ah, eh, I see," says Jesus, who sinks once more in his seat.

Someone chuckles.

"Lord Magnus, perhaps you want to share with us what you find so entertaining."

"Well, I just thought your priorities are a bit fucked up. Sorry, I meant to say there are more urgent matters."

Though I've forced him into the back of my mind, I can't ignore him.

My father was a great ruler. After Inerglas' mother's blood sacrifice to give father power, he married Princess Olia, my mother. Count Dracula immigrated with his followers to Denmark to live in the castle of Egeskov, where Jesus and I were born. Flirtatious father played dangerous games with the wife of Lord Sidious Arcadius during the unique night of conception. A bastard was born, a vile creature darker than any Tepes.

Magnus Arcadius a royal pain; his ambitions are clear. He desires the throne and promises to restore Strigoi's greatness. According to Magnus and all the Arcadius branches, to attain this so-called greatness, humans should become our slaves or be sold at the butcher's to feed both Strigoi and varcolâc. The twist is different, but Jesus shares their opinion.

Nothing new under the sun, but this speech seduces many who side with the Arcadius faction. The debt is as old as time, and the start of many past wars as other species had the same thoughts about us. The consensus found with the Hawks stopped the bloodshed, but the grudges and resentment remain thick.

Magnus toys with this by objecting to my motions as he refutes the fact that the right of veto bestowed upon me makes me king; therefore, the republic is a mascarade. Though I agree, I can not admit the legitimacy of his speech. My position and the fact that I profoundly despise him make it impossible.

This hatred grows with every word he pronounces at this instant, "listen to all of you, worrying about scripture translations when seconds are dying from the hands of the unknown. These murders should be our priority right now, instead of ordering the death of our kind for humanity's safekeeping.

Jesus gives me an I-told-you-so-glare.

"What are you doing about that broㅡI mean Lord Søren of the highest?" Magnus finishes.

Though I can't see him, all like me can hear the cynical and enchanted tone in his voice as he provokes me. Magnus, like Tarnish, sees me as vulnerable. I have never given them a reason to perceive me another way.

In battle, I stood behind the marchers. During meetings, I could not utter a word without stuttering; I've never shown any talent. Yet I stopped the war in a diplomatic arrangement that some still loathe me for as I executed their king lord Dracula.

"So what will you do, lord, Soren?" Magnus urges.

"Sir Iverson, are you here?"

"No, my lord. I am standing in for him as he is investigating the murders," answers Everton.

"Why was I not informed of this?"

"He did not want to alarm you. Sir Iverson preferred to investigate before crying out the wolf and accusing thin air."

"Have you made any conclusions?"

"Sorry, my lord, we are still in the midst."

"Then, I shall join you in New York and see you the matter."

Gasps feel the room, and the bats flutter their wings as the reigning cacophony excites them.

"Sorry, my lord, I'm afraid I lost you. Can you repeat, please?"

"I said I would see to this myself during a visit this week."

Since I arrived in Crimson, I've avoided all voyages, and I haven't done one a visit in a century. My announcement comes as a shock.

"I take note, lord, we stand awaiting your arrival."

The assembly ends; Jesus gives me a thumbs up while Tarnish, who stands in human form against the wall, sticks her tongue out at me.

Mephisto enters and whistles as he sees the havoc caused by Jesus and I feud. Almost everything is sliced in half or broken," Boss, do you need me to go to Ikea or something?