NationStates Jolt Archive

“Okay, I find you later.” said Edward. He looked back at his cards. He needs to play cards with his family, don’t know when the next time would come rounding around. He needs to bond with them because each day, a new thing will come around.

Denise was dressed, and she was ready. Dialing on her phone, she entered Remy's phone number.

Remy picked up his cell-phone, which was on the poker table, and answered it. “Yo.” he said, still playing cards.

"Hi!" She said enthusiastically. "Are you ready?"

“Yes.” said Remy. “Damn it." Remy just lost to Edward, a cool 10,000 dollar pot.

“Sorry about that. Playing some poker before we go out."

"Alright. Do you want me to pick you up or vice versa?" She asked sweetly.

“Up to you.” said Remy. “The H2 is still at the manor but the keys are with me. I say we get a limo.”

"You get the limo, I'm paying for the food!" She said.

“Okay, But I think Edward has a limo we can use.” said Remy. He looked over at Edward, “Yes, I have one.” he said.

“Good the limo is cover.” said Remy, he pulled down his cards and got up. “I will see you soon.”

With a driver, the dark blue limo heads towards Denise’s manor.

Denise waited.

The limo pulled into manor’s driveway and stopped in front of the front door. The driver opened the back door and Remy heads towards the front door. He knocked…

Denise waited outside, her dress donned in a long black, silky like fabric, her arms wrapped around a long band of wrapped darkness, she wore a long black dress, although she had no earrings on, no exotic jewellery of any kind latched upon her fingers, just a simple black dress, but it wrapped around her beautifully, blonde streaks in her brown hair.

“You look beautiful.” said Remy. He moved in to kiss her.

"Let's go." She said, blocking the kiss, her fingers running through his hair playfully, as she got into the limousine.

“Oh…come up.” said Remy, hopping in to the back. “One kiss.” The driver shuts the back door and head to the driver seat. The limo started out of the driveway.

"How about later." She said, a tone of finality in her voice, pausing for a second. "Oh, what the hell." She said, throbbing him in kisses.

Remy went with the flow of things, kissing her back. The driver heads towards the capital.

"Goodbye." Aulocos said, hanging up the telephone, as a bruised and bloodied Saerus on a cane walked in, his arms purple and his face beaten, his body soft and his bones brittle. He was like a glass skeleton on minced meat. Aulocos turned around, a new and different mask on, more gruesome and vidily macabre than before. The markings in a twisted 'S' made a sharp face, as small slits for eyes showed through, no hole for a nose this time.

"What's going on?" Saerus asked, sitting down, sighing softly. "Who was that?"

"I'm letting people know of Denise." Aulocos said. "Dear Enkur, what fate has befallen you?" He asked with surprise.

"Authaulus is helping me train. He says I would make a horrible Temsplace." Saerus said, holding a small pack of ice on his cheek, bulging and soft, but still slightly rigid.

"You are a bit small to be a Holy Warrior." Aulocos reasoned.

After making it into the capital, the driver rolled down the window that blocks the driver cockpit with the passengers area. “Miss Denise, where do I head now?” asked the driver, still looking ahead at the road.

"My name's Miss Territurari, but you can call me Terri." Denise said, a tone of royalty in her voice. "You turn a bit left, and then turn left again, and then you go up the hill and stop at a red lane on the right."

“Okay, Miss Territurari.” said the driver. He rolled the window back up and stared following the directions.

"We're almost there." Denise said.

"I'm not small for a Holy Warrior." Saerus complained, as Aulocos chuckled, turning his head.

"You are extremely naive. How are you going to control this country?" Aulocos asked, his voice rising in a dubious anger. "Thouands of miles away, our armies are fighting in a land half our people have never heard of, fighting for the many Gods we serve. In Sanduras, Maracleus gains ever more power, and do you trust? Nobody does." Aulocos sighed, "Rithman-naar, the regicide was over, the great Tsellian conversion finished. The Nuclear fiends stopped. Hsac, the slaves are restless. How are you going to run this country? Jenrak is almost at its height, once this Jagadian war over, we can bring back tales and tributes from any taken colonies. Our people are spreading, our cultures growing."

"What does it have to do with my size?" Saerus said, his mind misunderstood.

"Because Authaulus made it this powerful. Authaulus turned the Temsplace into a massive fighting machine, not a special commando league. He gave way to the drones, he built the many fortresses that line along the coastline. What do you have to your name, Saerus? A foreign wife? That may be an accomplishment Authaulus can never achieve, but remember that there lives more than stone and bone."

"That's very poetic, my Lord. But as you forget, I was a Golden Patriarch." Saerus reasoned.

"A Golden Patriarch no more, I distinctly remember. Do not grow an ego, boy." Aulocos said harshly.

The limo stopped at the red light. In front of the place where Remy and Denise would eat.

It seemed more like a palace than anything else, large and immense, bright and cheery as lights flung up about it, a large cadre of limousines flinging about, driving through a dazzling red carpet as many people, all large and powerful or cheery and beautiful, emerged from their vehicles, their dresses glittering with expense, their eyes showing great glamour as cameras flicked around, the light from the cameras combating the spotlights around the large restaurant. The building was crafted partly out of thick gold, the rest seemingly a beautiful marriage of steel and stone.

“C’mon!” Denise said happily, as the Limousine stopped at the Red carpet, opening the door as she got out, cameras flashing everywhere, illuminating the couple. They seemed extremely excited at her and Remy’s appearance, the two of them together.

“Looks like somebody call ahead.” said Remy, getting out. With his blue sunglasses and that black long coat on, he looked like a rock star. Well…he is one. Remy did have his own band, the White Tigers. He did not know, if their CD were sold in Jenrak. He had a feeling that they were.

"Smile, and love em." Denise chuckled, posing and smiling, Remy at her side, as she laughed softly with the cameras flashing about.

“I just hope none of these people, know me.” said Remy. His mind was flood with the fans of the White Tigers trying to get him to sign photographs of him or write songs about them.

"Heh, alright." Denise said, confiding, as she walked into the restaurant with Remy, the next people coming along to have their share of fame. The two of them looked along in the large multi-tiered restaurant, a long crystal chandelier floating from the top, connected by a long wiry chain in glistening gold. It was the lavish and seemingly expensive restaurant in Jenrak, and this Denise's treat to a night out for Remy. Truly, if spending thousands of dollars on a single meal was her skewed ideal of love, then she certainly stuck to it.

Walking along, she bumped into a tall man in front of her, as she apologised profusedly, the man nodding carefully. He had periwinkle eyes, and a broad face, his teeth as white as pearls and his fingers laid with three golden rings. He had a small (but still sizable) nose, his hair in a soft mat as he stood alongside his date, a woman in a long satin gown.

"Oh my god! Marc Ratherin!" Denise gasped, shaking his hand, as he was slightly frightened.

"Lord Denise, how are you doing this night?" He said, trying to act calm and steady - he obviously knew what happened to actors who had shown disrespect to Jenrakian Lords before. He looked at her, smiling appreciatively, before turning his eyes on her date, his eyebrows turning into a skeptical look, before a look of surprise.

"Are you Remy, of the White Tigers?" He asked, his voice intent.

Remy looked around the restaurant. She knows have to show her love for me. he said to him. Then some man appears in front of them both.

“Yes, I'm the one and only Remy of the White Tigers.” said Remy. “You must be a fan?” He got ready to sign autographs or whatever this Marc wants.

"Marcus Ratherin. Love your work, and I'd love an autgraph, if its not problem." He said, pulling out a pen. "You're so great." He said, as Denise looked between them in surprise.

“Sure for a fan.” said Remy, taking the pen and writing his name on a paper he got off of a table. He hands it back to Marc. “The new CD is coming out in a couple of weeks. Hope you like it.”

"I'll look forward to it." He said, walking off, excited.

Denise was left stunned.

Remy looked at Denise. “Stunned, I see.” he said. “You’re dating the lead singer of the White Tigers. It is not just my army’s name but my band’s name, too.”

"I'm dating a superstar. I feel ecstatic." Denise said, leading him onto a tall way on the balcony, a reserved table pointed out to them.

“Well, I’m dating a badass woman. Plus, its runs in the blood of the Saint Clairs. Sal is a rapper.” said Remy with a smile. He looked at the table, “A table for two. Thanks, Denise, for all of them.”

"It's no trouble at all for my husband." Denise said vibrantly, sitting down across from Remy, the golden table with a soft silk linen, the salt and pepper shakers made of fine diamond, the forks carved from brilliant emerald, the menus in gold paper. Opening it up, she looked sniggered mischeviously.

“Nice to hear that.” said Remy, picking up his menu. “I will do anything for you, too.” He started reading…

"I love it when I hear that." Denise said, looking about, wondering on what she would take. "I feel like having a steak, though it would mess my make-up. Well, money is no object, so what are you having?" She said, putting her menu down.

“Ribs sound good.” said Remy. “Yes, I have me some grill Ribs with spicy sauce on it.”

"Heh. Okay, so we're at both ends." Denise said, her fingers flickering, as a waiter picked up their sheets. Leaning forwards, Denise looked at him seductively.

Remy leaned forwards and looked into her eyes. “So…” he said. “Who was that Marc person? I was going to write my name on his forehead. I have done that couple of times."

"He probably would have liked it too. I've less devotion from Temsplace fanatics. He's the biggest A-list actor on this side of the continent." Denise said.

“Oh…an actor.” said Remy. “Actors act like assholes a lot of times and sometime act like little girls, if they don’t get what they want.”

"I used to have a big crush on him when I was younger." Denise said, smiling, before realising what she said. "But I think yu're more attractive." She said in a matter-of-factly tone, as if not to hurt his feelings.

“Oh…you’re so sweet.” said Remy, in a playful tone. But he was about to change the subject. “Denise, anything you want? A car? Or anything?”

"You're going to spoil me, Remy. I'm okay, as long as you're with me." She said, smiling.

“If you got the money, I say use it.” said Remy. “Come on, I want to buy you something.”

"No, I'm okay. I blew all of my money on my mustang." She said with a snicker.

“Oh…” said Remy. “Well…” He did not know what to say or talk about. “Don’t know what to talk about.”

"Like your honesty." She said, sitting up straight, her face broken into a wide smile, as she snickered, waiting for her food. "So how do you like Jenrak now?" She asked.

“Fun.” said Remy. “I like how I can drive through the desert and no see another person for miles. Plus, those sand dunes make good ramps for dirt bikes.”

"It's very nice on desert warfare." She said, before frowning. "I'm sorry, I won't talk about war or violence, or things like that..." She began to blather on.

“That is okay.” said Remy. “I fought in wars, so I know what happens during it. So…where is your favorite place in all of Jenrak? ” Where ever she said, Remy would check it out on his own.

Denise's answer was fairly obvious. "My house." She said, without a blinking worry.

“Well, that will work.” said Remy. “How many acres does your house sit on? You know how much land do you own?”

"A few acres." Denise said, wondering. "I think so, yeah."

“Well, who owns the land around yours?” asked Remy. If Denise was smart, she would get what he was trying to do.

"My uncle, why?" Denise said, oblivious to what Remy was trying to point at.

“Oh…if your uncle did not own the land, I would have bought it for you.” said Remy. “I don’t think your uncle would sell it to me.”

"I'm happier not owning the land. My uncle never uses it, so if I owned it, I would have to pay for it. So I use it, but my uncle pays for it. It's a mutual agreement." She said, nodding.

"Okay, sounds like good deal." said Remy. "What do you use it for?"

"Nothing, actually. I never found a use for it." She said, cackling slightly.

“Oh…” said Remy. “You think my Grandfather is a little nuts? Be honesty, please?”

"I've barely met your grandfather, Remy." She said honestly.

“You saw what he did in the hanger with those palace guards.” said Remy. “That was a mess. That blood just made me and the other join in on the fun. Sorry, if that made you sick.”

"I've seen worse at the hands of my fellow Vizith. Rashkta Nirandu is Queen of her title, and she truly deserves the masochistic reputation of the Sadicistra leader."

“Oh…the Sadicistra look like little children to Grandfather then.” said Remy. “In Ancient time, he and his men lit a whole village on fire. And the only reason he had was, he was bored.”

"That's masochism, an ideal all for its own. Besides, I've seen worse." Denise said.

“Yes, I know.” said Remy. “But when you watch 10,000 people be burned alive. You’re a nut. He has not done that in a long time.”

"Well, then I'm sure you weren't at the Rith correction. Authaulus cleaned out Rithman-naar of all Christian life." Denise said, sighing, before the waiters came, carrying their food, a plump and voluptuous steak on Denise's plate, three delectable parts of ribs on Remy's plate.

"Oh, well." She said, eating.

“Nope, I was not there.” said Remy, looking at his ribs. “But don’t tell Authaulus that he is nut, too. It is better to turn people into slaves then waste their lives.” He started eating.

"That's the mind of Drakthaz, the economist of Jenrak. He abhors the execution of people, thining they would rather be enslaved, but Authaulus sticks with religion." Denise said, her mouth full of meat.

“Oh…” said Remy, eating on a rib.

"Mmm hmm." Denise nodded, pushing her hair back, wiping her mouth. "How's your food?"

Remy wiped his mouth of rib sauce and said “Nice. Really nice.” Then he started eating again.

"Good to know." She said, looking at him still.

Remy licked his lips and “You want a bite?” he asked.

"Sure." She smiled.

Remy hands a rib over to her.

Holding between her fingers, she slowly laced her teeth around its edges, trying to slowly work the meat off the bone. Nodding slowly, she hummed. "Very nice." She said, finishing the rib, before going back to her steak. She sliced off a piece from her steak, and stabbing it with her fork, she lifted it slowly up to Remy, a cute expression on her face.

Remy watched Denise as she eat the rib. He was only centered on her mouth. He took the piece of steak and said “Thanks.”

"No problem." She said, smiling, resuming her short-lived feast.

“So…do you have anything plan for tonight?” asked Remy with a smile.

"Why, what do you have in mind?" She asked, a playful look adorned upon her.

“I don’t know.” said Remy, flashing his playful smile again. “We role-play some more.”

"Mmm, I'm a little tired to be role-playing." She said, finishing her steak, as she ordered a wine.

Remy looked like sad puppy dog. “Okay then.” He finished his ribs and the steak.

"You want something to drink?" Denise asked, finishing her first cup already, ordering another.

“I take a couple glasses of red wine.” said Remy.

"Glasses of Red Wine." She snapped, as the waiters nodded, Denise finishing her second glass, as she waited for another one. "So how's it feel in your place?" She asked.

“My place?” asked Remy, playing with a fork. He spun it between his fingers.

"Mmm. You're probably not going to like my side of the family." She said, drinking up another glass as Remy's came along, perched down on the table.

“What are you talking about?” asked Remy, taking a glass of wine.

"Never mind." She said, taking another glass of wine, gulping it down quickly.

“Okay.” said Remy What the hell is she talking about? He took a drink of the red wine.

"Mmm." Denise said, finishing another three glasses, as seven empty glasses sat around the table, but she showed no signs of any drunkenness. "So, what do you do other than be a superstar and own alot of clubs?" She asked.

“Well, I am a theft.” said Remy, downing his glasses and pick up another one. “Most of the time, I sit around playing cards with my soldiers or band mates.”

"Ah." Denise said, blinking softly, as it was finally drowning in, fourteen glasses later. "Another one." She said, thought still sharp.

“I do party like the rockstar I am.” said Remy. He took a full bottle of red wine from waitress and started drinking.

"And what am, a groupie?" She asked, chuckling to herself. Seventeen glasses.

“Nope, you are the future wife of a rockstar.” said Remy, throwing the empty bottle in the air. Where ever it went, he did not care. He took another bottle.

Malackros, the New Home Castle
Saerus stood around, looking at the project, the tips almost done, the turrets nearly complete, as thick walls and immense, long gardens drifted around, defenses and anti-aircraft units flinging up with a strong wavering sense, the Temspace standing around him, protecting him from any kind of harm. Even a fly, a small, tiny, insignificant fly, nearly landed on Saerus' tanned shoulder, but immediately it was sliced in midair, skillfully by a small razor by one of the guards. All thick in golden stripes and laid with a long trench of flags on their backs, their faces adorned behind a stone mask, the Guards looked on, their stare immune to the natural boundings around them. This was holy ground - only the king could have had his blood touch such ground, nobody else but the holy ones.

"Sounds cool." Denise said, taking another cup, her tongue slurring a bit. Her eyes blinked softly a few seconds, but then readjusted to being smooth and opened. "I'll take another drink." She whispered to herself.

“Nope, you don’t need no more.” said Remy, hearing her whisper for another drink. “Let pay and get the hell out of here.”

From behind Saerus walked Selene. “So, this is going to be what?” she asked.

Immediately, in a flash, the large wall of Temsplaces blocked her view of her husband, large stone cleaver-like swords and giant ruby shields connected together to form a mobile, tight, and thick wall of mind and strength. With a snap of fingers on the other end, they closed down their shields, moved out of the way, standing in perfect position, their feet perched perfectly at every angle, their bodies moved exactly at the same time in the same positions. Forming a small (but outside) stone bridge to Saerus, the Temsplace bowed lowly to commemorate his wife's appearance. Turning around, Saerus nodded appreciatively, snapping his fingers again as the Temsplace went back to their normal position, still like mountains.

"Our new home. It will be finished tommorrow." Saerus said, looking at the large castle, a man-made mountain.

"No, no." Denise said, taking another drink, gulping it down quickly, before she began to rub her forehead softly. "Where'd you go?" She said, slurring slightly, but still keeping her staunch stance.

“That is good.” said Selene, moving to be closer to her husband. “What is it going to be called?”

“Right here.” said Remy. He walked over to her and kissed her. “Lets pay before you can walk out of here.”

"Malackros Auikcun. The Fortress of the Pale Moon." Saerus said.

"Let's go." She said, getting up, before trying to walk out, but she was obviously unable to walk.

“Sounds like a good name.” said Selene. “It will be the safest place in Jenrak, right?” That was dumb question to ask. But she asks it anyways.

“Wow!” said Remy, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re drunk.” He picked her in his arms and started towards the desk, to pay for dinner.

"I'm intending it to be the safest place in the Ascheran continent." Saerus said, looking up. "Why do you ask?"

“The safety of our children.” said Selene.

Remy paid with his own money and carried out to the limo. It started back to her manor.

"Ah, very well." Saerus confided.

She looked back at his bodyguards then back at Saerus. “Love your bodyguards. They don’t move that much, do they?” she asked.

"They are intended to act only when I am in danger." Saerus said. "They are best of the Temsplace."

“Oh…well, I feel safe around you then.” said Selene. He heard two low hearts beating coming from behind her and Saerus. “The children are coming.” She looked back to see young Saerus wearing a set of armor that match his father and Cassandra in a blue dress with a bow on her back.

"I see." Saerus said, nodding.

“Father!” said young Saerus. “Look at what we killed.” He pointed behind him, servants were towing carts. On these carts were Jenrakian wild cats, a total of four. “Me and sister did it by ourselves.” Young Saerus holds up a sword that looks like his father’s sword with blood on the blade. Cassandra held up her bow.

"Odd. Where did you find wild cats in Haasdra?" Saerus asked, wondering.

“We didn’t hunt them here.” said Cassandra, putting her bow on her back. “We used copters to get to the hunting ground.”

“Sister shot one in the head at hundred yards away.” said young Saerus. “Right between the eyes.”

"Very interesting." Saerus said, a tone of wonder in his mind. A hundred yards? At her age? Hmm. He continued to ponder.

The children got near him and Selene. “I want a necklace made from the male, Father. As a trophy, to show of what I did.” said young Saerus. “I killed it by myself and owning using my sword.”

“And I want a cape like Alexander the Great cape, with the head of wild cat and all of the fur.” he said. “Can that be done, Father?”

"I will give them to the Sadicistra." Saerus said, snapping his fingers, as servants, low and thick with boundary, scuttled like mice to carry the animals off. "They will be able to do something of the like." Saerus promised.

“Cool.” said young Saerus, he watched a bird fly above. His sister was watching the bird, too. But she had the bow out and arrow ready. She watched the bird as it flew around. It grew closer to the ground and them. Timing it right, she pulled the arrow back and sent it flying in the air. The bird was around 75 yards away from the family.

The arrow hit the bird in the chest, making it fall to the ground.

"Interesting." Saerus said, turning around, heading back to Necromarnen. "I'm late for my last appointment." Saerus said, his hand on his sword.

“Okay.” said Selene and the children at the same time. They looked back at their new home before heading to Necromarnen.

"You're coming with me?" Saerus asked them, looking, chuckling.

“Looks that way.” said Selene with a smile. “We will find something to do.”

"Alright." Saerus said, taking his Lancer cycle towards Necromarnen.

Selene and the children hopped into her car (http://www.qtm.net/~gls/rod60.jpg). She fired it up and took off behind Saerus.

Finally, they reached Necromarnen, Saerus walking up the myriad stairs and the large platforms, reaching to the top of the throne room, where Authaulus stood, waiting.

As they arrived, a black eighteen wheeler, a black pick up truck and two black SUV pulled up to the gate. A black M1 Abrams sat on the trailer of the truck. A large crate sat in the back of the pick up. Selene followed Saerus to the garage. She told the servants to watch only the children, make sure they don’t do anything a crazy. Then she heads into the throne room and watches.

The driver of the front SUV rolled down the window and said “We’re here to drop off a tank and a crate of AK-47s for Saerus.”

"Khaazra!" The Vizi-Terrux yelled loudly, the large adamantium gates forced apart, the turrets still watching, the Sadicistra like always, licking their lips and lashing their tongue in the distance at the portrayed flesh they could see.

"Saerus, last lesson. You have mastered Tzuru-Tzar?" Authaulus asked, looking at Saerus, wondering. "Of course not. I have not taught you all of it." He pulled out his long stone sword, held it firmly against his shoulder, as if it were as light as a dagger, but it was as massive as four of the Temsplace Lord on ends. From its size and demeanor, it could cleave a two story building in a single stroke, clean and efficient.

Saerus drew his sword, a long, almost ethereal diamond blade, hewn from a beauitful glass frame with jeweled supports, almost unbreakable, the blade priceless and wrapped in a red scarf-like shaw. Wrapping the shaw around his hand, he placed it on his backhand, eyeing Authaulus carefully. It was a quiet moment, only the wind blowing on the battered walls, the tower high and ominous, the stairs to Zarazego wide.

In a flash of lightning, with quick-footed speed, Saerus and Authaulus began their last spar.

The small convey drove through the gate, the Dominionites watched the Sadicistra. They were not afraid off them for two reasons. One is that a HE round to the heat will drop anybody. And two, they were the Count’s people. The convoy spot in front of the castle. They waited for somebody to meet them.

Rashkta stood at the foot of the castle, a trickle of blood dripping slowly from her mouth, something inside as she had just finished chewing. Her long white hair was straight upon her face, as she flung it back to see, her piercing eyes looking at the convoy. "Whom is this for?" She asked at the truck.

"Life is neccessity. Life is important." Authaulus tutored, looking at the bloodied Saerus, the King with a massive gash in his left arm, a long cut from his right side of his neck down into his armour. Blood was everywhere in room, and it was only his blood. Authaulus looked the same as ever.

It was a swift fight, for Authaulus swung around in a circle in midair, striking Saerus from the neck, slashing him on his left arm to prevent a strengthened backhanded defense. "You fight too recklessly." Authaulus lectured, his sword deep in the ground. A series of wires were connected to Authaulus' sword, and it seemed an odd sight, but Saerus ignored it.

He had too much pride, he was not intent on losing in front of his wife or his children. Getting up, despite the enormous torrents of blood spilling out, he placed his black helmet back on, shaking heavily, as if it were a frosty winter morning. His left arm stretched to hold his sword up, supporting the weight on his right arm, he leaned forwards slightly, lunging forwards with a swift speed.

Authaulus stood there, before lifting his index finger, lunging the sword into a perfect position that had it catch Saerus' sword in the centre of the blade, ripping it from his hand as even the black gauntlet came off, the muscles on the King's hand throbbing, for they were devoid of a protective layer of skin.

Grabbing Saerus' sword, Authaulus looked on at his younger brother coldly, but it could not be seen behind the thick, massive armour the Temsplace wore. Throwing back his brother's sword, Authaulus stuck his blade back into the ground, the palm of his hand held out on top of his massive weapons' hilt.

“The tank is for you, if you are Lady Rashkta.” said a man. He was wearing brown bomber jacket, black pants and combat boots. This man had a full head of gray hair and a full bread. This man had a Russian accent in his voice. He had a clip board in his hand.

Rashkta had a serious tone in her voice. "Elaborate." She demanded.

"SKill is nothing to perserverence." Authaulus said once more, as Saerus lunged strongly, but Authaulus merely placed his gauntlet at the end of the blade, turning his elbow to smash Saerus in the face. "Willpower is omnipotent." He said again, waiting for Saerus to get up.

Truly Saerus was bruised and bloody, his left side of his face with a massive bruise, his right side showing the scars of the ground. Part of his skin was peeled, and his left arm was horribly destroyed, his right arm barely able to have a grasp on the sword, as he tried to grip it harder, but the pain was too extreme.

Getting back into his usual stance, Authaulus nodded, raising it high, spun into the ground, allowing Saerus a chance to strike his brother's back, but a series of metal spikes lunged up and defended the Temsplace's back, as Saerus dodged quickly, looking at him in wonder.

"You underestimate the defenses we have." Authaulus said, turning around. Holding his hand out, Authaulus nodded. "You passed." Saerus was confused, for he had dearly lost, and not even was able to land a single blow anywhere close to his older brother.

Walking off, Authaulus nodded to Selene on his way out. "Get him a medical team." He said, without looking back.

“That tank is the one you bought off of the Count for 2.5 million.” said the man. He walked up to show her the order form, an order from for the tank. “See.” he showed her the top paper.

Selene called in a medical team. Then she ran over to her husband.

"Bring it to Azhujuzh, in Liarcha." Rashkta said, without further instructions.

"Who is it?" Saerus tried to say, the blood from his mouth gurgling his words.

“Tell me where Liarcha is and we will take it there.” said the man. “Oh…take this.” He hands a paper with one of the bank account’s of the Count’s. “Wire the money there.”

One of his men asked “Sir, the AKs for the King”

“Oh…yeah, can we drop the crate off with you?” asked the man.

“Me, silly.” said Selene. At that time, the medical team came and started working on the King.

"Alright." Rashkta said, taking the paper. "I'll send it now." With that, she walked off.

The man waited for somebody to sign for Saerus’ AK-47s. The other men unloaded the crate with two ammo boxes. 2,000 HE rounds in each box. Those rounds were free to Saerus.

Authaulus, most likely steaming in his thick armour, still kept it on, but he trudged up, a seven foot tall behemoth, his stature immense, his large sword tied safely to his back. a small robe of blades on his waist. Holding his large gauntlet, he looked with cold eyes behind his helmet. "I can sign that." He replied to the man.

“Sure thing.” said man, hands the paper over to the warrior. His men moved the crate and ammo boxes over beside the man. “Princess Selene said she paid for it. As a gift for her husband.”

"I'll let her know it's been taken care of." Authaulus said, reading and scanning the paper carefully, looking for any possible loopholes or any hidden costs before slashing the bottom of the paper skilfully, his signature like a whirred blur of ink on the sheet. "Here." He said, handing it back.

“Thank you, sir.” said the man. He looked back at his men as they loaded back into their vehicles. “Well, got to deliver the tank to Azhujuzh, in Liarcha.” With that, the man back to pick up truck. The convey head out the castle and through the gate. Heading towards Liarcha.

As Saerus was in the hospital once more, his body wracked with damage, Aulocos entered, sitting on a wheelchair supported a man drenched in a black, rubbery-like skin, a metal mouthguard on his lips, supported by wires indented on his cheek. "Leave us." Aulocos said, as the black-armoured Sadicistra nodded, walking out. Looking at Selene behind his metal mask, Aulocos nodded.

"I need to show you something." Aulocos told Selene, getting out of his wheelchair.

She watched the black-armored Sadicistra as it entered. She never like them, they were worse then vampires. Vampire only took enough blood to live, those animals eat everything. “Okay.” said Selene, looking at Aulocos.

"I need you to come with me." Aulocos said, leading her out to the Hangar, pointing to a small flaring disc in the sky. It shined like the sun, but it was certainly not, for the sun had not yet dipped past the horizon, dawn had not befallen yet.

Selene followed him to the hanger. “What is it?” she asked.

"Adelena." Aulocos said with a tone of worry in his voice. For the first time in his life, Aulocos was worried.

“What is she doing?” asked Selene. “Do you know?”

"If I knew, I wouldn't be worried." Aulocos said, turning around, his long robes flocking away.

“So, what do we do?” asked Selene.

"We kill her. Simple as that." He said calmly. "The difficult thing is how to get to her that quickly. Yet it wouldn't matter. I've heard from Ashili that the wedding preparations are almost complete. The Krakkez Church is going to be our new place. It's a fairly respectable location, amidst the only oasis in Jenrak."

“Oh…” said Selene, still looking at Adelena from afar. “She is Goddess, right? Meaning she will be hard to kill. We need to keep an eye on her and waited to Remy’s father and other family members get here.”

"She is a Vizith-Skruyhiam. She will be impossible to kill. She cannot be killed. Therefore, my speech of her death is merely metaphorical. We simple do what is prudent. Re-summon her son, Ciranaar." Aulocos said with a matter-of-factly tone in his voice.

“That can be done and has been done before.” said Selene.

"Exactly. The book is with me, so I will take care of this. You enjoy your weddings." Aulocos replied coolly.

“Okay.” said Selene. “Well, keep yourself alive. I‘m going back to Saerus. Bye.” With that, she head back toward Saerus’ room.

"I've been dead for a while. No point in keeping myself alive." Aulocos said, but it was nothing but an inaudible whisper through his mind.

Selene arrived back in Saerus’ room and walked over to his bed. She told a sit and held on his left hand with both hands.

Saerus could feel the soft, but cold hands, sighing softly. "I'm sorry for being gone so long." Saerus said, his voice coarse.

“It is all right.” said Selene is calm and caring voice. “I’m happy you at back with me.”

"No, no. It is my fault. I am too steadfast. Too headstrong." He complained, barely moving, his eyes barely opened - just a slit of flesh.

“Don’t blame yourself.” said Selene. “You were just doing what you thought was the best for your country.”

"By fighting an enemy that couldn't be seen? No. No excuse. I will make it up for you. Give me one wish, and I will see if I can grant that wish." Saerus chortled.

“That you never leave me and we stay together forever.” said Selene. She said that without even thinking about it.

"Alright." Saerus chuckled. "Are you sure?"

“You are my life, Saerus.” she said. “I will do anything to keep you alive for me and our children. I don’t want those two wonderful children to grow up without a father. I would turn you, if you want it.”

"Turn?" Saerus asked, not comprehending what it meant.

“Turn as in become a vamp.” said Selene.

"Like Ashili, you are suggesting." Saerus added.

“Ashili is not a normal vampire. She is like my father. Me and my brother are normal vampires.” said Selene. “You become a vamp like me.”

"What would happen? Would I turn pale? Become bone dry without blood? Or have I been watching too many movies?" Saerus said, almost with a joking essence in his voice.

“Am I pale?” asked Selene. “Some books and movies are the truth. But others are jokes. The sunlight is the biggest problem.”

"I would really like to see what my descendants do, and avoiding sunlight is much less painful than burning an eternity in hell. Alright." Saerus sighed. "How i this done, do I have to do a ritual of some sort...?"

“Well…every time I go out in the sunlight, I wear a cloak or something with a hood on it.” said Selene about the sunlight problem. “One bite and the vampire virus will be given to you. It will get into your blood and change it.”

"Is this virus possible to be turned into a synthetic formula?" Saerus asked.

“Don’t know, we have never try to do that.” said Selene. “You don’t want to be bite, do you?”

"I'm not fond of getting my neck bitten." Saerus admitted. "But then again, if Ashili can handle it, then so can I." He sighed, nodding, thinking it over.

“I can always hide the bite marks.” said Selene. “The Countesses don’t have bit marks on their necks. Father hide the bites down here.” She moved his hand to her inner leg. “I can do that for you, if you want?”

"Alright." Saerus confided sitting up.

“It will hurt for a little bit like a gun shot.” said Selene, she tied her hair in a ponytial and walked over to the door. She locked it and looked back over her shoulder. “Don’t want any unwanted guest to come in.” With that, she head over to the bed and pulls the cover back. With Saerus’ leg open for the bite, she leans down and kiss it before asking “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." Saerus said, though it was obvious he clearly wasn't.

Selene could tell he was not the sure in his voice. But this is the best for him and their children. If he is turned, he will be Selene’s wish. With that a warning, her fangs grew from hidden to long pointy things. She bite him, the virus began to flow into Saerus’ leg. Into his blood.

"How long?" Saerus asked, after bitten, looking around aimlessly.

Selene pulled off after thirty seconds, enough time for a lot of the virus to get in. Her fangs went back to normal. She sat up and got the blood off her mouth. “24 hours to be fully changed.“ she said. “The first six hours are going to be a little freaky from what I was told. It will be like you are on drugs, a shit load of drugs.”

“You will have to stay in here during those six hours. I will be with you the whole time.” she said.

"Okay. I think - " Before he began to convulse heavily, his veins throbbing up violently, his knuckles pearl white and his eyes extremely bloodshot, a screeching sound from the pit of his stomach, a gruesome, skull-faced lump of flesh began to lunge out of his skin on his left shoulder, with black eyes and creeping fangs, no nose to be seen, as Saerus screamed alongside its horrid yelps. "Is this supposed to happen?" He asked painfully, not fighting it off as it lunged again, Saerus' skin ripping apart.

Selen was shocked a what was happening. Was it her fault? was all she was asking to herself. “No…no…no…this not supposed to happen.” she said out loud. She started thinking and it head her. “Jack of Spades does not like the change. Fuck!” she said. She punched the skull right in the head. She knew it was going to hurt Saerus and maybe the Jack, too. “Stay in there.”

"Augh, please don't!" He said, blood vomiting out of his mouth, before the door was rushed with a heavy stone slab, as it was ripped apart, showing Viraranaar holding Authaulus' massive stone shield, before it dropping it as it loudly flung to the ground. "Move out of the way." He said to Selene, a pulsing green stone in his hand.

Selene jumped out the way and hide in the corner. “Sorry, Saerus. I’m sorry I did this to you.” She said over and over.

"If you're so overwracked with guilt, you could help me hold him down." Viraranaar said coarsely, as his right pinky finger was immediately torn from his hand when Saerus, in his crazed manner, was placed to lunge at the priest. "Annirak, get your senses together!" He yelled.

"Euthria Idiim!" Saerus yelled, almost rabid.

Plunging the emerald stone into Saerus' left hand, it began to shake and quake, the tattoos on his body getting peeled off. "Hold him!" Viraranaar told Selene.

Selene snap back and ran over to the bed. With both arms on her husband’s chest, she held him down.

Viraranaar mumbled inaudible words, as the emerald began to give a golden glow, despite its emerald hue. Finally, after a few seconds of attacks, Saerus slowed down, but his eyes closed, his mind wracked with fatigue. "If you want him in one piece, it would be prudent to not bother his sleep." Viraranaar said, walking out with he shining green emerald in his hand, stained at the end with the blood from Saerus' hand.

“Okay.” said Selene, she looked at Vira then back at Saerus. She saw what her husband did to Vira before she could help him. “Get those cuts looked at.” With that, she sat down and waited by her husband’s side like she said she would.

--------------

Edward walked through the hallways looking for Rashkta. His son, Farkas, wants to be a Temsplace later in the Jenrakian Army. Farkas looks up to the Templaces, they are holy warriors. Something that Farkas made think he would become a good Templace. He learn from his mother that he needs a sponsor before he can become one. So, Edward is trying to get the sponsor for his son.

“Rashkta!” called out Edward. “I need to talk to you.”

"I am going to ask why, and I expect a probable answer." Rashkta turned around to face Edward, her face drenched in blood, staining her silver hair, her beautiful glamour covered in a coat of blood. "Because I need to wash my face first." She replied, picking off a small slit of flesh from between her teeth.

“I come to you on behalf of my son, Farkas.” said Edward. “He wants to become a Temsplace. Wash your face, if you want.”

"I'll be back momentarily." Rashkta said, walking off without looking back.

Edward waited in the hallway. He not know what she would say to him. If he would get a yes or no.

Back, Rashkta had finished, her face clean and her powerful stare shining. "your son doesn't want to come ask himself?" She asked incredulously.

“Well…he has things to do at the castle. His martial arts training is one of those things.” said Edward. “So, he had me to ask you.”

"What church is he interested in?" Rashkta asked Edward.

“Aslydon.” said Edward.

"Jurhinga temsplaces. He'll need a sponsor." Rashkta told Edward.

“That is why I am here.” said Edward. “I was told you could be his sponsor. Can you?”

"I don't hand out sponsors to people easily. He has to prove that he is trustworthy and knowledgable." Rashkta said.

“So…” said Edward looking at his watch. “This was a waste. My son knows everything about a Jurhinga temsplaces. He had been studying them for two years.”

He looked at her in the eyes. “He is trustworthy.” he said.

"I need proof." Rashkta said, without taking her eyes from the stare, looking at Edward back, with equal tenacity. "You bring your son here, I will question him. I will test him. Then I will see if he is loyal to the Tsellian beliefs."

Edward looked back at his watch. “His training will be over in half an hour. You still going to be here?” he asked. “Or you can come with me to the castle?

"I'm staying here. I have alot of work to do, so you had hurry up in bringing him here." Rashkta replied.

“Well, see you later.” said Edward. With that, he turned and heads towards the hanger.

45 minutes later…

Edward is back with Farkas, who is wearing his tiger-skinned robe. He was a student of the Bounding Tiger Academy of the Dominion. “The boy is here.” said Edward as he walked where Rashkta was at last.

"Iruduish skrayhuim?" Rashkta asked Farkas, whom thought carefully.

"Enciask...Kerenuk?" Farkas asked back, wondering if it was right. Rashkta nodded.

"Taika rescrun kerenuk?" She asked.

"Kunzurisk Zarazethos." He said, uncertain.

"Your mother's Ascheran is horrible." Rashkta said to Farkas, turning her gaze to Edward. "Tell Ashili she should never speak in Ascheran. The filthy dialect she is teaching this boy won't help him." She snapped her fingers expectantly.

"Come with me, boy." She said harshly.

“I will tell her that. She will be mad.” said Edward. Farkas followed Rashkta without saying anything.

"Have you ever killed a child? Have you ever killed a man?" Rashkta asked him on the way, her goddess-like features expressionless, her long silver hair straight and shining, her smooth skin and lithe repertoire beneath the white, thin uniform she donned.

Farkas looked up at Rashkta, she was beautiful and he knew it. “I have killed before a vampire hunter. I think he was eighteen.” said the boy. “That was a year ago.”

"Oh good. You have blood on your hands. A good sign of a real man." Rashkta said, still walking along. "How is your time in your mother's land?"

“Fine. It is my home and I will guard it with my life, if I need to.” said Farkas, his tone of something a nine-year old should not sound like. “Same thing for Jenrak, it is my home.”

"A young mind, early molded to be a good mind." Rashkta said, still her face serious. "I will have you meet the Asyldon Vizith Priest. You do understand what Vizith means, correct?"

“Yes, Lady Rashkta.” said Farkas. “It means greatest or super.”

"Good. You have mind." She said, opening the large stone doors, a council of priests, all long and old, withering and ancient, dressed in bright clothes and carrying a small diamond dagger on their arms.

"Where is Lord of Asyldon?" She asked them all, a stark man like the others rising. Pointing to Farkas, she said harshly without looking at him. "This boy wants to become a Holy Warrior."

Farkas dropped to a knee and bowed to these men. A council of priests, he knew these men were. His grandfather has a council like this but with only four men. “I, Farkas Darkholme, wants to become a Holy Warrior.” he said, looking up.

"Then Kill Rashkta." The Asyldon priest ordered. Rashkta showed no change of emotion.

Farkas did not smile but attacked with two small daggers, hidden in his martial arts robe. He didn’t think as he attacked. It was like his natural.

Her hatchet lashed out, she skilfully balanced it on one end of one of the blades, pushing it back as the hatchet smashed into the other end, allowing her a strong defence. "Good." She said, as the priest pulled Farkas back.

His hand outstretched, he nodded. "Consider yourself a Tsellian defender." The Asyldon priest replied.

Farkas looked at Rashkta and then back at the priests. “Thank you.” said Farkas. “Does my training start now or in six year when I can join the army?”

"Immediately. You yourself are too old, so we must being your training now." The Priests replied.

“I understand.” said Farkas. He waited for them to tell him more. His daggers were in their place.

"Very simple. You must go to the church in Aslydon, Scion. From there, talk to the head Temsplace." The Priest said. "I will notify him of your arrival. You must go immediately."

“Thank you.” said Farkas again. He bowed to the priests before turning to leave.

"That boy has potential. Does he know who will be his trainer?" Rashkta said.

"It is likely the man will want to vouch for him." The Priest replied.

"Surely this boy has his mind cut out for him." Rashkta replied, before walking out the other hallway.

After finding his father in the hallway waiting for him, “Are you in?” asked Edward.

“Yes, Father.” said Farkas. “They told me to head to the church in Aslydon, Scion.”

“Okay, well lets go then.” said Edward. Him and the boy head towards the hanger. After a little bit, they were in the air. Heading toward Aslydon, Scion.

Asyldon was a large haven, a massive formation stuck within the rock, a giant church almost as big as the castle of Necromarnen, one of the many wonders strewn across Jenrak's barren landscape, like a twisting, winding series of towers. Scholarly men and priests chattered outside on its sand-blasted terrain, discussing many a things, before heading back in, but on the rail, sat a black armoured Temsplace, a giant axe wrapped on his back, as he loomed over everybody else, a series of guns on his waist and a shoulder mounted rocket launcher tied to his back.

He looked around coldly, with a precise stare behind his mask, and he was only a bit smaller than Authaulus, though this man showed no sign of weakness.

After a half an hour, Edward’s helicopter arrived in the sky over Asyldon. The church was easy to see. Edward flew toward the church and lands in clear flat piece of land next to it. He powered everything down before getting out. With his hood on, him and Farkas walked towards the church.

Greeting them, the Black Armoured Temsplace bowed his head lowly as a sign of respect for the visitors. "I am Sly'lioth, and I welcome you visitors to the church of Asyldon. Whom are you?" He asked.

Both Edward and Farkas bowed their head back at the Temsplace. “I am Farkas Darkholme.” said Farkas. “This is my father, Edward.”

"Ah, Lord Asidlyius told me of your arrival. You are found to be available for Temsplace training. If it is alrgith with your father, then it shall begin immediately. Normally we do not accept children your age under any circumstances, but Lady Ashili has made very strong points on this exception."

“Sure, start his training.” said Edward, looking at his son. “He is good boy.”

Farkas stepped forwards and looked up at Sly'lioth. “I’m ready to begin.” he said.

"Your training will go for six years. In those six years, you are not a meter's end from death. If you die, then so be it. You will be training with others, whom are slightly younger than you, but still they are going quite swimmingly. Now let's go." Sly'lioth said, walking into the large cathedral of Aslydon.

“I understand, Lord Sly'lioth.” said Farkas. He followed next to him but stay few steps behind him. He thought about what would happen into those six years. Would he see his family during those six year? Farkas is a family person, so that would mess him up. His trainer would be surprised with Farkas, he was a quick leaner and maybe become his best student.

Edward watched the pair as they heads towards the church. He stood there like a proud father.

"Welcome to Asyldoniask." Sly'lioth said, showing battlement upon battlement, massive Temsplace armies marching around in perfect unison, scholarly men speaking and discussing mathematics, astronomy and politics. It was a cultured place, as Sly'lioth led Farkas down to the massive sparring chamber. It was empty, but was enough for Sly'lioth to question Farkas.

"Now, there are four Temsplaces denominations you may choose. The Ignoshirask, the Pulpit Master, the Khavuun Nahk Khazarhk, the War Child. The Vizi-Kuurun, the Holy Lord, or Maigukin, the King's Thorn."

Farkas looked at the Temsplace armies march around. He would be one of those soldiers one day. Maybe a commander of the Temsplace army, a Lord like Lord Sly'lioth. He followed with his trainer, never get to far behind him. Always staying a few steps behind. When his trainer asked him a question, he looked up at him. “The Vizi-Kuurun, Lord. I want to become a Holy Lord.” he said.

Farkas looked at the Temsplace armies march around. He would be one of those soldiers one day. Maybe a commander of the Temsplace army, a Lord like Lord Sly'lioth. He followed with his trainer, never get to far behind him. Always staying a few steps behind. When his trainer asked him a question, he looked up at him. “The Vizi-Kuurun, Lord. I want to become a Holy Lord.” he said.

"Very well." Sly'lioth said, no hesitation in his voice. "Normally I would not care if you died in this course, but your mother is being extremely difficult to work with, so I will tell you this now - you may most likely die if you do not know what you are doing, and I am familiar with your family's...oddities."

Farkas smiled, he knew is was not going to be easy. “I’m really to do anything to become of Hold Lord of the Temsplace, my lord.” said Farkas. “My mutant powers will show up before my fourteenth birthday or after. It is unknown, if I’m going to have more then one power or many powers like my Grandfather.”

"Indeed. You will be paired with a girl, Rowinia. She is very smart, and knows alot about the things coming ahead. If I get complains about you fighting, you are ejected from the academy, understood?" Sly'lioth said harshly.

“I understand, my lord.” said Farkas. “I will only do as I am told to do.”

"Oh good." Sly'lioth admitted.

“Can I meet this Rowinia, my lord?” asked Farkas. He wants to meet her before they start training together.

"No, she is busy. Her father is being quite a nuisance, and it is becoming unbearable." Sly'lioth said. "You may scour about the library if you wish."

Farkas was thinking about it, he wants to meet her. “I will go to the library then, my lord.” said Farkas, he started off but stopped and turned back at his trainer. “Which way it is, my lord?”

"Down the hall. It's the large door that says Ahruhkirius at the top of the door. The bronze handles will give it away quite nicely." Sly'lioth replied, without a glance back, walking off int othe chasmic tunnels of the church.

“Thanks.” said Farkas, he heads down the hallway. He runs into the door and opens it. Walking he looks around…

The library was a large sanctum of stone pillars around an elongated brass staircase, a draped red carpet dangling around the steps, bookshelves upon bookshelves listed full of fresh and clean novels, massive books like stone blocks and tiny ones barely larger than your hand. The rays of the sun were shining through in glistening starkness, sparkling and glittering with golden spots of purity. Scholarly men and large priestly figures roamed about, smaller children walking along, asking questions and reading the texts on the large stone table,s the chairs sleek and strong.